Page 6 of The Vow Thief
This was the hardest moment of my life. Pain with no edges. Pain with no end in sight.
Matt eventually came out of the bathroom, eyes red, face pale. He spotted me in the living room, holding his clean shirt. For a moment, he only stood there, hollow and exhausted, then reached for it.
“I forgot you brought that down,” he said, voice hoarse.“Mine’s still a mess from the water guns.”
I hesitated, then pulled it back just slightly, my lips bending into the faintest, weary smile.“Sorry. I used it to wipe my face. My… tears are all over it.”
Matt glanced down at the damp, stained T-shirt he wore, then tugged it over his head in one rough motion. He let it drop onto the couch, the smell of smoke and marshmallow clinging to the fabric.
He took the shirt from me; his hand lingered on the fabric before he slipped it over his shoulders, as if he were putting on my grief, wearing it like a scarlet letter.
The quiet stretched, heavy and unsparing. Matt rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes shining again.“I think I’ll take the couch tonight. You should sleep upstairs.”
I nodded slowly.“That’s probably best.”
We stood there a moment longer, two people who wanted to reach across the space but couldn’t. Finally, I turned toward the stairs.“Goodnight, Matt.”
His reply came low, ragged.“Goodnight, Sarah.”
I climbed the steps, forcing my feet forward. In my room, I slipped beneath the covers, the house unnervingly quiet.
Here we were, in separate rooms, teary-eyed and restless, the echoes of our fight still pressing against the walls. Sleep came late, uneven, and unforgiving, carrying me into the next morning, where I woke empty. Why does emptiness feel so heavy?
Chapter 3 - Back to Reality
Morning sunlight warmed the wide wood-plank floor of the cabin’s kitchen. Sarah stood at the counter, pouring cereal into bowls, trying to focus on something ordinary. Matt moved beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers with every reach. Neither of them spoke.
The kids noticed.
Emily broke the silence first, her little voice soft but steady.“Mom, why did you and Daddy cry last night? Are you sad?”
Sarah’s hand stilled on the cereal box. Her heart lurched. Of course, this was coming. She and Matt had drawn up the papers, tucked the truth into manila envelopes like it could be contained there. But nothing about this could be contained, and now their five-year-old had cracked it wide open.
Matt glanced at her, his face pale, waiting.
Sarah’s mouth opened, but no sound came. The words shrank inside her. What was she supposed to say? That yes, Mommy was sad because Daddy had blown their life apart? That, yes, they had cried because the word divorce wasn’t just a whisper in their house anymore, it was ink on a page waiting to seal their fate as a family?
Before she could answer, Tommy leaned forward in his chair.“I know why.”
Both Sarah and Matt snapped their heads toward him.
Tommy frowned, serious in a way that made him look older than eight.“My friend Marcus said that when his parents cried a lot and stopped talking, it was because they were getting a divorce. Is that what you’re doing?”
He squinted, like he was working out a hard math problem.“You don’t even live in the same house anymore.”
Matt set his hand on the counter, knuckles grazing Sarah’s.“I should.”
Tommy pressed on.“Does this mean you and Mom don’t love each other anymore?”
The question landed between them, light as glass and just as easy to break.
Sarah’s grip tightened on the cereal box. Matt met her gaze, and in that silent exchange, they both knew the answer would matter for more than just today.
Matt crouched to their level.“Yes, I love your mom. And I love you two more than anything in the world.”
Tommy set his spoon down. His voice cracked, fear rushing into his face.“I don’t like it when you’re not home. It feels wrong, Dad.”
Sarah’s heart ached.“We need to get on the road.”
