I waited for Tiago to come home from another late shift a few weeks later. He could have closed the bar down, now, even if he lost all the rest of the inheritance. What he’d been given so far was enough for very easy living for a couple of generations to come, at least. He loved the place, though, and he didn’t want to close it.

I totally got that. I didn’t want to lose my organization, especially now that I had started to gain ground with the kids and in the community. I didn’t want to lose the money I’d made through my agreement with Tiago, it was already useful. That wasn’t why I stayed with him though. I stayed with him because I loved him.

We spent far more time in arguments than in bed now, and that feeling of isolation had only grown worse, not better, but I loved him. I was so tense around him, and I knew what set his nerves on edge, but I persisted. It was like an obsession and I couldn’t stop myself.

A few days ago, I’d tried to discuss the possibility of medication with him. There were pills that could help, with ovulation and stuff, that might increase my chance of pregnancy. He’d just gone cold and left the room.

The next day, I’d bought a new washing machine. And it was like I’d done it knowing it’d start a fight. Which, of course, it did.

I did feel defeated after that. I couldn’t make it better, and I only seemed to make it worse. When I’d seen Layla and her parents when they came back from Canada, I’d been resolved to stay with him. She deserved the best effort from us, and maybe one day she’d need even more surgery, or a new heart, and that wouldn’t be cheap in our country. I felt pressured to stay, for her.

I wanted to go home, to my old apartment, to my old life, but I couldn’t. Beneath it all, the pressure, the worry, the stress, I loved Tiago. I loved how determined he was to provide for little Layla, a girl with color in her cheeks again, that was learning to play, and live a normal life, at last. I loved how he used to be with me, so bold, so pleased, so full of energy. Now, we’d turned each other into two old people that resented the fuck out of each other. How had we let this happen?

Maybe it was me, perhaps I’d done it? Old habits were hard to break, and I’d always been a prickly little cow. Maybe I’d driven him to be this bitter man that came home with a look of defeat and anger on his face? Or maybe it was him. Maybe his damned stubbornness about the IVF was driving me insane.

Was it time for me to leave then? Was that the option I was left with?

I buried my hands in my hair and leaned forward on the couch. Oscar came into the living room and jumped up beside me. He looked at me, hissed, and glared.

He thought it was my fault, obviously.

He pawed at my leg for a moment, and I held my breath. Was he going to tear a chunk out of my leg? What was this crazy cat about to do?

He put his weight on that leg, and then, miracle of all miracles, he put the other paw on me! I waited, breath shallow as he hitched the rest of his body up onto my lap, curled into a ball, and promptly closed his eyes. I could only sit there, stunned, because the cat had never wanted to be near me. Ever.

And now, he was curled in my lap to have a nap. He opened his eyes, purred up at me as if he’d never bitten my nose as I bent down to put his food in his bowl or swiped at my ankles as I walked by him. I wanted to pet him, to stroke his little furry white head, but I was afraid to. I didn’t want to scare him off or make him change his mind, so I sat there, for a very long time, in the same position with a cat on my lap.

I watched him and envied him. Whatever life he’d had before, his life now was a simple one. He didn’t have to try to make a baby to appease a condition in a will, he didn’t have a husband upset with him because he wanted to have a baby. He ate, he slept, he chased moths. Now, he also slept on humans, it would seem.

I relaxed a little and he meowed, but he didn’t move. He stretched a single paw out, claws unfurled as if to warn me, and went back to sleep. A little while later I moved, but he didn’t hop away, he stayed in place. I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and pulled it over us.

I felt the weight of Oscar on my stomach and it soothed me. He’d never wanted to do that, and even now with the blanket over his head, he snoozed away happily. Perhaps he knew I needed a friend desperately, because now it looked as if I didn’t even have Tiago to talk to anymore.

That was what hurt the most out of all of this, not that I was alone again, but that I’d failed Tiago. Or at least felt like it. He came home angry most of the time now, and that wasn’t how this was supposed to be. He should be happy to come home, proud to walk through that door.

Tiago and I hadn’t been together for years or anything. It’d been a short time, relatively speaking. But it felt like we’d been through so much together. Halloween where we dressed up as a couple and went down to the bar as a tavern maid and an old-time barkeeper was so fun, I’d smiled for days. Thanksgiving had been spent together, with Tim and his family over for dinner. Christmas was magical, he’d bought me everything he could and had filled the bottom of the tree, but it had been around the time we’d started to fight. The New Year he spent alone in the bar, I’d had the flu his staff had all caught around that time. Now, with Valentine’s day out of the way and our one-year anniversary approaching, I wasn’t sure what to do.

Maybe I should’ve just given up and admitted defeat? Was that the answer? I stared down at the blue lump that was the blanket over the cat.

One more try, one more date, to see how it went. Maybe that’s what we needed. Then, if the situation didn’t improve, I’d leave him so that he could find another wife and get her pregnant before his last year was up and he lost it all. I’d do it on our anniversary, I’d make a nice night of it for us, here at home. One last try before I threw in the towel. I couldn’t let him lose all of that money, now could I? I could be selfish and do my best to make him stay with me, but I’d never been that kind of person. He’d give me what I was owed, and we’d leave it at that. If things didn’t change that is.

