I couldn't recall the last time Everett and I had held a real conversation.

He had come home to pack a suitcase, but he hadn't even bothered to tell me he was back. I stumbled upon him entirely by accident while heading downstairs for a glass of water. When the man saw me, there was a fleeting flicker of panic in his eyes.

His lips twitched, as if he were wrestling with his own conscience. Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with a guarded, performative caution.

"It’s the weekend tomorrow. Some friends and I are heading out for a camping trip. Evelyn, do you want to come along?"

His entire frame was rigid as he asked. Was it anticipation? Or the cold dread of me actually saying yes? I couldn't help but let out a short, dry laugh. The tension in Everett’s eyes became even more pronounced. Suddenly, a wickedly amused thought occurred to me.

"Sure. It’s been years since I went on a camping trip. Why not?"

The man froze, staring at me as if I’d lost my mind. Everett knew better than anyone that I didn't fit into his circle of friends. That question had been nothing more than a courtesy, a hollow script he felt obligated to perform to maintain appearances.

He crouched down, his movements sharp and irritated, and started pulling his clothes back out of the suitcase. He wouldn't meet my gaze; he was clearly seething.

"I just remembered some urgent matters at the office I need to handle. I'm not going anymore. And you shouldn't bother, either."

"Oh."

I didn't press him. I simply turned and headed back up the stairs, enjoying a refreshing glass of water in the quiet of the house.

A while later, I heard his car pull away. To make sure I didn't intercept him, Everett had been tiptoeing around, sneaking out like a thief with his luggage in tow. In the past, he might have been afraid of me embarrassing him in front of his friends. Now, he was just terrified that I might ruin his "fun."

I stood by the window, watching the empty driveway where his car had vanished.

Everett, when are you finally going to bring up the divorce? Because, believe me, I’m ready.