Chapter 3: Doors Closing

I hung up. Didn’t sleep a wink all night.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to distant sirens and a neighbor’s dog barking. The sun crept up over the skyline and my eyes still hadn’t closed.

With dark circles under my eyes, I arrived at the office. My mind was still blank when Madison came over, eager to gossip about last night.

Madison dropped her bag on my desk with a dramatic sigh, plopping down next to me like she owned the place.

"Dude, something totally went down with Mr. Reed and Morgan last night."

She waggled her eyebrows, voice low like she was letting me in on a secret. I frowned.

"This morning, Mr. Reed’s clothes were all wrinkled, and... he was still wearing yesterday’s outfit. That means he didn’t go home, right?"

She looked at me, waiting for a reaction. I nodded, too tired to play along.

"Morgan was late, too. And she came in glowing. Usually, she’s so put-together, but today, she looked like a whole new person."

"How so?" I asked.

She thought for a second. "Brighter, sexier, more delicate... just look."

I glanced up and saw Morgan walk in, rocking a tight, hip-hugging skirt—the one I’d picked out with Lucas on Michigan Avenue, the one I’d paid extra to have shipped as a surprise. I gripped the edge of my desk, blinking back tears as Morgan strutted past, her smile never wavering.

Morgan was in a great mood, buying everyone drinks. People crowded her desk, giggling over lattes. She looked right through me.

I sat in the corner, feeling hollow. I buried myself in spreadsheets, barely tasting my cold sandwich.

Morgan walked into Lucas’s office with bags of fancy food. Once she went in, she stayed all afternoon.

People whispered, shooting glances at the closed office door. It was obvious to everyone but Lucas.

When she finally came out, it was almost quitting time.

Madison clicked her tongue. "Morals are really declining. Why does Morgan have to go after a married man? Jess said Morgan jumped into Mr. Reed’s arms—almost turned the office into a hotel."

She sent me a photo Jess had snapped. I hesitated, then opened it. Morgan was sitting on Lucas’s lap, feeding him. The intimacy was unmistakable. My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to look.

"I wonder how Mr. Reed’s wife would feel if she saw this," Madison sighed.

She looked at me, searching for a reaction I refused to give.

Manager Carter, across from us, frowned. "It’s mutual affection. Why are you all gossiping?"

Carter was old-school, always siding with management.

Madison didn’t catch his tone and joked, "That’s right. She really is the other woman."

Carter was annoyed. He tossed a file at her. "If you’re so free, finish this. You can’t leave until it’s done."

Madison wilted, letting out a dramatic sigh. I messaged her: [Manager Carter and Morgan go way back—don’t say that again.]

She replied with a crying emoji.

I texted: [I’ll help you with the file. Let’s finish quick, and I’ll treat you to burgers.]

She perked up immediately.

That night, after we finished the overtime task, Manager Carter stopped us again.

"Thanks for your hard work. Let’s grab some dinner together."

His tone left no room for argument. We grabbed our coats and followed him to Lou Mitchell’s on Jackson, where the booths were red vinyl and the menu boasted deep-dish pizza. The fries were salty, the coffee burnt, but it felt good to be away from the office.

After eating, he led us to a karaoke bar. We didn’t want to go, but as interns, we didn’t have a choice. Sitting in a dark corner, we played Mario Kart on our phones, barely noticing the room fill up.

Until I heard a familiar voice.

My stomach clenched. Lucas was there, surrounded by industry bigwigs at the main table.

He looked relaxed, whiskey in hand, laughing at some off-color joke. It was like seeing a stranger in my husband’s skin.

At first, everyone talked business. Then the conversation turned personal—kids, wives, lovers.

I watched the ice melt in his glass as the talk got personal, a familiar ache growing in my chest.

"I saw Morgan’s Instagram—‘lovers finally become family.’ What’s up, Lucas, you finally made Morgan yours?"

The table turned to Lucas, grinning. I listened, heart in my throat.

Lucas replied, "You don’t know what happened. Morgan forced my hand—she threatened to quit if I didn’t want her. She’s been here for years, and honestly, we can’t do without her. You could say I can’t do without her."

He sounded almost proud, as if recounting a business win, not a betrayal.

"So Morgan’s willing to be your side chick? Lucas, don’t mess things up."

The men laughed, elbowing each other. I felt bile rise in my throat.

"You worked hard to marry that young girl. If your wife finds out, won’t she make a scene?"

Someone else: “Man, if my wife caught me, I’d be living in my truck. Lucas, you got guts.”

"Not necessarily. Morgan doesn’t mind, so why should the young wife?"

