I didn't wait up for Everett that night.

The silence of the house was absolute until his phone started buzzing in the small hours of the morning. When I answered, it wasn't his voice on the other end. It was Hailey Silva.

"Evelyn, Everett’s had way too much to drink," she said, her tone dripping with mock concern. "He wouldn't hear of going home, so I had to bring him to my place. Please, don't misunderstand," she added, a thin veneer of sweetness over the jab. "I actually just kicked him out of my bed. He’s crashing in my brother’s room now."

The room was pitch black. I didn't turn on a light. I just sat there, listening to the static, waiting. Hailey stayed on the line, clearly waiting for me to snap, to accuse her, to play the part of the hysterical wife.

I didn't give her the satisfaction. "Put Everett on," I said.

Three seconds later, I heard the blurred, slurry rhythm of his voice through the speaker. "Evelyn? They kept pushing shots on me. I’ve got such a pounding headache, I couldn't possibly drive. I’m staying here tonight."

His voice didn't just sound drunk; it sounded burdened. Every word carried a sharp edge of resentment. My presence, my existence in his home—it had become an annoyance to him.

"Everett," I said, my voice steady, "do you regret it?"

He let out a careless, dismissive grunt—an 'ah' that could have meant anything. Before I could press him further, the phone moved. He hadn't hung up, but he’d pushed the device aside.

Then, Hailey’s voice drifted through, soft and triumphant.

"Everett, you’re being so cold to Evelyn. Aren't you worried she’ll be crushed? What if she starts wondering if there’s something going on between us? You’re going to get me in trouble."

The fog of alcohol seemed to vanish from Everett’s tone. There was a low, amused hum in his throat.

"She was my intended long before I married her," he replied, his voice chillingly detached. "She’s been jealous of you for years. One more night isn't going to change anything."

He was right. Before he married me, he and Hailey had been promised to one another. I didn't even know about their history until months after our wedding, when one of his friends let it slip over drinks. At the time, Everett had claimed he rejected that lifelong arrangement for me. I had believed him. I had thought he loved me.

But three years can erode almost anything.

Just like he had once loved me, he now clearly despised the idea of coming home.

***

"I’m done, Everett. I don’t want to be with you anymore."

The flicker of annoyance on his face vanished, replaced by a flash of genuine panic. I held out my phone, showing him the video I’d recorded. He stared at the screen, his face draining of color as he scrambled for an excuse.

I cut him off. "We don't work. You’ve realized it, and so have I. You regret not marrying Hailey, so you've been steering your life in that direction for a while now. Don't insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise."

The raw truth hung in the air, leaving him looking exposed and pathetic. Under my calm, unyielding gaze, he finally let his head dip in a nod of concession.

"Fine. Yes, I’ve thought about it. I’ve wondered what life would look like if we hadn't gotten married," he admitted, his voice tight. "But Evelyn, we are married. I’m going to take responsibility for this union. That video? It’s real, but I didn't sleep with her. I can promise you that. It won't happen again."

He stumbled back, physically recoiling as if I might keep digging into the rot. He fled, looking like a man haunted by the mess he’d created.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. He was clearly miserable with me, clearly already planning a life without me, yet the moment I handed him the exit, he started playing the role of the devoted, heartbroken husband.

For the next few days, I kept asking him when he wanted to file the papers. He refused to even entertain the conversation. We lived in separate wings of the house, a cold war of silence and avoidance.

Then came the invitation to Roland Harrison’s birthday gala. Everett cornered me, his voice strained.

"Evelyn, I need you to come with me tomorrow," he urged. "If not for me, then for Grandfather. He’s the only one who has ever truly looked at you as his granddaughter."

I couldn't say no. In the hollow, judgmental halls of the Harrison family, Roland was the only one who hadn't looked down on me. I would go.

I told myself that this gala would be the end. A final appearance, and then a final goodbye.