My phone lit up constantly after that.
I SHARED A SHOT OF A SMALL PATCH OF GREEN PUSHING THROUGH A CRACK BENEATH THE SINK.
People were starting to take notice.
Questions from friends, coworkers, and people I hadn’t spoken to in years filled the comment sections.
“Are you okay?”
“Is this temporary?”
“Why are you there?”
“You don’t deserve this.”
PEOPLE WERE STARTING TO TAKE NOTICE.
I started to type out answers, but what would I say? That my husband chose his mother’s comfort over my dignity?
It stung too much to put down in words.
I still hadn’t heard a peep from Jake or Lorraine.
That soon changed.
I STARTED TO TYPE OUT ANSWERS, BUT WHAT WOULD I SAY?
Jake sent me a text late that night.
You really didn’t have to post all that. It’s just one week.
I stared at the screen, then set the phone facedown on the nightstand, where it buzzed once more and went quiet.
That was when I knew I’d have to move to stage two of my plan.
He’d left me no other choice.
I’D HAVE TO MOVE TO STAGE TWO OF MY PLAN.
