Chapter 7: Shattered Frames

Derek got to the courthouse before I did. When I stepped out of the car, he was standing there, eyes half-shut, cigarette between his fingers, thumb rubbing his temple. He saw me looking and stubbed out the smoke.

"Let’s go."

The divorce went smoothly. When I got the papers in hand, I let out a long, shaky breath.

The judge barely glanced up from his coffee-stained paperwork, and the only sound was the hum of the ancient vending machine in the hall. I gripped the divorce papers like a ticket out of a burning building.

"What about your stuff at the house?"

"Toss it."

We turned and went our separate ways.

There was still work to do. I called a cleaning service to clear out all the men’s stuff, packed the rest for storage.

Halfway through, a teenage girl from the cleaning crew walked out of the study with a giant photo frame.

"Sis, what about this?"

Inside the cracked, web-like glass was a blown-up print of our marriage license photo—our heads pressed together, grinning like we’d just won the lottery.

This is what Derek and I hung above our bed instead of a wedding photo. We never had a real wedding or pictures—just quietly got our license behind everyone’s backs.

Why? His family didn’t approve. If we wanted to be together, it had to be a secret.

I didn’t mind. Derek did, for a long time. At first, he swore he’d make it up to me, that someday we’d announce it to the world. Later, he said it didn’t matter, as long as we were happy. Later still, he smashed the frame and said coldly, "I’m really glad I listened to my mom."

The glass shattered everywhere, and I just stared at the pieces, wondering when we’d started breaking, too.

"Throw out the frame. Shred the photo."

I sounded calm, but inside something snapped—a thread pulled too tight for too long.

Once everything was settled, a week later I boarded a plane out of the country. Changed my SIM card, told no one but Tanya.

The first few days overseas were chaos—finding an apartment, learning the roads, shopping, handling enrollment. The newness and the language made everything feel surreal. But soon, schoolwork swept it all away.

At night, video-calling Tanya, she said, "I ran into Derek today. He doesn’t know you went abroad, does he?"

"No."

"That explains it."

"Explains what?"

Tanya said someone at dinner asked about me, wondering why I hadn’t been around. Emily piped up right away: "Natalie Harper resigned. I’ll be taking over her work. If you need anything, call me."

Tanya never liked Emily. She said, "A little company like yours can’t keep someone like Natalie Harper. Of course she left for something better."

Derek sneered. "So she found a new job."

"No, she went abroad."

…

"You should’ve seen it—when Derek heard you left the country, he jumped up and spilled hot soup all over Emily’s leg. Emily screamed, but Derek just stared at me, face pale."

I chalked Tanya’s story up to gossip, didn’t think much of it.

Three days later, Tanya called, fuming.

"I’m gonna kill Derek. He’s at the company every day, blocking me, asking where you went. I asked why, but he wouldn’t say. He smells like smoke—it’s gross."

I paused. "If he’s bothering you, just tell him. You don’t have to cover for me."

"I wasn’t going to. I just don’t think he needs to know."

But Tanya was stubborn. "Nope. Why should I tell him? I won’t. Oh, by the way—your birthday’s in ten days. I’ll come celebrate with you."