Chapter 3 - The Departure
The day Thomas was scheduled to return, the air felt electric, humming with the static of an impending storm. According to the flight itinerary I had meticulously tracked, his return flight from Athens would land him at Heathrow at 11:00 AM, and his connecting flight would arrive home by 7:00 PM.
I had already coordinated with Lily’s school. I told them we had a family emergency and would be relocating. I had packed the essentials—our clothes, her favorite books, the photo albums, and the small, meaningful items that defined our home, not his.
By 2:00 PM, I picked up Lily from school early. She was surprised, but I told her we were going on a surprise adventure to see her aunt in Seattle—a trip we had been talking about for months. She was delighted.
We drove to the airport, leaving the house exactly as it was. I left his favorite sweater on the armchair and the mail on the counter. I wanted the house to feel like a trap, a place that breathed for a man who had forgotten that it only breathed because I was there to exhale for it.
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As the plane lifted off the tarmac, I watched the city shrink into a grid of tiny lights. I didn't look at my phone. I had turned it off, keeping a burner phone provided by Alannah’s office for any necessary communications.
Somewhere over the Atlantic, I closed my eyes and imagined Thomas walking into the house. I imagined the silence hitting him—not a peaceful silence, but the heavy, suffocating silence of an empty home where his own lies were the only thing left to greet him.
