When I finally went home, the house was empty—no sign of Gilbert. A small part of me was relieved; I didn’t know what I might do if I saw him then. Maybe I would have lashed out, screamed, or hit him. But that wasn’t what I needed right now. What I needed was to leave.
I packed my luggage, ready to walk away from this life, from him. But just as I was about to step out, Gilbert walked in. He had Lucy in his arms, her foot wrapped in a bandage, leaning on him like she belonged there. My hands tightened around the handle of my suitcase.
Seeing the packed bags, Gilbert frowned as if my departure was the most inconvenient thing to him at that moment. "Lily, what are you trying to do?"
Make trouble. That's how he saw it. Everything I did, every emotion I expressed, was always labeled as "making trouble." He never cared to ask why, never bothered to understand. He just assumed, judged and scolded.
Before I could answer, Lucy—smug and proud—covered her mouth in a mockery of sympathy. "Lily, I’m so sorry. I injured my foot a few days ago and Gilbert was worried about me, so he’s been taking care of me. You don’t mind, do you?"
Her voice dripped with arrogance, knowing full well that even if I did mind, it wouldn’t change anything. Gilbert would never care about how I felt. Whether I was happy or not had never mattered to him.
I looked at her, then at Gilbert and for the first time in years, I felt nothing but an empty calm. "No, I don’t mind," I said quietly. "In fact, I won’t mind in the future either."
Gilbert’s eyes widened in disbelief. He seemed genuinely stunned by my response. He had grown so used to me loving him unconditionally, no matter how many times he hurt me. He couldn’t fathom that I could now be indifferent.
"Lily, what do you mean?" he asked, his voice uncertain for the first time.
I met his eyes, my voice steady, "Gilbert, let's get a divorce." There was no anger left in me, no sadness—only a quiet finality.
The pain of losing my son was unbearable and with his departure, my love for Gilbert vanished completely. I stood there, numb and hollow, watching the man who was supposed to be by our side, now acting like nothing was wrong.
Gilbert's expression hardened. His voice was cold and detached as he said, "Lily, can you be more sensible? We can go to the zoo anytime, but Lucy was injured. I couldn’t just ignore her."