“If you bring another woman into my bed, I’m throwing you out!” — Claire thought, and immediately jolted awake.
The hospital ward was dark. The heavy, sterile silence was broken only by the soft breathing and occasional snoring of her roommates.
— Good grief… — she muttered, wiping the sweat from her forehead. — Where did that even come from?
Sure, things with Mark had been rocky lately. They’d even tossed the word “divorce” around. But this? No. He wasn’t that much of an idiot. He wouldn’t bring someone into the house; they had three toddlers, for heaven’s sake. Claire tossed and turned on the narrow hospital cot, trying to get comfortable. Sleep wouldn’t come.
She’d been admitted ten days ago. Or rather, she’d been rushed in by ambulance on a stretcher. She remembered very little—just some strange fever dreams and the distant, annoying hum of voices. She remembered begging to go home, over and over. She kept telling them she had three kids under four, and the oldest was only three years old. An older doctor had tried to calm her down, leaning in close:
— How can you look after children in this state, sweetheart? You’ve got pneumonia and your fever is through the roof. Be a sensible girl. Get better first, then go back to the kids. You need to stay with us for a while, honey. You really do.
She was recovering quickly. They had promised to discharge her tomorrow, provided she gave her word to finish the course of antibiotics at home.
The kids… the youngest, Sophie, was only five months old. For some reason, Claire’s biggest fear was that her daughter would forget her.
— Don’t be ridiculous, — she whispered sternly to herself. — Stop overthinking and go to sleep. Sarah will be here in the morning to pick you up.
Claire had called 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 coming out yet?
— No, — Claire admitted reluctantly. — I’ll call him after we hang up.
— Oh! — Sarah’s voice spiked with an idea. — Why don’t we make it a surprise? Don’t worry about clothes, I’ll bring you something of mine to wear home.
— Okay. Let’s do that.
Claire didn’t want to admit that she simply didn’t feel like talking to her husband. Right before Sophie was born, she’d found out Mark was seeing some girl barely out of college. He had sworn up and down that it meant nothing. At the time, Claire had gritted her teeth and decided her priority was having a healthy baby. The marriage drama could wait. Once the baby arrived, she decided to give things 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; she knew that much. And the kids needed a father. Mark seemed relieved by her decision and settled down. But Claire couldn’t help noticing how quickly he’d close a browser tab whenever she walked into the room. She felt the coldness, the distance that had settled over him. This was Mark—the man who used to be so affectionate, so present.
And though she promised herself she’d try harder, she found it more and more difficult to even go over and give him a hug.
Getting out of the hospital was a joy in itself, but the fact that the spring sun was finally starting to feel warm made it even better. Claire stood on the steps, taking a deep, greedy breath of fresh air. Her lungs still felt a bit tight, but that breeze after the stuffy hospital ward was everything.
Sarah gave a short honk from the car.
— The second I get home, I’m getting in the shower! — Claire laughed as she buckled her seatbelt. — I smell like a pharmacy.
— Don’t worry about it, — Sarah smiled. — A quick scrub and you’ll be smelling like your usual perfume again. The main thing is you’re back on your feet.
— I am. And Sarah, thank you. For checking in on the kids. And for picking me up.
— Oh, stop it! What are friends for? Anyway, tell me… what’s the plan with Mark? You mentioned divorce before…
— I don’t know, — Claire sighed. — Honestly, I don’t have the energy to decide right now. I’m just taking it one day at a time.
— Fair enough, — Sarah agreed, turning into the familiar driveway.
— Yeah? — Mark’s voice came through the intercom. Sarah winked at Claire and put a finger to her lips.
— It’s Sarah.
— I’m not letting you in.
Claire stared at her friend in shock. “What’s going on?” she mouthed. Sarah waved her off.
— Claire asked me to drop off a book for her.
— Fine, — Mark grumbled. — I’ll come down.
He appeared a minute later. The heavy front door creaked open, and Mark froze as his eyes landed on his wife standing next to Sarah.
— Hi, — he said, his voice completely flat.
— What are you doing here?
— I got discharged, — Claire said, shrugging.
— Right… well, come on then. — He took the heavy hospital bag from her and started up the stairs at a brisk pace. Claire gave her friend a quick goodbye and followed him. They climbed in silence.
— I’m not alone, — Mark said, breaking the tense quiet. — Chloe stopped by to help out.
— Chloe?
Claire felt a physical jolt. She knew exactly who Chloe was. The “intern” her husband had been messing around with. He’d said it was over, that they weren’t even speaking…
He’d been lying. Strangely, she wasn’t even surprised or upset. On the contrary, now that the lie was out in the open, it felt like she could finally breathe. But what now?
They walked into the apartment. A strange handbag sat on the hallway table; a pair of unfamiliar shoes were kicked off by the door. It was oddly quiet.
— So, — Mark started coldly, — why did you bail on the hospital? Or did they just kick you out early?
— I was worried about you guys, — Claire muttered, caught off guard. — I didn’t know how you’d manage, you can’t even get to the grocery store with the kids…
— Well, — he nodded, his voice turning lethally icy, — 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 telling me this? — Claire asked, confused.
