Chapter 3

3 Liam was right; his studio wasn’t my concern anymore. I wasn’t his official manager, I was just his wife who managed his career. But I wasn’t going to be that anymore, either. The next morning, I went to my office to clear my desk. I heard the studio manager trying to reason with Liam. "Mr. Walker, you were too rash yesterday. All these years, Mrs. Walker has handled everything. If she stops coming, the next exhibit will be a total mess." Liam scoffed. "She's just riding on my success. It’s all because of my talent.” "If she doesn't want to do the work, I'll get Chloe to do it. It's all just busywork anyone can handle." Then Liam seemed to remember something. “Chloe’s different, she doesn’t want to suck up to people so, don’t let her join any drinking events." I was about to go in and hand over my job duties, but there was no point anymore. My phone beeped. Paris said my visa was ready. I went home and started packing. Halfway through, Liam came home, with a box of pigeon soup. I saw the broken seal and nearly empty soup and dumped the leftover soup in the trash. Liam was about to blow up, but the soup in the garbage stopped him in his tracks. “Don’t get the wrong idea, it's not leftovers," he muttered. He forgot that I’m allergic to pigeon soup. Liam had been young and angry when he'd gotten in a fight and I'd taken a knife for him, he'd then bought pigeon soup to help me heal. I ended up in the ICU. He swore he would never let me have pigeon soup again. But time had erased even those memories. Maybe my silence made Liam uncomfortable. He paced around me before giving up and trying to sound sorry. “I was out of line today. I humiliated you in front of everyone. But I am the head of this studio, I have to treat everyone fairly.” "I’m not saying that I don’t want you to work in my studio anymore. Maybe you could say sorry to Chloe..." "Excuse me." I ignored him, going into the bathroom to get my toiletries. Liam’s words just floated into nothing. In the bathroom drawer, I found a pack of feminine pads that weren’t mine. Just then, Chloe called Liam again. “Liam, I just got my period at the hospital, and I don’t have any pads for teens. I think I left a pack at your house? Could you bring it to me?” Liam went into the bathroom. He saw the open drawer, his eyes darting to it before looking away. He went out and told Chloe, "I can't find it, I'll go buy new ones." "Hurry, please. If I get blood on the bed, the nurses will get mad! And I'll be so embarrassed." Liam’s patience for Chloe seemed endless. He was all about the details. After he hung up, I finished packing. He glanced back at me, awkward. “Don't read into it, she just changed clothes here once.” “Okay,” I said, flatly. Liam looked annoyed. “Why are you being so cold? If you really care, I just won’t go.” I just laughed a little and said it was fine. Liam watched me to see if I was really okay, and then hesitated before leaving. He stopped at the door, then came back in. “Where are you going with all this luggage?” I replied, "Paris." Liam looked relieved. “Next week then, I'll make time, and we can go to Paris for a honeymoon." On my last day in town, Liam suddenly remembered our old agreement. It was too late. At the airport, I saw Chloe's Instagram post. She was lying in a hospital bed with foam on her hair, while a pair of man's hands washed it. I could hear Liam's voice cooing, “Don’t wiggle.” Chloe added a bunch of hearts: ["My hands hurt and I can’t get them wet, so my man had to wash my hair for me, I’m so shy, I’m covered in grease, but he doesn’t care. He said he will take care of me."] Then Liam's text came: ["Something came up next week. I'll cancel the tickets and we can go next month."] He didn’t know that I never booked his ticket. Right before my flight took off, I sent the divorce agreement to Liam, and went airplane mode.