For his sake, and mine, I hoped it all went well.

<><>

I wasn’t exactly open about my decision and spent the day of our final night together on tenterhooks. I’d taken the day off from the organization to prepare. It was stupid to test him, I know it was, but I had to. What I had planned wasn’t really a test of him anyway, it was a test of both of us.

I spent an hour in the tub, relaxing and soaking. And then, I did something I’d never done before.

I dyed my hair.

I don’t know what prompted it, but once I started, all I could feel was excitement to see how it turned out. I went with blonde—a new me. Another new me, really, since the me with Tiago was already new compared to the me from before. But blonde me was going to be another chapter as he and I put our pieces back together.

When it was done, and I stared into the bathroom mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself.

Va-va-voom, lady, I murmured to myself, grinning at my new reflection. I did my new blonde locks in a style that left it in curls down my back. I took my time with my makeup, and when I got done, it was even more a new staring back from the mirror. I thought back to the version of me Tiago had first known—shy, awkward, dressed in shapeless, lame clothes. And now, here I was—confident, and poised.

I dressed in a black jersey-knit dress. It was warm enough in the house that I didn’t need a sweater with it. Beneath it I’d put on a black corset with lace cutouts, black stockings with a silk garter belt, and a matching pair of black silk panties. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a temptress, one that I’ve never seen before.

I’ve seen myself frumpy, almost ugly sometimes, when I was depressed and just piled my hair on my head. I saw beauty on my wedding day, the flush of my cheeks and the hope in my eyes had complemented how lovely I was that day. My dress had also helped, because I’d felt beautiful, elegant even. Now, with the new blonde hair, wearing the low-cut top of the dress with a deep V between my breasts, and the way the shape hugged my figure down to a spot just above my knees, I felt powerful, sexy, and beautiful all at the same time.

I went downstairs, prepared his favorite dinner, a chicken with mustard sauce and pasta dish, and prepared the table with candles on it, over a red velvet tablecloth. I dimmed the lights down, lit candles, and put on a mix of his favorite music. That was all I could do for now.

Oscar walked by the table, eyeing up the wineglasses as if he’d found new toys to knock over, meowed, and then waltzed out of the room. He’d become a rather sweet kitty lately, but there was always a chance he’d revert back to the evil snot that used to torment me for shits and giggles. We’d come to a truce, I suppose, and that was nice, at least.

Tiago had said this morning that he’d be home by six, and I had dinner ready for him. I left it on the stove to stay warm. He wasn’t home by six-thirty, and he wasn’t home at eight either. I’d texted him but had no response from him. Maybe he was busy at work. I called there and the new guy, Chad answered. He hadn’t seen Tiago since he’d come on for his shift.

I went into the living room, put the blanket over my lap, and stroked Oscar when he jumped into my lap. I wasn’t aware that I did it, I just did. He didn’t mind for once and let me. For once brief second, a dark part of me wondered about Tiago being with another woman, but I quickly shook that thought away. No, it wasn’t that. I knew that deep down.

But he wasn’t at home, and that meant he didn’t want to be here with me. He might want my body still, but he no longer wanted to be around me. It was done. It was our anniversary and he wasn’t at home.

I think I had my answer.

Tears streaked down my face as I went into the bedroom and dug around in my closet. I found the keys to my old apartment, still in my name, and packed a bag. I sat down and wrote a note I’d actually written and rewritten thirty times in my head over the last month or so. And I hated writing every word.

I packed a bag and put Oscar in his crate. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t bite me this time.

I went out to my car and thought about the note I’d put on top of the anniversary gift I’d bought for Tiago. In the box was a puzzle, a small gift, but it was a puzzle made from our favorite wedding photo. The photographer had captured the look on Tiago’s face perfectly as he stared at me. I’d had my head turned so I could talk to Ella and Layla, but Tiago had looked at me with something like love and adoration. Surprise was mixed into that too. It was a beautiful picture and one we’d both cherished.

Had.

Everything seemed past tense now.

As I drove back to my side of the city, I brushed tears out of my eyes. I’d been so hopeful on the day we’d been married. God, I’d been so hopeful about everything, even knowing I was walking into a fake marriage with the man. But fake or not, he’d shown me passion, given me self-confidence, and had changed the world for me. I felt beautiful, and I’d never felt like that before he proposed.

Now, as it all crumbled around me, I wondered where it had all gone wrong. The rift between us wasn’t just because of my inability to get pregnant. No, he didn’t blame me, but he wouldn’t consider the IVF or the drugs that could be a miracle for us.

I couldn’t stay somewhere where I made the person with me miserable, so I’d left. He hadn’t even come home on our anniversary. Obviously, I’d either driven him into a place where he didn’t care, or he’d forgotten about—

When the headlights came screaming into the side of my car, the whole world went upside down. I remember screaming, and shattered glass flying everywhere, and then it went dark.

I didn’t know anything after that.

…Nothing at all.