Chapter 2

"So, you want Jessie to move in here? Officially?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral.

David shifted, avoiding my gaze. "Well, yes. Just until she's stronger. She needs constant care, Sarah. You see how frail she is. And Ethan adores her. He asked if she could stay more."

Ethan. Of course. Jessie had charmed him, as she charmed everyone she wanted something from. He saw her as fun, indulgent, unlike his sick, tired mother.

The betrayal wasn't just David's anymore. It was a family affair. My son, too, was on their side, even if he didn't understand the full picture.

My isolation was complete.

I thought of the fight I would have put up a few weeks ago. The tears, the arguments. Now, there was nothing. Just a vast, empty space where my will used to be.

"Alright, David," I said. "Let's get a divorce."

He looked up, stunned. "Just… just like that? You agree?"

He'd expected a battle. He'd braced for it. My easy compliance threw him off.

"Why not?" I said with a shrug that cost me nothing. "It seems like what everyone wants."

The surprise on his face was almost comical. He didn't understand. He couldn't see the abyss I was staring into, the one they had all helped dig.

He recovered quickly, relief washing over his features. "Oh, Sarah, that's… that' s very understanding of you. Really. You' re finally being sensible."

There was that word again. Sensible.

"I knew you' d see reason," he continued, a note of condescension creeping in. "This is for the best. And don't worry, I'll always be there for Ethan. We'll make sure he's fine. And I'll always care about you, Sarah. Always."

Empty promises. He was already looking past me, towards his new life with Jessie.

Ethan, who had come to the doorway, piped up, "Does this mean Jessie can stay all the time? Yay!"

He ran to David, who hugged him. "See, Sarah? Ethan's happy."

The tragic irony of it all. They thought I was finally becoming a better person, easier to deal with, just as I was preparing to leave them forever. Their profound misunderstanding was a final, cruel twist.

The next morning, I was making coffee when a wave of dizziness hit me. The counter rushed up, and I stumbled, catching myself just in time. My hand knocked over a sugar bowl, sending it crashing to the floor.

David rushed in, Ethan at his heels.

"What happened?" David asked, his voice sharp with annoyance rather than concern.

"I just… got a little dizzy," I said, leaning against the counter, my heart pounding.

"Dizzy?" David scoffed. "Sarah, are you trying to get attention? We just had a very adult conversation last night. Don't start with the drama."

"Yeah, Mom," Ethan said, his brow furrowed in a perfect imitation of his father's disapproval. "Jessie gets dizzy all the time, but she doesn't make a mess."

Their words, their dismissal. It was like being punched in the gut. They saw my genuine physical symptom as a manipulative act, a childish tantrum.

Their blindness was absolute.

I didn't argue. What was the point? I just bent down, carefully, and started picking up the broken ceramic.

Later, looking in the mirror, I understood. The steroids. They plumped my face, gave my skin a false glow. I didn't look like a dying woman. I looked… healthy. Deceptively so.

The substance that was easing my final days was also my enemy, contributing to their disbelief. It made it easier for them to see me as difficult, demanding, rather than desperately ill.

Another layer of this cruel farce. The ticking clock was hidden from them, and they were too self-absorbed to look for it.

Despite the turmoil, or perhaps because of it, I continued my quiet divestment.

My personal investment portfolio, a modest sum I' d carefully built over years. A small rental property I'd inherited from my grandmother.

I called Jessie into the study. David was there, hovering.

"Jessie," I said, pushing a folder across the desk. "My investments, the property. I'm signing them over to you."

She looked genuinely shocked this time. Even David raised an eyebrow.

"Sarah, I… I can't accept this," Jessie said, though her eyes gleamed with avarice.

"Why not?" I asked. "It's just paperwork. It'll be easier for you to manage them. You have such a good head for these things, always knew how to make money work for you."

A lie, of course. Her only skill was manipulating money out of others.

"But… it's so much," she whispered.

"Consider it an early inheritance," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "I won't be needing it."

I signed the papers with a steady hand. David co-signed where necessary, a look of bewildered gratitude on his face.

He probably thought I was trying to win him back, or secure my place in their new order.

They didn't understand. They wouldn't, until it was too late.

My surrender was complete. My detachment from earthly things almost absolute.

Each signature was a cord cut, setting me adrift. And I welcomed it.