We went to the theater. We sat in a private box. The music swelled, the chandelier rose, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself get lost in the story. I remembered when we first saw this show, years ago. I had cried during the final scene, and Nathan had held my hand, wiping my tears.
I looked at him in the dim light. He was watching the stage, his profile sharp and handsome.
Do you love me? I had asked.
Of course I do, he had lied.
Halfway through the second act, during the masquerade scene, Nathan’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again. And again.
He frowned, pulling it out. The screen lit up, illuminating his face. I saw the name. Danica.
He read the message, and his jaw tightened. He glanced at me, then back at the phone. He started typing rapidly.
Then, another buzz.
He sighed, a heavy, irritated sound. He turned to me, putting on a regretful face.
“Karylle,” he whispered. “I… I have to go.”
“What?” I asked, though I wasn’t surprised. “Now? In the middle of the show?”
“It’s work,” he lied smoothly. “Emergency with the merger. The investors are freaking out. I have to go handle it.”
“Can’t it wait?” I asked, testing him. “It’s our date night. You promised.”
“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he said, standing up and grabbing his coat. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Stay and finish the show. I’ll send the driver back for you.”
He kissed my cheek—a quick, distracted peck—and hurried out of the box without looking back.
I watched the heavy velvet curtain swing shut behind him.
I turned back to the stage. The Phantom was singing about the music of the night, about darkness and despair.
I sat there alone in the private box, the diamond necklace feeling heavy and cold against my skin. The empty seat beside me was a perfect metaphor for my marriage.
I didn’t cry. I was done crying. I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone. I had one more call to make before I left for Zurich.
I dialed the number of the shark lawyer my mother had recommended.
“Hello?” a gruff voice answered.
“This is Karylle,” I said, my voice steady and clear over the soaring music of the orchestra. “I’m ready. Draft the divorce papers and send them to me tomorrow.”
Before leaving, I had to attend the night of the merger celebration, otherwise, they’re going to think something was wrong. I had to pretend to be a good wife for the last time.