No More Coming Back, Ex-Husband

The ring hit the nightstand with a dull clink, spinning before settling into silence.

I waited for him to scream "Get out." I waited for him to throw my clothes onto the lawn. I was ready for it. I wanted it.

Instead, George laughed.

It was a low, dark sound that scraped against my nerves. He stepped closer, kicking the ring off the table. It skittered across the floor, lost in the shadows.

"Divorce?" he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "You think I would let you go that easily?"

I frowned, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Why not? You just said I’m useless. I can’t give you an heir. I’m damaged goods. Why would you want to keep me?"

"So you can run to him?" George sneered, his face twisting into a mask of ugly jealousy.

I blinked, the room spinning slightly. "Him? Who are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Eliza!" he roared, the smell of scotch on his breath making me gag. "Do you think I wouldn't find out? Do you think I’m that stupid?"

"I don't know what—"

"I know you cheated on me!"

The accusation hung in the air like a guillotine blade.

"Cheated?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "I never… I have never looked at another man since the day I met you."

"Liar!"

He marched to the dresser and snatched up a thick envelope. He threw it at me. It struck my chest, the corners sharp, before spilling its contents onto the bed.

Photographs. Grainy, blurry photos of me. Me having coffee. Me walking out of a building. And in every single one of them, a man was nearby. A tall, indistinct figure with his back turned or his face obscured by shadows.

I stared at the images, my mind racing.

"Who is he?" George demanded, looming over me. "Tell me his name!"

I picked up a photo, my hands shaking. "I… I don't know."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying!" I cried, looking closer at the stranger in the picture. "I’ve never seen this man in my life, George! He’s just… he’s just some random person walking by! I don't know who he is!"

"You expect me to believe that?" George scoffed. "You expect me to believe you don't know the man you were sleeping with? The man who fathered that bastard?"

"The baby?" My breath hitched. "Do you really expect me to believe that child wasn't yours?"

"Of course it wasn't mine!" George yelled. "If it weren't for Donna, I would be raising another man's mistake right now!"

"Donna?"

The name was a slap in the face.

"She saw the texts, Eliza. She saw the way you sneaked around. She hired the investigator because she couldn't stand seeing her sister make a fool of me."

"She’s lying!" I shouted, clutching the sheets. "There are no texts! There is no man! George, she’s manipulating you! She wants you for herself!"

"Shut up!"

He grabbed my face, his fingers digging into my jaw.

"You will not leave me," he hissed, his eyes dark voids. "You don't get to walk away to some secret lover. You don't get the easy way out. You’re going to stay right here in this house, and you’re going to suffer. You’re going to regret every single moment you betrayed me."

"George, please—"

"George!"

The bedroom door creaked open. Donna stood there, her hands clasped to her chest, her eyes wide with fake concern.

"George, stop!" she cried, rushing into the room. "You’re hurting her! She’s still recovering!"

She grabbed his arm, pulling him back slightly, but her eyes… her eyes were locked on mine, gleaming with triumph.

"Eliza, are you okay?" she cooed, reaching out to touch my shoulder. "I told George not to be so harsh… I just wanted the truth to come out, I didn't want—"

"Don't touch me!"

The rage inside me, hot and molten, finally erupted.

I didn't think. I didn't plan.

I shoved her.

I put all my weight, all my grief, all my hatred into my hands and pushed her hard.

"Ah!" Donna shrieked.

She stumbled back, her heels catching on the rug. She flailed dramatically, crashing into the vanity table. Perfume bottles and jewelry trays clattered to the floor with a deafening crash.

"Eliza!" George roared.

He rushed to Donna, helping her up as if she were made of glass.

"She attacked me!" Donna sobbed, burying her face in George’s shirt. "I was just trying to help! I was just trying to save your marriage!"

George looked up at me, his face contorted with pure fury.

"You are insane," he spat.

"She’s the insane one!" I yelled, pointing a shaking finger at my sister. "She faked those photos! She hired someone to stand near me! She’s been poisoning you against me for years!"

"Enough!" George bellowed.

He stood up, shielding Donna behind him.

"You want to act like an animal? Fine. I’ll treat you like one."

He walked to the door and ripped the key from the lock.

"You’re not leaving this room," he said coldly. "Not until I say so."

"George, no!"

He slammed the door in my face.

Click.

The lock turned.

I threw myself against the wood, pounding on it with my fists.

"Let me out! George! Open the door!"

Silence.

Then, from the other side, I heard Donna’s voice, low and sweet.

"Don't worry, darling. I'll take care of you. Let her rot in there."

Footsteps faded down the hall.

I slid down the door, burying my face in my hands. I was trapped. My baby was dead. My husband was a monster. And my sister was the devil. They had stripped me of everything—my child, my dignity, my freedom.

But as the tears fell, something else began to rise in the darkness of my heart.

If they wanted a villain, I would give them one.