"If you bring another woman into my bed, you're out!" Jennifer thought, and the intensity of the idea jolted her awake.
The hospital ward was dark. The heavy, sterile silence was broken only by the rhythmic breathing and occasional snoring of her roommates.
"God..." she whispered, rubbing her forehead. "Where did that even come from?"
Sure, things with Mark had been rocky lately—it had felt like they were staring down the barrel of a divorce—but that? No. He wasn't a fool; he wouldn't bring someone into the house with three small children sleeping just down the hall. Jennifer shifted on the thin hospital mattress, trying to get comfortable. Sleep was a lost cause.
She had been admitted ten days ago. More accurately, she'd been rushed in by ambulance on a stretcher. She remembered very little: just strange fever dreams and the irritating drone of voices. She remembered begging to go home, over and over, telling anyone who would listen that she had three kids under four, and the oldest was only three years old. An elderly doctor had tried to soothe her:
"How can you look after children in this state? It's pneumonia, your fever is through the roof. Be a smart girl—get well first, then go back to the kids. You need to stay here, honey. You have to."
She was recovering quickly. They had promised to discharge her tomorrow, provided she gave her word to finish the full course of antibiotics at home.
The kids... the youngest, Sophie, was only five months old. For some reason, Jennifer's biggest fear was that the baby would forget her.
"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded herself. "Stop overthinking and just sleep. Sarah's coming in the morning to pick you up. You're going home."
Jennifer had asked her friend in advance. There was simply no one else to get her. Mark couldn't exactly leave the kids home alone to bring her a change of clothes. Sarah had agreed instantly.
"Have you told Mark you're being discharged yet?"
"No," Jennifer admitted reluctantly. "I'll call him after we hang up."
"Oh!" Sarah's tone shifted, hit by a sudden inspiration. "Why don't we make it a surprise? Don't worry about clothes; I'll bring you something of mine to wear."
"Let's do it."
Jennifer didn't want to admit that she wasn't particularly eager to talk to her husband anyway. Just before Sophie was born, she had discovered Mark was seeing some young girl. He had sworn up and down that it meant nothing. At the time, Jennifer had forced herself to stay focused on one goal: delivering a healthy baby. Family drama could wait. After the birth, she decided to give the relationship a second chance.
"After all," she'd tell herself, "I'm partly to blame. I completely lost myself in the kids..."
She still loved him, and she knew it. Besides, the children needed a father. Mark had seemed relieved by her decision and settled down. But Jennifer often noticed how quickly he'd minimize a Skype window when she walked into the room. She saw how cold and distant he had become. This was Mark—the man who used to be so affectionate and attentive.
And though she promised herself she would try harder, it became increasingly difficult to even walk up and check in on him, let alone hug him.
***
Escaping the hospital was a joy in itself, but the fact that the spring sun was finally starting to warm the air made it even better. Jennifer stood on the porch, taking a deep, appreciative breath. Her lungs weren't quite back to a hundred percent, but the fresh breeze after the stifling hospital air was heaven.
Sarah gave a short honk from her car.
"First thing I'm doing when I get home is taking a long bath!" Jennifer promised cheerfully as she buckled her seatbelt. "I smell like a pharmacy."
"Nonsense," Sarah smiled. "A quick scrub and you'll be back to your usual perfume. The main thing is you're healthy."
"True. Sarah, thank you for checking in on my lot while I was gone. And for picking me up."
"Don't mention it! Tell me, what have you decided about Mark? You mentioned divorce before..."
"I don't know," Jennifer sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't have the strength to decide anything right now. I'll just let things be for a while."
"Fair enough," Sarah agreed, turning into the familiar driveway.
"Yeah?" Mark's voice crackled through the intercom. Sarah winked at Jennifer and put a finger to her lips.
"It's Sarah."
"I'm not letting you in."
Jennifer stared at her friend in shock. "What's going on?" she mouthed. Sarah waved her off.
"Jennifer asked me to bring her a book."
"Fine," Mark replied, sounding annoyed. "I'll bring it down."
He came out a minute later. The heavy building door creaked open, and Mark froze when he saw his wife standing next to Sarah.
"Hi," he said, his voice entirely flat.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was discharged," Jennifer shrugged.
"Right... Well, let's go then." He took the heavy hospital bag from her and started walking quickly up the stairs. Jennifer said a hasty goodbye to her friend and followed. They climbed in silence.
"I'm not alone," Mark said, breaking the tense quiet. "Chloe stopped by to help out."
"Chloe?"
Jennifer felt a jolt of nausea. She knew exactly who Chloe was. The same girl her husband had been messing around with. He had told her it was over, that they weren't even speaking...
So, he'd been lying. Strangely, she wasn't surprised or even upset. On the contrary, now that the lie was out in the open, it felt easier to breathe. But what now?
They entered the apartment. A strange handbag sat in the hallway; a pair of unfamiliar shoes were kicked aside. The children were nowhere to be heard.
"So," Mark began coldly, "why did you run away from the hospital? Or did you just talk them into letting you out early?"
"I was worried about you guys," Jennifer murmured, confused. "I wondered how you were managing, you couldn't even get to the grocery store..."
