“I’ll get you some water,” he muttered before turning and walking off.
I threw up until there was nothing left inside me, gripping the edge of the trash can for support.
When I finally stood up, I watched his retreating figure—his hurried steps, his obvious need to get away from me—and I laughed bitterly.
He used to be different.
One year, at a company New Year’s party, I got drunk. He stayed up all night taking care of me, cleaning up after me without a single complaint.
Back then, he cared. Back then, he loved me.
Now, he didn’t. And it couldn’t be more obvious.
I closed my eyes, willing those painful memories away.
From now on, no matter what Alfie did, it wouldn’t matter to me anymore.
I walked straight to my vanity and opened a small box. Inside were two small dolls, their fabric scorched and ruined by fire.
The night I saved him, these were in his hands. Even when he was on the verge of death, he smiled and said, “Love, these are the lucky dolls you painstakingly got two years ago. I found them again. One for you, one for me. That way, we’ll never be apart.”
Back then, those words moved me to tears.
Now, they were nothing but a cruel joke.
Clarissa's POV
I could no longer tell if Alfie loved me or not.
If he didn’t love me, why would he risk his life to retrieve those dolls for me? But if he did, why would he let Shirley walk all over me?
Outside, the sharp sound of shattering glass broke through the silence. Then came the muffled sounds of Shirley pulling him in again. Seeking excitement, she had no shame—they were getting intimate right outside the door.
Alfie’s voice was low, a weak attempt to stop her. “Don’t mess around. Clarissa is still inside.”
But any hesitation quickly melted under Shirley’s touch. A door clicked shut and he never came back.
I tossed the dolls into the trash.
That was it. That was me severing my marriage with my own hands.
That night, I didn't sleep.
By morning, I heard Alfie open the bedroom door. He must not have expected me to be awake because he hesitated for a second before scrambling for an excuse.
“I fell asleep watching TV in the living room,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t even realize it. You’re up early.”
I didn’t acknowledge his excuse. Instead, I asked, “Alfie, is it snowing outside?”