She tapped her phone’s screen, found Olivia’s number, and stared at it for a long moment before pressing call. Her heart thudded, heavy and uncertain. She hadn’t spoken to Olivia in months, not out of choice or neglect, but life. Distance. Schedules. And now this.
The phone rang twice before Olivia picked up.
"Natalie?"
Her voice was warm, surprised. Familiar. Natalie closed her eyes and let the sound settle around her.
"Hi, Liv," she said, and her voice cracked just enough to betray everything she was trying to hold back.
A beat of silence followed, but Olivia was quick. "Tell me what happened."
Natalie swallowed, pressing her fingers to her temple. "It’s Giles. He… he was unfaithful. I found out last night."
Another pause. Then Olivia said quietly, "I’m so sorry, Nat. God, I wish I were closer."
"Actually... that’s why I’m calling. I need to get out of here. Clear my head. I know it’s asking a lot, but... is there any chance I could come stay with you for a while?"
Olivia didn’t hesitate. "Of course you can. You don’t even have to ask. The guest cabin is yours. Hell, I’ll go put fresh sheets on the bed myself."
Natalie smiled, tears brimming now. The relief of knowing she had a place to land, somewhere quiet, somewhere safe, was overwhelming.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"When will you come?"
Natalie looked around the room. The house felt like a stranger to her now. "Today. If I can get everything packed."
"Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Be careful driving, okay? Text me when you’re on the road."
"I will. And Olivia... thank you. Really."
They ended the call, and Natalie stared at her phone for a long time. Still no word from Giles. No text. No voicemail. No apology. Not even a question to ask if she was alright.
The truth of that settled over her like winter, chilling and absolute. She had been shattered the night before, torn open, and the man she had shared a decade with hadn’t even bothered to reach out. He was done. And somewhere inside, she was starting to be done, too.
Natalie stood and moved through the house with new purpose. First, the garage below the house where she found what she needed then packed methodically. Her fingers wrapped around framed photos and gently laid them into the boxes they’d used when they moved in. Wedding pictures, travel snapshots, goofy polaroids from their first apartment. Every image told a story she wasn’t sure she believed anymore.
The home was beautiful. A clean-lined modern design softened with old-world touches. Muted colors on walls warmed by brass accents and natural wood furniture. A bay window in the living room filled the space with afternoon light, always her favorite place to curl up with a book. But now, the house felt like a showroom, all the warmth drained, all the softness gone. Every inch polished and tasteful and hollow.
Natalie wandered into the bedroom again, opened the closet. Her eyes scanned the neatly arranged rows of blouses and jackets, the familiar order suddenly annoying. She went into to smallest bedroom they used for storage and tugged a large suitcase and overnight bag from the back corner, returned to the bedroom and placed them on the bed.
Her fingers moved on autopilot, pulling clothes from hangers, tossing them into the bag with mechanical efficiency. Jeans, sweaters, her favorite boots. The green wool coat she always wore when she needed comfort. A knit hat from a trip to Vermont. To the smaller bag she added a few books, a travel mug, her charger. She moved like someone escaping a fire.
When the bag was zipped, she walked to the window and stared down at the street. It was quiet on their block. A jogger passed, earbuds in. A man walked his golden retriever. Life was still happening, oblivious to the tectonic shift in hers.
Natalie closed her eyes. She didn’t cry. She hadn’t cried yet. But something cracked inside her then, a tiny fissure. The realization that she had held on for too long, to a man who had let go long ago. She was leaving. She didn’t know for how long, or where exactly she would go. But she needed time to remember who she was before the silence. Before the empty dinners and cold sheets. Before she became someone who accepted so little. She needed to remember how to breathe.
By midday, she had nearly everything ready. Suitcases lined the entryway, taped boxes stood in neat stacks. Her favorite books were packed. The houseplants would go to her neighbor. She made lists, labeled containers, wiped down countertops. There was something comforting in the work, an element of the carnage she could control.
Around two, she called her cleaner.
"Hi, Della. I wanted to let you know I’m going away for a while. Giles might be around, but I’m maybe not."
"Oh, okay, Natalie…” Della sounded confused but remained tactful. “Do you want me to stick to my regular hours?"
"Yes, please, and if you get here and there’s nothing much to do I’ll still pay you, don’t worry about that. Just keep an eye on the place for me. I might need your help with a few things, butI’ll be in touch about that soon. I just wanted you to know I’d be away."
There was a brief pause, and Della said gently, "Natalie, is everything okay?"