Another: “She’s just a college kid, right? Probably grateful for what she’s got.”

"After being pampered by Lucas for years, how could she go back to an ordinary life? Even if she finds out about the affairs, she won’t act out. At least she’s still Mrs. Reed—her life is secure. She’s somebody."

Their words felt like a slap. I was a trophy, not a person.

Everyone chimed in. The consensus was, as long as Lucas kept Morgan happy, the wife wouldn’t make a fuss.

They raised their glasses, congratulating Lucas on having it all. I felt invisible and exposed at the same time.

Even Madison wrinkled her nose and whispered, "Gross." Then, "Mr. Reed is a jerk, but they’re not wrong. That girl’s still in college, no connections, no skills—making a scene would only hurt her. What do you think...?"

She looked at me, voice soft. I nodded. "There won’t be a scene. People are civilized now."

I wanted to believe it—that I could be calm, measured, above it all.

At that moment, Lucas set down his glass and spoke.

He shrugged, as if ordering dessert instead of discussing our marriage. "Grace is good for nothing but being young. Compared to her, she’s not as sharp as Morgan. But with Morgan’s proud nature, who knows how long she’ll put up with this. I’m starting to regret getting married. How much does it cost to keep a young girl? Now, if I get divorced, the loss is too big."

His words didn’t hurt anymore. I just felt empty, watching the man I once loved turn into a stranger.

He was always practical—down to the last dollar. We were legally married. Divorce meant splitting assets, but I’d agreed to leave with nothing. Still, the price he’d pay—he’d have to carry that, too.

I decided then: I’d give him what he wanted.

When the crowd finally broke up, Morgan picked up the drunken Lucas. I watched from afar as they embraced, lips pressed together. Maybe they’d held back too long—once in the car, it started rocking up and down. City lights flickered in the windshield as the world blurred by. I felt strangely detached, like I was watching a movie I’d seen too many times.

I recorded everything, scrolling through the videos with a steady hand. Evidence—not that I needed it, but for my own peace of mind.

Then, I called my brother.

I hesitated at first, thumb hovering over his name. But the second I heard his voice, the tears came.

"Hey, kiddo, what are you up to? How come you have time to call me so late?"

His voice was warm, familiar. Suddenly I was eight again, remembering how he used to rescue me from bullies or bring me ice cream after a bad day. The tears wouldn’t stop.

"Hey, what’s wrong? Are you crying?"

He sounded alarmed. I choked, unable to speak.

All I could manage was a wet gasp, words tangled in my throat.

My brother immediately asked where I was. I managed to mumble an address.

He didn’t ask questions—just told me to stay put. Half an hour later, he was there.

He pulled up in his old black Chevy, headlights sweeping the curb. I was curled up on the steps, shivering.

He killed the engine, jumped out, and wrapped me in his coat. Then he sat quietly beside me, rubbing my back the way he used to when I scraped my knee as a kid.

"Where’s Lucas?"

I wiped my nose, voice small. "He cheated."

My brother froze, jaw clenched. "Where is he? I’ll kill him."

His fists balled, knuckles white. For a second, I almost believed he’d do it.

I grabbed his hand, shaking my head. "No need. That would just dirty your hands."

He let out a frustrated breath, stomping his foot on the sidewalk.

"Divorce?"

His voice softened. I nodded.

"Could it be a misunderstanding?"

I shook my head, unlocked my phone, and showed him the videos and photos I’d collected. He scrolled through them in silence. Even though I didn’t say much, my brother had already decided.

He immediately called his lawyer friend to draft my divorce agreement, then made calls to vendors connected to Lucas—telling them to hold contracts, pull discounts, and raise prices.

He didn’t hold back. His voice was cool, each order more decisive than the last. The power he wielded was quiet, but absolute.

After, he took my hand. "Come on, let’s go home."

I looked at the house across the street, porch light still burning. I shook my head, tears clinging to my lashes. "Before going home, I want to move out first."

He squeezed my hand, nodded. Without hesitation, he drove me to the house I’d shared with Lucas. The place was Lucas’s—there was nothing left for me.

As we pulled up, I stared at the chipped front door, the crooked welcome mat. I never thought, after three years, I’d leave like this.

My brother looked at me, eyes fierce. "If you want this house, I’ll get you the best lawyer to fight for it."

I shook my head, my voice steady for the first time all night. "No need, bro. Anything Lucas touched feels dirty now."

He nodded, understanding. We watched the city lights blink in the darkness, both knowing this was the end of something that never really was, and the start of something new.

I didn’t look back. Some doors, once closed, should stay that way.