Chapter 6: The Breaking Point

After that fight, Derek bought me diamond earrings and sent two thousand dollars to my parents in Ohio, in my name.

The earrings arrived in a velvet box, the receipt tucked inside. Two days later, my mom called, thrilled. The money hit their account just in time for Dad’s prescription refill. That was Derek’s way—apologies wrapped in ribbon, fixes made with his checkbook.

That was his style.

Whenever he said something he regretted, he made it up with gifts. It was easier than talking, for both of us.

"Aubrey, I know my mom can be tough sometimes, but I’m the one who’s here for you. Just be a little more patient for me, okay?"

He said it softly, tracing his thumb over my cheek. His voice was gentle, pleading. For a moment, I almost believed things would get better.

He kissed me, voice gentle.

His lips brushed my forehead, a fleeting warmth. I closed my eyes, letting myself believe in small kindnesses.

My mom called, barely hiding her excitement.

She gushed over the phone, already planning how to spend the money. I could hear Dad in the background, cracking a joke about finally getting the garage door fixed. For a few minutes, I let myself feel like a good daughter again.

"My daughter is so lucky! You make me proud. Hold onto this son-in-law. You’ve always been the good kid, not like your brother, so I’m not worried."

She always compared me to my brother, the family’s black sheep. I took her praise, even if it stung a little. For her, a husband who provided was the highest achievement.

When I played with Maddie downstairs, the other moms in the neighborhood gushed with envy.

At the playground, the other moms circled up, swapping stories about sleepless nights and picky eaters. They eyed my wedding ring and designer diaper bag, whispering about how lucky I was.

"Husband with a great job, in-laws helping out, a nanny—Aubrey, you’re living the dream for us stay-at-home moms."

Their words sounded sincere, but I heard the envy under the surface. I smiled and nodded, not bothering to correct them.

I started eating nonstop.

Stress made me hungry. I devoured bags of chips, slices of pie, whatever was in arm’s reach. Food filled the empty places, if only for a moment.

Sweet, salty, crunchy, soft—stuffing everything in, not because I was hungry, but just to fill the emptiness.

Late at night, I’d stand in the kitchen, spooning peanut butter straight from the jar, feeling the sticky sweetness coat my tongue. Each bite dulled the ache, just a little.

When I wore baggy sweats to nurse Maddie, my sister-in-law looked at me and said to her boyfriend on the phone, "I will never let myself go like that. I refuse to become a useless housewife."

She made sure to say it loud enough for me to hear, flipping her hair as if she were posing for a reality show. Her boyfriend laughed, not realizing the barbs she threw my way every chance she got.

I didn’t want to stay home, didn’t want to see the other moms, so I took Maddie to the mall for some air.

We wandered through the cool, echoing hallways, past the pretzel stand and carousel. The smell of Cinnabon and popcorn hung in the air. Maddie clapped at the flashing lights, and for a moment, I felt almost normal—just another mom killing time on a Saturday.

That’s where I ran into Derek and Rachel.

I spotted them before they saw me. They were surrounded by cameras and bright lights, the local news team setting up in front of the museum’s pop-up exhibit. My heart dropped into my shoes.

They were doing PR for the upcoming exhibit, being interviewed by the local news.

A reporter with perfect hair leaned in, microphone poised. Derek and Rachel sat side by side, their heads tilted together, sharing a laugh. I edged Maddie’s stroller closer, curiosity and dread warring inside me.

I pushed the stroller to the edge of the crowd.

I kept to the shadows, just close enough to see without being seen. Maddie craned her neck, eyeing the colorful banners strung across the rotunda.

Onstage, the two of them sat side by side, close together.

They looked comfortable, in sync. My husband and the woman everyone said was perfect for him. I gripped the stroller handle tighter.

Derek in a suit, looking sharp.

He wore the charcoal blazer I’d picked for his last birthday, his hair perfectly styled. He looked every bit the part—confident, polished, untouchable.

Rachel in a black off-the-shoulder dress, stunning.

Her dress shimmered under the lights, hugging her frame. She was magnetic, radiant. Even the cameraman looked a little starstruck.

"Tell us your most memorable moment. No holding back!"

The reporter grinned, eager for a juicy soundbite. The crowd leaned in, waiting for a story.

Rachel smiled.

She turned her head just so, letting her hair fall across her shoulders. She knew how to work a crowd.

"It was when I was photographing war orphans. I was deep in a conflict zone, and suddenly got a message from someone telling me to take care of myself. Because of those words, I avoided an air raid that day."

The room fell silent for a moment, the gravity of her words settling in. I saw the glint of admiration in Derek’s eyes, and my heart squeezed tight.

The crowd applauded.

People clapped, some wiping away tears. Rachel bowed her head, humility painted on her face. I stood frozen, trying not to let the jealousy show.

When it was Derek’s turn, he paused, then said quietly:

He glanced at Rachel, then at the audience. His voice softened, thoughtful.

"The day before my wedding."

The reporter laughed. "Were you nervous? Sounds like Director Thompson has a happy marriage!"

There was laughter, light and easy. The joke rolled off Derek’s shoulders, but Rachel’s smile faltered just a bit.

Everyone laughed along.

Even the museum curator chuckled, nodding in my direction when he caught my eye. I managed a weak smile.

But Rachel turned and stared at Derek, her chest rising, eyes flickering.

Her gaze lingered on Derek, intense and searching. She looked like she wanted to say something more, but bit her tongue. The tension was visible, even from across the room.

My eyes landed on her necklace—a brilliant diamond, the same style as the earrings Derek had given me.

My breath caught. The necklace gleamed under the lights, a twin to the earrings nestled in my jewelry box at home. I felt a cold trickle of dread slide down my spine.

I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I spun the stroller around and left.

I ducked out of the crowd, heart pounding. Maddie fussed, startled by the sudden movement. I mumbled an apology to her, my hands shaking as I pushed the stroller toward the exit.

The stroller stopped.

A pair of dress shoes blocked my path. I looked up, startled, meeting Noah’s eyes.

Noah blocked my way, tilting his head.

He wore a smug grin, arms folded across his chest. He always seemed to show up when I least wanted to see him.

"You’re here—why not say hi?"

His words dripped with faux concern. I forced a smile, trying to keep my cool.

I forced a smile. "Maddie needs her nap. Can you let me through, Noah?"

My voice was polite, but I made sure he saw the steel in my eyes. I wasn’t in the mood for his games.

He didn’t move, snorting.

He planted his feet, blocking the way, looking me up and down with open curiosity.

"Don’t tell me you’re upset seeing Derek and Rachel together. They do look good together. If you went up there now—"

He broke off, eyebrows raised as he finally noticed the tears streaming down my cheeks.

He stopped, surprised.

His bravado faltered. For once, he seemed genuinely taken aback.

"Why are you crying?"

His voice lost its edge, just for a second. I wiped my cheek, embarrassed.

"I… just let me through."

I pressed past him, swallowing the lump in my throat. My voice was small, but I made myself look him in the eye.

I wiped my eyes, head down, voice soft.

"Sorry, something got in my eye. Bye."

I steered Maddie around him, not waiting for his response. The automatic doors slid open, and I gulped in the cold air, letting it sting my face.

As I walked away, I could feel someone watching me.

I didn’t dare look back, but the weight of their gaze followed me all the way to the car. I buckled Maddie in, fingers trembling, wishing I could just drive away from it all.

Following me all the way out.

In the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of Rachel, standing by the museum entrance, her expression unreadable. For a moment, I wondered if she felt any of the same ache I did.