The Night Our Love Died

Christopher's Disdain

It was a photo.

Christopher's hand was wrapped around Rachel's as they sliced the cake open. His tenderness was something I'd never seen in our marriage.

Rachel's caption read, 'Justice runs late because it has a surprise for me: Christopher. I'm such a spoiled girl!'

Christopher bought out the time slots for all the screens in the city just to celebrate Rachel's victory in a rights to reputation case, or so that was how they called it. All I did was mention Rachel being the financial director for the project that ended up framing my father.

To defend her, Christopher mobilized his whole legal team and painted me as a deranged woman who loved to slander everyone around her.

I tapped the like button under the photo. Moments later, my phone exploded with messages from Christopher.

"I know that's sarcasm, Natalie! Go change and get here right now! If you're even one second late, I'm never taking that case, you hear me?'

Though separated by screens, I could imagine the disgust on Christopher's face, yet I didn't argue. 'Sure,' I texted back, but I approached the floor-standing aquarium and dropped my phone into the water.

The device sank and sank until it hit the bottom. Bubbles rose to the surface. The screen flickered once, twice, then went dark.

At last, silence.

I went into the bedroom and pulled out a red-and-blue woven bag from underneath the bed. That bag held the items I brought along after the wedding. Old, bleached T-shirts I got from a dollar store and a grayscale photo of my late father.

I carefully wrapped the photo with my clothes and cradled it in my arms.

This mansion was worth millions, yet only these were the things I could truly call mine. I changed into an old T-shirt with a stretched collar and a pair of jeans.

My reflection showed a pale woman with dark circles under her eyes, but her gaze had never looked clearer.

As I walked out of the mansion, the guard shot me a weird look. "Where are you going, ma'am?"

I ignored his question. With nothing but the clothes on my back and the woven bag, I walked into the heavy darkness of the night.

Christopher waited at the hotel, and the clock struck nine. The champagne tower was having its third refill.

Rachel had both hands looped around his arm as she complained softly, "Maybe she's angry, Christopher. Perhaps I should apologize too. I share some of the blame. I can understand why she misunderstood."

"You don't need to apologize to her," Christopher cut in, his expression icy. "She wanted you to apologize in public. She deserves a taste of her own medicine."

Yet I never came.

The obedient, submissive Natalie, who had always done as she was told, had stood him up.

This was a hit to Christopher's authority, and that was enough firewood for his fury. "Very well, then."

Christopher gritted his teeth and called me. "The number you have dialed is unavailable," a cold, mechanical voice replied.

Christopher let out a humorless laugh. 'She's going to use every trick under the sun just to make me bow, isn't she?'

In the end, he flung Rachel's hands away and stormed out of the venue.

"I'll need to see what she's up to this time."

What greeted him was a pitch-black mansion. Christopher turned on the lights, but the graveyard silence that lingered in the air made him panic, though only for a moment. Fury took over soon after.

"Get out here, Natalie!" There was no response.

Christopher charged into the bedroom, but not a single luxury item had gone missing. The closet was untouched, and so was the safe that housed the jewelry.

"I knew it. It's an act." Cold laughter slithered out of Christopher's lips. "Nothing's taken. That means she's crying in a convenience store."

Christopher came back down, and, from the corner of his eye, noticed something shining in the aquarium. He came closer only to find out it was my phone. At the same time, he received a transaction message from the bank.

"Your supplementary card ending in 8888 has been charged 1 dollar at Family Mart."

The message filled Christopher with so much disdain that it was oozing out of his eyes. "Is this your resolve? You left the house and used my card for instant ramen?"

Christopher tossed his phone onto the couch. He was confident my little escape act would never last the night.

The relentless ringing of the doorbell the next morning was what woke him. Still half-asleep, he called out without thinking.