• November 6, 2015; • Sunday
I applied red lipstick while brushing my curly, dark hair away from my freshly applied mascara. I rose up, looking down at my perfectly filed nails and checking the maids uneasily shuffling in the corner of the room.
My feet shine against the carpet as I exhale. As the maids and butlers came around me, I picked up the black luggage and pulled it behind me. The wheels and my heels, like the scattered shoes, echoed along the corridor.
When I saw a familiar portrait, I came to a halt and bit my bottom lips.
In the photo, we were standing next to one another, but there was a space between us. I was dressed in a huge white gown, one I'd always dreamed of wearing on my wedding day. He was the most gorgeous man in whatever room we were in, dressed in an immaculate black suit. My lips were smiling, but his were frowning.
I laugh and lift the frame. He made it clear that he didn't want to marry me.
That night, he didn't even touch me.
As I continued heading towards the front door, my hold on the white frame of what was meant to be the happiest day of my life tightened.
I was done.
I was done with everything.
The enormous empty mansion
The workers' sorrowful, miserable expressions
the sleepless nights.
The silent cries
I was done with him.
My soon-to-be ex-husband
When I walk into the enormous kitchen, the cooks stop what they're doing and stare at me. I threw the photo into the trash can while standing in front of it.
One of the chefs approaches me and says, "Madame."
I stop him from speaking more by waving my hand in the air. He lowered his head and took a step back as I wiped the tears from my bright cheeks.
I took another deep breath and shuffled through my suitcase, pulling out a sheet of paper, which caused everyone to gasp.
Sandy, the head maid, approached me, her sweaty hands clenched tightly together. "Please, Mrs.Thompson," she pleaded.
I shook my head and slapped the sheet of paper down on the counter. I bite my cheeks as my fingers grab for the diamond ring. I twisted the ring around and placed it on top of the divorce papers while swallowing my spit.
"Tell him to sign it and don't worry about it." I'm not taking any money." I took my luggage.
My legs, and everyone else's, come to a halt. Then something happened. My gaze was drawn to the wall clock.
I move my gaze to the front door.
I take hold of the gold handle.
"Please, Mrs. Thompson!" Mr. Thompson will return shortly! I swear!"
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I gently swayed her hands away.
I turn the knob.
Sandy kept crying while the other maids tried to console her, her sorrowful eyes looking everywhere but at me.
I took a step outside, carrying whatever I had with me a year ago.
The sun burned my swollen eyes.
I look for his car.
The clock struck twelve o'clock.
The clock had struck twelve.
Our one-year contract had come to an end.
He didn't show up, and I left without saying goodbye.