My Husband Chose His Mistress During the Hurricane

The morning after, I walked to the base administrative office before the sun cleared the horizon. My legs worked. My hands held the folder. My voice, when I spoke to the clerk behind the plexiglass, came out level.

"Petition for dissolution," I said. "I need to file it."

She took the folder without looking at my face. Typed something. Stamped the top page with a date and a reference number.

"Thirty-day mandatory review period," she said. "You'll receive notice by mail when the review is complete."

I nodded. Turned. Walked out into air that tasted like rain coming.

Thirty days.

I could survive thirty days.

I made it as far as the parking lot before my knees went soft. I sat on the curb with my back against the brick wall and pressed my thumb against my wrist. Counted. Breathed. Stood up again.

When I got home, Christopher's car was already in the driveway.

He was waiting in the kitchen. His face was stone. Esmeralda stood behind him with her arms crossed, her mouth a thin line.

"You filed it," he said.

I set my bag on the counter. "Yes."

"Withdraw it."

"No."

His jaw worked. He looked at Esmeralda. She gave a small nod, like she was granting permission.

He pulled something from his pocket. My base access card. He set it on the counter between us.

"This has been downgraded," he said. "Residential access only. Security concerns related to the audit."

I stared at the card. The little magnetic strip that used to open doors to the commissary, the clinic, the legal office.

"Security concerns," I repeated.

"Your phone and laptop are being held for review. Standard protocol."

My chest went tight. "You can't—"

"It's already done." He picked up the card and slid it back into his pocket. "You'll get them back when the review clears."

Esmeralda's voice came soft from behind him. "It's for the best, Juliet. You've been so stressed. Maybe some time at home will help you think clearly."

I looked at her. She looked back with those wide, concerned eyes.

I turned and walked to my room. Closed the door. Sat on the bed with my hands in my lap.

No phone. No laptop. No way off base without an access card that opened anything beyond the front door of this house.

I pulled out a piece of paper and started writing.

*To the Genetic Compatibility Program Audit Office:*

*My name is Juliet Hayes. My case file number is—*

I wrote it all. The timeline. The confiscated devices. The downgraded card. The locked bedroom door. I wrote it in careful block letters so no one could say they couldn't read my handwriting.

When I finished, I folded it into a tight square and slipped it into the lining of my coat, next to the charred piece of wood.

I couldn't send it yet. But I could carry it.

And I could wait.

---

The days bled together. I mapped the house in my head. Which windows faced the perimeter road. Which hours the security patrol changed shifts—zero-six-hundred and eighteen-hundred, like clockwork. I watched through the kitchen window as personnel moved past in their vehicles, and I memorized faces.

Christopher came and went on his schedule. Esmeralda stayed. She cooked meals I wasn't invited to. She rearranged the living room. She played music I could hear through the walls.

I stayed in my room and counted.

Twenty-three days until the review period ended.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-one.

On day eighteen, the weather reports changed. A hurricane. Category four. Projected to make landfall directly over the base. Evacuation orders went out for non-essential personnel.

I stood in the kitchen and listened to the radio. Mandatory evacuation by sixteen-hundred hours. Shelters opening inland. Routes marked.

Christopher didn't come home until the wind was already picking up. I heard his car. His boots. The door.

He went straight to Esmeralda's room.

I stepped into the hallway. Watched him help her pack a bag. Watched him carry it to the door. Watched him come back for a second one.

"What about me?" I said.

He stopped. Looked at me. Through me.

"Stay here," he said. "The house is reinforced. You'll be fine."

Esmeralda appeared beside him, her coat already on. She glanced at me, then away. "Christopher, we need to go. They're closing the routes."

He nodded. Picked up both bags. Walked to the door.

I followed. "Christopher. You can't leave me here."

He opened the door. Wind slammed into the house. Rain came sideways.

"You'll be fine," he said again.

He stepped outside. Esmeralda followed. The door swung shut.

I reached for the handle.

It didn't turn.

I pulled. Pushed. Rattled it hard enough that my palms went hot.

Locked. From the outside.

I stepped back. Looked at the door. At the windows. At the walls of the house that was supposed to keep me safe.

The lights flickered.

Outside, the wind screamed.

I pressed my thumb against my wrist and counted my pulse in the dark.