Bruised and Broken, I Left with no Turning Back

Nathan blinked. The anger in his eyes faltered, replaced by a flicker of panic. He took a step back, his defensive posture crumbling into something that looked pathetically like guilt.

“What? No! Of course not!” he sputtered, running a hand through his hair. He let out a nervous, incredulous laugh. “God, Karylle, you’re twisting everything. I’m just… I’m protective, okay? I saw you with another man, and I got jealous. It’s because I love you.”

He reached out, his hands hovering near my shoulders before he pulled me into a hug. I stood rigid in his arms, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against my chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into my hair, his voice dropping to that soft, persuasive tone he used to get his way. “I’m just stressed. We both are. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Let’s forget about this,” he said, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Let’s focus on us. Let’s go prepare something for our baby. A memorial. Something beautiful. And then… when you’re ready… we can try again. We can build the family we always wanted.”

I looked at him, marveling at his audacity. But I was tired. My body ached, my heart was hollow, and I didn’t have the energy to fight him.

So, I forced the corners of my mouth up. It felt like cracking dried clay.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, Nathan.”

He exhaled, his whole body relaxing. He kissed my forehead. “That’s my girl. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I locked the door and slid down against it, burying my face in my knees.

The next morning, the sun streamed through the sheer curtains, mocking the gloom in my heart. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing, when my phone buzzed.

“It’s done,” my mother’s voice came through, crisp and efficient. “The immigration papers are processed. Your visa is approved. I pulled every string I had, Karylle. You have a flight booked to Zurich in three days.”

My heart skipped a beat. Three days.

“Zurich?” I breathed.

“It’s quiet. It’s far. And we have a chalet there no one knows about,” she said. “Are you sure about this? Once you leave, there’s no turning back.”

“I just want out. Thank you, Mother. I will leave as soon as possible.”

The door handle turned.

I froze, hanging up the phone.

“Who was that?” Nathan asked, setting the tray down on the bedside table. His voice was casual, but his eyes were alert. “And what did you mean, ‘I will leave’?”

He walked over to me, his expression darkening. “Are you leaving me, Karylle? Is that what this is? You’re planning something behind my back? Didn’t I say no divorce again? We’re—”

“No, silly,” I said, keeping my voice light. “I was talking to… a travel agent.”

“A travel agent?” He looked skeptical.

“Yes. I was thinking… after everything that’s happened… maybe we need a break. A vacation. Just the two of us. Like you said last night.” I squeezed his hand. “I was thinking we could go away. Somewhere romantic. Maybe Paris? Or Italy?”

The tension drained from his face instantly. A wide smile spread across his lips.

“Oh,” he exhaled, laughing a little. “Oh, thank God. You scared me for a second. I thought… never mind.” He kissed my knuckles. “That’s a wonderful idea, baby. Go on. Let’s leave whenever you want. Book it. Anywhere you want to go. I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Really?” I asked, widening my eyes.

“Really,” he promised. “Anything for you.”

For the next two days, I played the part of the recovering, hopeful wife perfectly. I talked about Italy. I looked at hotels with him. I let him hold my hand.

On the second night—my last night before the flight—Nathan surprised me.

“Get dressed,” he said, coming into the room with a velvet box in his hand. Inside was a diamond necklace. “I got us tickets to The Phantom of the Opera. I know it’s your favorite.”

I stared at the necklace. It was beautiful. Expensive. And it felt like a shackle.

“Thank you,” I said, letting him clasp it around my neck.

We went to the theater. We sat in a private box. The music swelled, the chandelier rose, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself get lost in the story. I remembered when we first saw this show, years ago. I had cried during the final scene, and Nathan had held my hand, wiping my tears.

I looked at him in the dim light. He was watching the stage, his profile sharp and handsome.

Do you love me? I had asked.

Of course I do, he had lied.

Halfway through the second act, during the masquerade scene, Nathan’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again. And again.

He frowned, pulling it out. The screen lit up, illuminating his face. I saw the name. Danica.

He read the message, and his jaw tightened. He glanced at me, then back at the phone. He started typing rapidly.

Then, another buzz.

He sighed, a heavy, irritated sound. He turned to me, putting on a regretful face.

“Karylle,” he whispered. “I… I have to go.”

“What?” I asked, though I wasn’t surprised. “Now? In the middle of the show?”

“It’s work,” he lied smoothly. “Emergency with the merger. The investors are freaking out. I have to go handle it.”

“Can’t it wait?” I asked, testing him. “It’s our date night. You promised.”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he said, standing up and grabbing his coat. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Stay and finish the show. I’ll send the driver back for you.”

He kissed my cheek—a quick, distracted peck—and hurried out of the box without looking back.

I watched the heavy velvet curtain swing shut behind him.

I turned back to the stage. The Phantom was singing about the music of the night, about darkness and despair.

I sat there alone in the private box, the diamond necklace feeling heavy and cold against my skin. The empty seat beside me was a perfect metaphor for my marriage.

I didn’t cry. I was done crying. I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone. I had one more call to make before I left for Zurich.

I dialed the number of the shark lawyer my mother had recommended.

“Hello?” a gruff voice answered.

“This is Karylle,” I said, my voice steady and clear over the soaring music of the orchestra. “I’m ready. Draft the divorce papers and send them to me tomorrow.”