Late Blooms, Early Goodbyes

Madeline put on her coat and lay down on the lounge chair in the yard.

It was late autumn, and the days had grown noticeably colder. At night, the temperature dropped sharply.

Right then, a cold breeze cut through the still air. She curled in on herself and clutched the coat tighter.

Every time they fought, Tristan would punish her like this, pretending it was some lesson she needed to learn. In truth, it was just another way to humiliate her.

But now, Madeline felt nothing. A strange calm had taken hold. After all these years of holding on, what had it all been for?

In no time, sleep crept over her.

Just as she began to drift off, a pair of warm hands slipped under her coat. She jolted awake and locked eyes with Tristan, his gaze burning with desire.

His breath was warm against her cheek, yet nothing stirred inside her.

Once upon a time, Madeline would've leaned into him, eager to please, and agreed to do whatever he liked. But now, all she felt was revulsion. More than that, she recoiled from his touch.

Tristan noticed the shift and asked with a frown, "What's wrong?"

Madeline brushed his hand aside, her voice flat as she answered, "I don't feel well."

The sullen look on her face was enough to set him off.

"Are you still mad about Regina? I told you—we're just friends! Do you have to be this petty?" Tristan snapped.

Even so, Madeline couldn't be bothered to listen. She simply closed her eyes and shut him out completely.

Tristan hadn't expected her to give him an attitude. In an instant, his anger boiled over.

"You've got some nerve! Regina was right. I've spoiled you. You really think you can throw a tantrum like that now? Fine. Let's see if I ever touch you again!"

With that, he stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

Only then did Madeline open her eyes slowly. In the past, the mere hint of his displeasure would've had her apologizing and begging.

But now, she had already made her decision to walk away.

…

The next morning, Madeline didn't bother making breakfast for Tristan and Annabelle like she usually would. Instead, she grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge and drank it at her own pace.

She had signed the divorce papers, and all that was left was for them to be finalized. After that, she'd be free.

The thought brought a smile to her lips before she even realized it.

Madeline hadn't expected letting go to feel this good. It only made her past desperation seem even more ridiculous.

On Instagram, Regina had posted a five-minute video with a caption that read, "Whenever I need you, you're always the first one there. It's such a gift to be with someone you love."

In the video, Tristan was wearing an apron as he made breakfast. He smiled brightly, looking every bit like a stay-at-home husband.

Madeline had never seen that side of him before. He used to complain about the smell of the kitchen and had never once cooked a meal for her.

But now, he was in Regina's home, happily making her breakfast.

Madeline barely glanced at the video before tossing her phone onto the couch. She didn't care whether he had done it to provoke her, to punish her for turning him down the night before, or because he simply couldn't wait to be with his first love.

The divorce was already in motion, and if Tristan wanted to move things along, she wouldn't stand in his way.

At that moment, Annabelle came downstairs. She ignored Madeline and walked straight to the dining table.

When she didn't find the usual spread, she glared at Madeline and barked, "You didn't make breakfast? Go cook something. I'm starving!"

Madeline kept a straight face as she looked at Annabelle.

She understood everything clearly now. In her daughter's eyes, she meant nothing—not even as much as a maid.

The realization made her laugh bitterly inside. Her voice was detached as she said, "There are apples and bread."

Annabelle froze momentarily. She had never seen Madeline like this. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes, but it vanished just as fast.

A sly smirk played on her lips. She was already plotting some kind of payback.

"This is your job! All you do is sit around all day. If it weren't for Daddy, you'd be out on the street. Go make breakfast, or I'm telling him you're slacking off!" Annabelle snapped.

Madeline stared at her for a beat. She had no intention of wasting her breath, so she retorted, "Go find Regina. Isn't she the one you want to call Mommy anyway?"

Having said that, she turned and headed into the bedroom.

There, Madeline opened the closet. Inside were all the clothes Tristan had ever bought her.

To be exact, they were from the early years of their marriage. In recent years, he hadn't given her anything. He even kept a tight grip on his income.

On the other hand, Madeline received just enough to buy groceries. Anytime she needed something else, she had to ask Tristan. And every time, he'd accuse her of being wasteful.

It all seemed like a joke now. He could spend thousands of dollars on gifts for Regina, but when Madeline asked for a couple of hundred bucks to replace a broken oven, she was called materialistic.

Expressionless, Madeline gathered the clothes and stuffed them into a large garbage bag. She then carried it downstairs, ready to throw it all away.

As soon as she stepped outside, she bumped into Tristan. He had just gotten home, and in his hands was a bouquet of daisies.

Still, Madeline didn't so much as glance at him. She walked right past and dumped the bag into the trash can.

The garbage bag was clear. Tristan could see exactly what was inside and recognized the clothes immediately.

Annoyed, he stormed over. "What do you mean by that? Those were gifts I gave you! How dare you throw them out?

"And for the record, I only went to Regina's last night because she had a fever. Can you not—"

"The clothes don't fit anymore," Madeline interrupted, not bothering to let him finish. "I haven't been able to wear them for a long time."

She spoke with an indifferent expression and a far-off gaze.

Without warning, a subtle sense of unease crept into Tristan's chest.