"Well," her husband nodded, his tone icy and clinical, "there's fresh food in the house. And as you can see, the place is clean. I expect it to stay that way, because the kids need a clean environment."
"Why are you saying this?" Jennifer asked, not following.
"I'm leaving. Since you're home, my help is no longer..."
"Mark, wait—I'm not... I was discharged early, I'm still recovering!"
"You'll manage," he smirked.
"I love you..." Jennifer whispered.
He looked back over his shoulder and, articulating every word, replied, "Well, I don't love you."
Jennifer didn't say another word. She went straight to the bathroom. She stayed in there longer than necessary; she didn't want to see Chloe. She didn't have to. Her husband and his young girlfriend left very quickly. Jennifer opened the door to the nursery and stepped in quietly. Her daughters, Maya and Lily, didn't move at first.
"They weren't expecting me," Jennifer thought, reaching out to them.
"Mommy's home!"
The girls scrambled toward her. "Mommy!"
Holding them close, breathing in that sweet childhood scent, Jennifer felt a flash of genuine happiness. Sophie was still sleeping, but when she opened her eyes and saw her mother, she beamed. Jennifer took the soup her husband had made and poured it straight down the drain without a second thought. She couldn't bring herself to feed it to the children. In the fridge, she found a carton of eggs and some ham. Luxury! After asking a neighbor to watch the kids for thirty minutes, Jennifer went out for groceries. She had a little cash left in her jacket pocket from her hospital stay—just enough for one supermarket run.
That evening, Sarah dropped by.
"You knew, didn't you?" Jennifer looked her friend right in the eye.
"I stopped by... the other day," Sarah said, clearly uncomfortable. "And I saw... her. What was I supposed to do, Jen? Tell you while you're in a hospital bed? If I said nothing... that didn't feel right either. So I decided we'd just show up unannounced and let the chips fall where they may."
"It's okay," Jennifer waved it off. "You did the right thing. Maybe it's for the best."
***
The next morning brought a stunning discovery: her emergency stash was gone. Jennifer checked the wallet where she usually kept her cash several times. Empty.
"The kids caught a cold; I had to spend it on medicine," Mark explained over the phone.
"But we have no money left at all..." Jennifer could barely speak from the shock. "The groceries will run out—how am I supposed to buy more?"
"Sorry, can't help you," Mark said dryly. "Payday isn't for a while."
That evening, after putting the kids to bed, Jennifer sat at the computer and typed "freelance" into the search bar. The work wasn't easy, but it paid. Every day, Jennifer turned in one short story to a client. Romance and mystery were in high demand. They weren't hard to write, but they were time-consuming. She almost stopped sleeping. The day was spent on chores and the kids, and after ten p.m., her second shift began, lasting until four or five in the morning.
"You're burning yourself out!" Sarah insisted, looking at her exhausted friend.
"But," Jennifer smiled, "I have money to live on. Just wait—I'm going to start learning screenwriting next!"
"Is Mark even paying child support?"
"Oh, absolutely," Jennifer laughed. "A whole hundred dollars a week. The king is generous! We're practically living in luxury."
"Jerk," Sarah grimaced.
They didn't talk about it much after that. Mark appeared from time to time. Once a week, he'd take the kids to the park for a couple of hours. The pittance he provided for their support didn't seem to embarrass him at all. Jennifer didn't want to argue with him. Her love for this man had turned into such a horrific disappointment that she didn't want to engage more than necessary. Rumor had it he was already living with someone new. Not Chloe, someone else. It was baffling how he could fall in love and start a new family so quickly, before the divorce was even finalized.
They divorced eighteen months later. Mark remarried and informed the kids that he and his new wife were moving to Florida permanently. Jennifer felt a sense of relief. Too often, the children were upset after seeing him. Mark preferred to drop them off at indoor play areas while he went to a nearby café. The girls said they rarely actually talked to their dad. Still, they viewed his departure as a betrayal.
"They're right, in a way," Jennifer told her friend. "It is a betrayal. At least before they saw him once in a while... But on the other hand, let him go. He won't be able to hurt them with his indifference anymore."
"And you?" Sarah asked sadly. "Aren't you sorry?"
Jennifer hesitated for a moment.
"No, I don't think so," she admitted. "My disillusionment is complete now."
Work was going well. Since Jennifer had started combining creative writing with screenwriting, her income had grown, and then something extraordinary happened. Her agent called her one morning.
"Jen, surprise!"
"Ben," Jennifer answered sleepily, "it's six in the morning. For the love of God, get to the point."
"Fine," Ben was in a fantastic mood. "Guess who bought your last screenplay?"
"Well?" She was losing patience.
"The BBC, Jen! And for your information, you're a massive talent, and they want to sign a multi-year contract!"
"What did you say?" Jennifer sat bolt upright, nearly waking Sophie, who was curled up next to her. "They bought my script? And they want more?"
"It finally clicked!" Ben laughed. "And yes, my dear, you have a flight in a week, so figure out what to do with the munchkins."
"What flight? Where?"