— I’m leaving. Now that you’re home, you don’t need my help anymore…
— Mark, wait… I’m still… I was discharged early! I’m not 100%!
— You’ll manage, — he smirked.
— I love you… — Claire whispered.
He looked back over his shoulder and, enunciating every word, replied: — Well, I don’t love you.
Without another word, Claire went into the bathroom. She just wanted to wash her face. She stayed in there a little longer than necessary; she didn’t want to see Chloe. And she didn’t have to. Her husband and his young girlfriend left almost immediately. Claire opened the door to the nursery and stepped in quietly. The older two, Mia and Lily, didn’t move at first.
“They weren’t expecting me,” Claire thought, reaching out to them.
— Mommy’s home!
The girls scrambled up and threw themselves at her.
— Mommy!
Holding them close, breathing in that sweet, milky scent of childhood, Claire felt a surge of genuine happiness. Sophie was still napping, but when she opened her eyes and saw her mother, she let out a huge, gummy smile. Without a second thought, Claire took the soup Mark had made and poured it down the drain. She couldn’t bring herself to eat it, let alone feed it to her kids. She found a carton of eggs and some bacon in the fridge. Luxury. After asking a neighbor to watch the kids for thirty minutes, she headed to the store. She had a little cash left in her jacket pocket from her hospital stay—just enough for one grocery run.
That evening, Sarah dropped by.
— You knew, didn’t you? — Claire looked her friend straight in the eye.
— I stopped by… the other day, — Sarah said, clearly hating the memory. — And I saw her. What was I supposed to do, Claire? If I told you and you didn’t believe me… or if I said nothing… I figured we’d just show up unannounced and let the chips fall where they may.
— It’s okay, — Claire brushed it off. — You did the right thing. Maybe it’s for the best.
The next morning brought a stunning discovery: the “emergency” stash was gone. Claire checked her wallet twice, where she usually kept the household cash. Empty.
— The kids got sick, I had to spend it on medicine, — Mark explained over the phone.
— But we have no money left… — Claire could barely speak from the shock. — When the food runs out, how am I supposed to buy more?
— Sorry, can’t help you, — Mark replied curtly. — Payday isn’t for a while.
That night, after tucking the kids in, Claire sat down at her laptop and typed “freelance writing” into a search engine. The work wasn’t easy, but it paid. Every day, Claire submitted a short story or an article. Romances and cozy mysteries seemed to be the big sellers. They weren’t hard to write, but they were time-consuming. She almost stopped sleeping entirely. Her days were a blur of housework and toddlers; after 10 PM, her second shift began, lasting until 4 or 5 in the morning.
— You’re killing yourself! — Sarah insisted, looking at her exhausted friend.
— Maybe, — Claire smiled. — But I have money to live on. Just wait, I’m going to start looking into screenwriting next!
— Is Mark even paying child support?
— Oh, sure, — Claire laughed. — A whopping five hundred dollars a month. The King is generous! Don’t spend it all in one place, right?
— Ugh, what a prick, — Sarah grimaced.
They didn’t talk about it much after that. Mark showed up occasionally. Once a week, he’d take the kids to the park for a couple of hours. The pittance he provided for their upbringing didn’t seem to embarrass him at all. Claire didn’t want to argue with him. Her love for the man had turned into such a profound disappointment that she didn’t even want to engage. Rumor had it he was already living with someone new. Not Chloe, someone else. It was baffling how quickly he could “fall in love” and start a new family before the divorce papers were even dry.
They officially divorced eighteen months later. Mark remarried and informed the kids that he and his new wife were moving to Florida permanently. Honestly, it was a relief. The kids were often upset after seeing him anyway. Mark preferred to drop them off at “soft play” centers while he sat in a nearby Starbucks. The girls said they barely got to talk to him. Still, his move felt like a betrayal.
— They’re right, in a way, — Claire told her friend. — It is a betrayal. At least they saw him once in a while… but on the other hand, let him go. At least he won’t be hurting them with his indifference anymore.
— What about you? — Sarah asked sadly. — Do you miss him at all?
Claire paused for a moment.
— No, — she admitted. — I think I’m finally, completely done with him.
Work was going well. Since Claire had started moving from short stories to screenwriting, her income had skyrocketed. And then, something extraordinary happened. Her agent called her early one morning.
— Claire, baby, surprise!
— Jim, — Claire answered, her voice thick with sleep. — It is 6 AM. Please, just get to the point.
— Fine, — Jim was in a manic mood. — Guess who just optioned your last pilot?
— Well? — She was losing her patience.
— The BBC, Claire! And for your information, they think you’re a genius and want to sign a multi-year deal!
— What did you say? — Claire sat bolt upright, nearly waking Sophie, who was curled up next to her. — They bought my script? They want me to write more?
— It finally sank in! — Jim laughed. — And yes, darling, you have a flight in a week, so figure out what to do with the kiddos.
— A flight? Where?
— London, Claire! To sign the contract. I’ve already booked the ticket. In the meantime, get some rest, pamper yourself. Let’s show the Brits we know what we’re doing over here!
