Fractured Vows

I was told I needed to be hospitalized for observation. Ethan Hayes, the neighbor who drove me, was a quiet pillar of support. He handled all the paperwork with calm efficiency.

“Elara, do you want to call your husband?” Ethan asked, his voice low.

My hand, holding a cup of water, paused. “There’s no need. I’m planning to file for divorce.”

Ethan let out a soft “Oh.” His expression became carefully neutral.

I felt a pang of regret for my bluntness. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have burdened you with that.”

Ethan just offered a small, reassuring smile. He waved it off. “Don’t worry about it.”

His simple decency made me think of Liam.

It had been a long time since Liam had shown me any genuine kindness. Our conversations were transactions. He was either impatient or his gaze was sharp with irritation. It felt like my every word was an accusation he had to defend against.

The buzz of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. It was a message from Liam. He had sent a photo of a cheap-looking silk scarf. [Got you an anniversary present. Happy now?]

I saw the brand’s logo. I immediately opened Instagram and went to Chloe’s profile. As I expected, her latest post showed off a brand-new Hermès bag.

The caption read: [Pregnancy nausea is real, but there’s nothing a new bag can’t cure! Thanks for the gift, L!]

I sneered. The scarf was a trivial accessory that came with the purchase of a luxury bag. It was probably too gaudy for Chloe’s minimalist aesthetic. So Liam passed it off to me. A trophy of his generosity.

I typed back: [I don’t need it. You can give it to Chloe. She can use it to polish her new bag.]

That reply triggered him. My phone rang instantly with his name flashing on the screen.

“Can you stop being so possessive and petty? Chloe and I have a soul connection, not whatever twisted narrative you’ve invented in your head!” he snapped.

“If I really had something going on with her, do you think you’d be the one with the Vanderbilt name, living this life?”

Living this life? The words made my head spin.

Liam and I started dating in my final year of law school. Chloe had just left for an art residency in Berlin. Back then, Liam’s startup was just a concept. I wasn’t “living” any special life. I was working sixty-hour weeks at a top law firm.

After we married, he launched his company. It looked glamorous on the tech blogs, but in reality, we lived on my salary. He was a constant storm of stress, fighting to cover the company’s burn rate.

Things only turned around two years ago, after his A-round funding. But by then, I was used to being frugal. I felt for his struggle, so I never spent carelessly. All while enduring his mother’s endless commentary about my failure to produce an heir.

How, exactly, had I been enjoying his success?

“Elara, you should eat something,” Ethan said, walking back into the room. He held a container of simple broth and crackers he’d gotten from the hospital cafeteria.

His voice carried through the phone’s speaker. There was a beat of stunned silence on Liam’s end. Then his fury erupted.

“Who the hell is with you? Elara, do you really think pulling some stunt like this will get a reaction out of me? Tell that man to get out of my damn house, right now! Don’t think I’ll tolerate some random guy hanging around!”

I couldn’t listen anymore. I told him I was in the hospital. I wasn’t feeling well. There was a brief pause, then a bitter, incredulous laugh.

“I see what this is. You’re so childish. Chloe announces she’s pregnant, so now you’re faking an illness to get my attention, is that it? Let me guess. You’re going to tell me you’re pregnant too? What a joke. I’ve never seen anything more pathetic. Or disgusting.”

I gripped my phone, my knuckles white. I told myself not to get angry. Not to let him win. More importantly, the baby couldn't handle the stress.

“Liam, I’m not trying to force you to come back. I hope you and Chloe are having a wonderful time. I have people looking after me here. And honestly, things are much calmer without you. It’s a lot easier.”

It was the first time I had ever hung up on him.

Almost immediately, a barrage of angry messages flooded my screen. Predictably, they were all about how unreasonable I was. How I was upsetting him for no reason. He warned me not to regret this. Not to come crawling back to him, crying for forgiveness.

I simply put my phone aside, picked up the crackers, and ate.

Two days later, the doctor said my condition had stabilized. I was cleared for discharge.

Ethan came to pick me up. I told him he didn’t have to, that I could call a car service. He just smiled and said it was no trouble. It was what neighbors were for.

His quiet kindness was a sharp pang. Liam rarely drove me anywhere. But if Chloe called, he would cross the city to pick her up, no matter the distance.

“You have a car, don’t you? Why don’t you just drive yourself?”

That was Liam’s response the last time I had asked him for a ride.

“Chloe doesn’t have a license. Of course I have to go get her. What if something happens to her in an Uber? Are you going to take responsibility for that?”

I had just opened the car door to get into the passenger seat when a strong hand yanked me back. Startled, I turned to see Liam standing behind me. His face was a mask of cold fury.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, confused.

I hadn’t heard from him in two days. Had he actually cared enough to come to the hospital the moment he got back?

Then, his eyes flicked over to Ethan, and his voice filled with venom.

“You’ve got some nerve! I came home and the whole kitchen smells like a dumpster! The food you left is rotting on the table! What is wrong with you? Other wives manage a career and a household. You can’t even have a child, and now you can’t even take care of the house?”

His accusations shattered the last fragile piece of hope I held.

I pulled my arm from his grip. My voice turned to ice. “I told you I was in the hospital, didn’t I? Yet you showed no concern for your sick wife—just complaints that I didn’t clean up after you?”

Liam looked me up and down, his eyes filled with suspicion. “You look perfectly fine to me. Stop the theatrics.”

The only reason I looked better was because Ethan had visited daily, bringing me simple, nourishing food to help me recover.

Hearing Liam’s comment, Ethan stepped out of the car, ready to speak. But I gave him a small shake of my head, a silent signal for him to go.

What I didn’t expect, though, was that Liam had no intention of taking me home to rest. Instead, he shoved me into his Tesla and drove us straight to a rooftop bar in downtown Seattle.