"To London, of course! To sign the contract. I've already booked the ticket. In the meantime, relax, get yourself ready. Let's show the Brits we've got real stars over here!"
"What are you implying?" Jennifer tried to sound stern, but a smile was breaking through her voice.
"Well..." Ben hesitated. "Go to the salon. Buy a new dress. Don't be offended, Jen, but you've let yourself go a little because of all the work."
"Fine, you brat," she laughed. "I solemnly promise to dedicate today to making myself presentable!"
***
Two days later, Jennifer was walking along the shore of the Mediterranean.
She still had a few days before London, and the shock of the upcoming event was so great that she wanted to do something impulsive and lovely.
She'd flown to Italy for three days. Sarah had taken the kids, and Jennifer spent her days wandering through boutiques, drinking fresh juice in seaside cafés, and swimming. Suddenly, she began to really like herself again: a beautiful woman, still young, who had won. Won what? Everything.
She had survived the betrayal of a husband she loved, stayed with three children on her hands, and she hadn't broken.
She had found work she loved, and now she was flying to London to sign a contract with a major network. Right now, she was just a slender brunette in a flowing sundress, walking barefoot along the shore as seagulls circled above. It was beautiful.
"Excuse me, miss!" someone called out in English.
She hadn't noticed the tall stranger catching up to her.
"Yes?"
"I might be mistaken, but I think I know you. Are you Jennifer Lenova?"
She looked closer. The man's face was familiar...
"Idiot," she muttered to herself in her head, "the whole world knows him, and you're just standing here."
"I'm sorry?"
"No, nothing. Yes, it's really me," Jennifer said quickly.
"I've been offered a role in the film based on your screenplay," the man smiled modestly. "And you know, as soon as I read it, I said yes. You are very talented, Jennifer. Incredibly talented!"
"Coffee?" she suggested, flustered by the unexpected praise.
***
"Wait, coffee? You just hauled him off for coffee right then and there?" Sarah was outraged.
"Oh, Sarah, I was just so incredibly caught off guard! He's such a celebrity, so many people love him, he's so talented, and suddenly he's praising me! Me! Do you understand?"
Sarah gave a meaningful wink. "Attagirl! Show them what you're made of."
"And then," Jennifer rambled on, ignoring her friend's remark, "we had dinner together."
"And?" Sarah inquired professionally.
"And I had a flight that evening. But we met up again in London. He said he regretted that we hadn't exchanged numbers. I was busy all day..."
"And?" her friend continued the interrogation.
"And I just flew home. Sarah, while I'm working with the network, the kids and I have to move to London. For three years at first, and then... who knows."
The phone in her pocket vibrated.
"Jennifer, it's Mark. I'm in town, and I want to see the kids."
"How sweet of you to remember them," she spat.
"Don't be like that," he asked softly.
"Really? Why not? Anyway, fine. It's actually good you're here. I need you to sign the consent forms for the kids to travel abroad. Meet me in half an hour at the café by my place."
***
"When are you leaving?" Mark stirred his coffee, turning the cup back and forth by the handle.
The sound was grating.
"Two weeks."
"I see... so that's how it is," he said thoughtfully.
"Yes, that's how it is," Jennifer said impatiently, tucking the signed documents into her purse. "In the meantime, you have plenty of time to see the kids."
"And then I won't see them for three whole years..."
Jennifer's voice turned to steel. "That didn't seem to bother you when you moved away to soak up the Florida sun."
Mark looked at Jennifer with longing, but she was past stopping.
"How many times did you call them? Twice? Three times? How many times did you come to visit? You don't care about the kids, Mark. You can play the tragic father all you want, but please, not in front of me."
"Don't be so angry." He reached out to take her hand.
Jennifer pulled back.
"Alright. I... I treated you badly. But I was... it was a crisis, Jen, try to understand! I wanted to change something, to run..."
"And you did," she smirked.
"I'm not denying it. But lately... I've been thinking about you guys more and more. I only recently realized how much I actually need you. And if you'll just let me..."
"Arms dealer," she said suddenly, looking her ex-husband in the face.
He had aged; his once-sharp jawline was softening, and his beard was almost entirely gray.
"What?"
"There was no crisis, Mark," she explained. "You were just bored with the routine and the responsibilities. That happens to everyone. But not everyone abandons their family to their fate. You did."
"I already said I'm—"
"Of course," she stood up and threw on her coat, preparing to leave. "You apologized. But only because you found out that your new family has routine, responsibilities, and chores, too. And meanwhile, the ex-wife has done quite well for herself, hasn't she? It's not going to work, Mark. I'm sorry."
He gave a sad smile.
"You used to be softer."
"Naive," Jennifer corrected. "And I paid the price for it. But you know, all my current confidence and peace—that's the weapon against naivety that you sold me in exchange for your freedom. You can see the kids tomorrow."
She walked down the street, smiling. Tonight, she and the kids would bake cookies, and she'd read to them before bed. And in two weeks, they would dive into London together: its scents, its sounds, its traditions. A new, unfamiliar chapter of her life was beginning. And she knew, just like all the chapters to follow, it would be a happy one.
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