— What are you implying? — Claire tried to sound stern, but she couldn’t stop smiling.
— Well… — Jim hesitated. — Get your hair done. Buy a new dress. Don’t be mad, Claire, but you’ve been working so hard you’ve… let yourself go a little.
— Alright, you brat, — she laughed. — I solemnly swear to spend today making myself presentable!
Two days later, Claire was walking along the Mediterranean coast.
She still had a few days before she had to be in London, and the shock of it all was so great that she felt like doing something impulsive and indulgent.
She’d flown to Italy for a three-day solo trip. Sarah had taken the kids, and Claire spent her days wandering through boutiques, drinking fresh juice in seaside cafes, and swimming in the ocean. Suddenly, she realized she really liked herself: a beautiful woman, still in her prime, who had won. What had she won? Everything.
She’d survived her husband’s betrayal, she’d raised three kids on her own, and she hadn’t broken.
She’d found her calling, and now she was flying to London to sign a deal with a major network. Right now, she was just a slender brunette in a flowing sundress, walking barefoot on the sand while seagulls circled overhead. It was perfect.
— Excuse me, miss! — someone called out in English.
She hadn’t even noticed the tall man catching up to her.
— Yes?
— I might be wrong, but I think I know you. Are you Claire Lenova?
She looked closer. His face was incredibly familiar…
— Idiot, — she muttered to herself in a low voice. — The whole world knows who he is, and you’re just standing here.
— I’m sorry?
— No, nothing. Yes, that’s me, — Claire said quickly.
— I’ve been offered a role in the project based on your script, — the man said with a modest smile. — And honestly, after reading it, I said yes immediately. You’re very talented, Claire. Truly.
— Coffee? — she asked, completely flustered by the compliment.
— Wait, coffee? You just… out of nowhere, invited him for coffee? — Sarah was practically screaming on the phone.
— Oh, Sarah, I just panicked! He’s such a huge star, everyone loves him, he’s so talented, and suddenly he’s praising ME! Do you understand?!
Sarah gave a metaphorical wink. — That’s my girl! Show ’em how it’s done!
— And then, — Claire rambled on, ignoring her friend, — we had dinner together.
— And? — Sarah asked pointedly.
— And I had a plane to catch that night. But we met up again in London. He said he was sorry we hadn’t exchanged numbers earlier. I was busy all day at the studio…
— And? — Sarah repeated.
— And I just got home. Sarah, while I’m working with the network, I’m going to have to move to London with the kids. It’s a three-year contract for now, and after that… who knows.
The phone in her pocket buzzed.
— Claire, it’s Mark. I’m in town. I want to see the kids.
— How touching that you remembered them, — she said dryly.
— Don’t be like that, — he said softly.
— Really? Why not? Actually, whatever. It’s fine. It’s good you’re here. I need you to sign the travel consent forms so I can take the kids abroad. Meet me at the cafe down the street in half an hour.
— So when are you leaving? — Mark was fidgeting with his coffee cup, spinning it back and forth on the saucer.
The sound was grating.
— Two weeks.
— Right… so that’s how it is, — he said thoughtfully.
— Yes, that’s how it is, — Claire said impatiently, tucking the signed documents into her purse. — You have plenty of time to see the kids before we go.
— And then I won’t see them for three years…
Claire’s voice turned to steel.
— That didn’t seem to bother you when you moved to Florida.
Mark looked at her with a longing expression, but she wasn’t stopping.
— How many times did you call them? Twice? Three times? How many times did you visit? You don’t give a damn about these kids, Mark. You can play the martyr all you want, but please, not in front of me.
— Don’t be so angry. — He tried to reach for her hand.
Claire pulled back instantly.
— Okay, fine. I… I treated you guys badly. But I was… it was a mid-life crisis, Claire, try to understand! I needed to change something, to run…
— And you did, — she smirked.
— I’m not denying it. But lately… check your phone, you got a text.
An English message flashed on the screen: “Counting the days until you get here. Can’t wait to see you again and meet the kids. I found a great little cafe nearby. We’ll definitely have to go there together, okay?”
— And then, — Mark continued, looking defeated, — I started thinking about you guys more and more. I only recently realized how much I need you. If you’ll just let me…
— An arms dealer, — she said suddenly, looking her ex-husband in the eye.
He had aged; his once-sharp jawline had softened, and his beard was almost entirely grey.
— What?
— There was no crisis, Mark, — she explained. — You were just bored with the routine and the responsibilities. It happens to everyone. But not everyone abandons their family to fend for themselves. You did.
— I already said I’m…
— Of course, — she stood up and threw on her coat, getting ready to leave. — You apologized. But only because you realized your new life has routine and responsibilities too. And now you see your ex-wife is doing pretty well for herself, right? That’s not going to fly, Mark. Sorry.
He gave a sad smile.
— You used to be softer.
— Naive, — Claire corrected. — And I paid the price for it. But you know, all this confidence and peace I have now? It’s the armor I bought against naivety—the one 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’d dive into London together—the smells, the sounds, the history. A new, unfamiliar chapter was beginning. And she knew, just like all the ones after it, it was going to be a happy one.
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