Chapter 4: Ashes and Endings

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I left all the jewelry, clothes, and trinkets Marcus had given me in the room.

Not wanting to upset the new favorite, I burned my wedding dress outright.

The lace crumpled and blackened, the air filling with the bittersweet smell of burning silk. The backyard firepit glowed orange against the evening sky. I watched the lace and tulle curl up, smoke curling into the night air. Tanya stood beside me, silent but supportive, her hand resting gently on my shoulder.

Half a month later, after the staff in the shops had been replaced, I had nothing left tying me to the Ellison house.

Every corner, front and back, was cleared of my presence.

I rented a new apartment.

It was nothing fancy—a two-bedroom over a bakery on Main Street, the kind of place where you could hear the city buses at dawn and smell fresh bread in the hallway. I bought a new set of dishes, picked out soft curtains, and let myself start over.

On the day I moved out, Tanya cried until her face was soaked with tears.

She clung to me at the doorway, mascara streaking down her cheeks. "You sure you’re going to be okay?" she sniffled, handing me a casserole dish wrapped in foil. "You call me anytime. Don’t matter what hour."

"Why not give it another shot? I just can’t believe he’d let you go like this."

"I’m no longer Mrs. Ellison."

I corrected her gently.

My voice was steady, but it trembled just enough for Tanya to squeeze my hand one more time. We both knew the truth: sometimes, walking away is the only way to survive.

"It’s not convenient for me to take your contract directly. When he returns, I’ll come to fetch you."

I wiped away Tanya’s tears.

She tried to smile, but her lip quivered. "I’ll wait for your call, ma’am. Promise."

"Ma’am! Ma’am!"

The housekeeper came running, clutching a letter excitedly:

"Ma’am, Mr. Ellison… Mr. Ellison sent a letter by express courier, saying you must open it yourself!"

Tanya’s eyes lit up:

"It must be Mr. Ellison realizing his mistake and writing to apologize!"

"Ma’am, open it and see!"

I looked at the letter.

It was heavier than I expected, the envelope thick and formal. My hands shook a little as I held it, wondering if somehow, this was the apology or explanation I’d been hoping for.

Marcus hadn’t written to me in years.

Before our marriage, it was those letters that made me fall in love with him.

He used to write in blue ink, his penmanship slanted and hurried, full of half-finished thoughts and sweet nothings. Those letters had been my lifeline, back when love felt simple.

"Ma’am, hurry!" Tanya urged, unable to wait.

"Such a thick letter—he must really regret it!"

I pressed my palm down, and finally took the letter.

I opened it:

My fingers fumbled at the seal. Tanya and the housekeeper hovered behind me, eyes wide with hope.

"I’ve found Natalie. Will be back in town soon."

"Natalie’s lost weight. Prepare more gardenias. She likes your gardenia cakes."

"Natalie’s room can be arranged. She’s sensitive to the cold and likes sunlight."

"Natalie doesn’t like fancy fabrics, only silk. Sky blue, sage green, crimson, and deep purple suit her."

"Natalie’s jewelry needn’t be excessive. She is simple and favors elegance."

"Natalie…"

"Natalie…"

"Natalie…"

Page after page, all about Natalie.

The last line: "Natalie is lonely. Let the wedding prep be handled by you. Pay extra attention."

Eight years of knowing each other, three years as husband and wife.

The faint spark in my heart went out in that moment.

"These matters, I’m afraid, will trouble you."

I calmly handed the letter to the housekeeper.

Turned around.

Never looked back again.

I scanned the pages, searching for my own name, but it never came. Not once.

I walked out the door, my footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. The sun was setting behind the pines, casting long shadows across the porch. My suitcase wheels thumped over the porch boards, the sound echoing louder than I’d expected. I didn’t take anything with me—just the weight of the letter, heavy in my chest, and the knowledge that I’d finally reached the end.