The woman he destroyed, The mystery he’ll never solve

Chapter 1

The photograph appeared on my phone while I was standing in the cereal aisle of North Carthage Market. A tag from someone I barely knew, a woman from the book club who probably thought she was being helpful.

The image loaded slowly and there he was. Caleb. My boyfriend of four years. His hand rested on Mila Rowe's lower back as they stood outside The Riverside Tavern, both of them laughing.

I set the cereal box back on the shelf and my hands were shaking. Around me the market hummed with its usual Tuesday rhythm but I felt like everyone was staring at me even though no one was.

The caption read: Spotted downtown! #CoupleGoals

I locked my phone and shoved it into my jacket pocket. I abandoned my shopping cart in the middle of the aisle and walked out. The atmosphere was cold.

I climbed into my car and sat there gripping the steering wheel. This wasn't the first photo. Six months ago, I saw them together at the farmer's market. Four months ago someone sent me a picture of them at the bookstore. Three weeks ago they were in the background of a student's selfie, Caleb's arm draped over her shoulders.

Each time I told myself it meant nothing. Just a colleague. Just a friend. Just a misunderstanding.

But I was tired of lying to myself.

I drove home and when I walked into our apartment, Caleb was sitting on the couch grading papers. He looked up when I came in.

"Hey babe," he said. His tone was careful. "How was your day?"

"Fine."

"I picked up Thai food. It's in the oven."

"Thanks."

I didn't ask where he'd been for lunch. I didn't ask why someone had tagged him at The Riverside Tavern with Mila Rowe. I didn't ask anything because asking would mean he'd have to lie to my face and I was tired of watching him do that.

I served myself Pad Thai I didn't want. Caleb went back to his grading. The TV murmured in the background. This was my relationship now. Polite. Functional. Empty.

Five years ago Caleb had promised me forever. Now he was giving forever to someone else in public where everyone could see.

I stood up and walked to the bedroom. I opened the closet and pulled out a leather journal I'd bought three months ago. I sat on the edge of the bed and opened to the first blank page.

My hand hesitated for just a moment before I started writing.

September 19th. He doesn't hide it anymore. Today I saw another photo. His hand was on her back. They looked happy. Everyone in town has seen them together. He came home tonight and acted like nothing was wrong. Kissed me on the forehead like we're still normal. But we're not normal. I think he wants me to leave so he doesn't have to be the bad guy. But I'm not leaving. Not the way he thinks.

I closed the journal and tucked it into the back of my nightstand drawer. Then I walked to the kitchen and opened the calendar on the fridge. Our four-year anniversary was circled in red marker. One week away.

One week. That was all the time I had left.

I pulled out my laptop and searched: Mexico travel restrictions lifted when.. The results loaded.

I have been offered a 5-year contract at a private university in Mexico as an associate lecturer. The travel ban would be lifted on September 26th. Exactly one week from today. That's why I had to wait. That's why I couldn't leave tomorrow, even though every part of me wanted to run.

Mexico didn't have an extradition treaty with the United States for certain cases. Once I crossed that border with my new identity, I'd be unreachable. Untraceable.

But I had to wait one more week.

I closed the laptop and stared at the calendar. Seven more days of pretending. Seven more days of this life.

Then I'd disappear and Caleb would spend the rest of his life wondering what happened.

Caleb came to bed after midnight. I was lying there with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling. He climbed in beside me and the mattress dipped under his weight.

"You still awake?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Long day?"

"Not really."

Silence. Then he reached for me. His hand slid across my waist and I went rigid.

"Come on, babe," he said. His voice had that edge to it. The one I'd learned to recognize. "Don't be like that."

"I'm tired, Caleb."

His grip tightened. "You're always tired lately."

"I said I'm tired."

"Yeah, well, maybe if you made more of an effort" He stopped himself. Took a breath. His hand moved away. "Forget it."

He rolled over with his back to me. Within minutes his breathing evened out into sleep.

I lay there in the dark and my whole body was tense. I thought about the bruise on my arm from two nights ago when he'd grabbed me too hard during an argument. I'd covered it with long sleeves. I thought about the way he'd shoved me against the kitchen counter last week when I'd asked him about a charge on our credit card.

"You're so fucking paranoid," he'd said. His face had been inches from mine. "You know that? You're exhausting."

Then he'd kissed my forehead and left for work like nothing had happened.

That's how it always went. A shove. A grab. An insult. Then flowers. Then apologies. Then silence. Then it would happen again.

But soon it wouldn't matter anymore.

In one week I'd be gone.