Chapter 1

1.

It was our fifth wedding anniversary, and Grant and I were camping in the Cascade Mountains. Halfway through our hike, he took a call, and then… he just left me there alone on the summit.

That night, a freak storm rolled in, triggering flash floods and mudslides. I huddled in my tent, frantically calling and texting Grant. My phone didn't connect until the next morning, but it wasn't Grant who answered. It was Jenna―the "little sister" he grew up with.

"Grant passed out last night, had too much to drink. If you need something, you can just tell me," she slurred.

I stared at the boulder that had rolled to a stop less than ten feet from my tent, my voice eerily calm. "Nothing, I just want to talk about a divorce."

…

After the flood, the whole mountainside was a wreck. The roads were completely blocked by mud and fallen trees. Last night, I was wearing an elegant dress and perfect makeup; now, I looked like I’d just crawled out of a warzone. But to survive, I had no choice but to trudge my way down the muddy, treacherous mountain path.

Then, my phone rang. It was Grant.

"Where the fuck were you last night?" His voice was cold and accusatory through the line. When I didn't answer, he grew impatient. "Are you deaf? I'm talking to you."

"I'm near Mount Rainier."

Hearing the name, he paused, as if a memory had surfaced.

"Send me your location. I'll pick you up." His voice returned to its usual clipped, business-like tone.

I didn't want to tell him. But the road down was just too difficult. My arms and legs were covered in scratches from branches, and my ankle was swollen. I wasn't sure I could make it to the base of the mountain alive.

Four hours after sending my location, I finally dragged my battered body onto the highway at the foot of the mountain. The man who said he was "coming right away" was nowhere to be seen. I looked at the last text on my phone, "I'm on my way," and let out a cold laugh.

But none of that mattered to me anymore.

In the end, a kind driver in a pickup truck gave me a ride to a nearby motel.

After a shower, I lay on the bed and instinctively picked up my phone. The latest post on my Instagram feed popped up. It was from Jenna:

"Even on the roughest roads, someone will always be willing to give you a ride home."

The photo was of Grant's hand on a steering wheel, his expensive watch gleaming on his wrist.

Five years of marriage, seven years together―gone in an instant. I stared blankly at the screen, then blocked and unfriended them both.

Maybe it was just in my head, but afterward, I felt a sense of relief I hadn't felt in years. I usually don't sleep well in strange places, but that night, I slept like a log.

The next morning, I checked out and went back to our house. After all, a divorce was something I wanted to discuss with him face-to-face.

The house was empty when I arrived. I gave a bitter smile. I should have expected this.

I spent the morning packing my things into suitcases.

Around noon, I was about to order takeout when Grant, against all odds, actually came home. Seeing him at home on a weekday afternoon was rarer than a solar eclipse.

"Where have you been the last two days? You even skipped work this morning, are you crazy?"

"It won't happen again," I replied, my face blank as I listened to his ice-cold voice.

Grant seemed taken aback. He watched me silently retreat to the bedroom, frozen in place. The old me would have stormed into his office, screaming and demanding to know why he left me alone yesterday. He always hated it when I got "hysterical."

Lunchtime arrived. Grant glanced at the pizza box I'd ordered, his face filled with disgust, and tossed the whole thing in the trash.

"I'm free tonight. We can see a movie," he offered, his tone arrogant, as if he were doing me a huge favor.

But considering it was a good opportunity to talk about the divorce, I agreed.

In the afternoon, Grant went back to the office without another word, while I continued packing. In the evening, he actually drove home to pick me up, a rare occurrence. But just as we were nearing the theater, another call pulled him away. Before he left, he said the exact same thing he’d said on the mountain: wait for him at the theater.

The old me was used to waiting. Whenever he had something to do, big or small, I was always the first to accommodate him.

But this time, I didn't wait for him in the cinema like I used to.

I turned around, left the cinema, and walked into a high-end restaurant. I ordered a dozen of my favorite oysters. I never used to order them because Grant was severely allergic to shellfish, so I rarely ate them myself.

As for Grant, he, unsurprisingly, stood me up again.

But I didn't care anymore. After all, I wasn't here for the movie tonight anyway.

And I enjoyed my meal immensely.