Chapter 6 - The Storm of Calls
For the next week,
my phone was a battlefield of notifications.
I had unblocked them briefly just to see the desperation.
David sent fifty messages.
"Please come back."
"I'll talk to my mom."
"We can move out."
I didn't believe him for a second.
He had had every chance to speak up,
but he chose the rib over me.
Martha sent voice notes,
her voice oscillating between rage and pleading.
"You're a thief,
Emily!"
"Think about the family's reputation!"
"If you come back now,
I'll forgive you."
I laughed at that one.
She would forgive me?
I deleted the messages without replying.
Then came the relatives.
Aunt Carol called,
trying to be the peacemaker.
"Emily,
dear,
don't be hasty.
Marriage is about endurance."
I finally replied to her.
"Endurance is for marathons,
Aunt Carol.
Not for being a slave in my own home.
Enjoy the leftovers."
I blocked her too.
I was staying with Sarah in a bustling city three hours away.
I had already landed a job as a junior accountant at a firm.
It was a fresh start.
I spent my evenings in cafes,
reading books and drinking coffee that I didn't have to make.
I felt light.
I felt powerful.
But David wouldn't give up.
He showed up at my mother's house.
My mother called me,
whispering into the phone.
"He's here,
Emily.
He looks terrible.
He hasn't shaved,
and his clothes are wrinkled."
"Don't let him in,
Mom,"
I said firmly.
"I'm not his laundry service anymore."
David stayed on her porch for four hours.
He cried.
He yelled.
Eventually,
the neighbors called the police.
When he was escorted away,
he finally realized I wasn't coming back.
He sent one last email.
"I lost my job.
I couldn't focus.
My mom is blaming me for everything.
Are you happy now?"
I sat in my new apartment,
looking at the city lights.
I typed back:
"I am not responsible for your failure to be a man.
I am very happy."
I hit send and deactivated the email account.
The storm was moving away.
The air was clearing.
I looked at my hands.
The burns from the stove were healing.
The skin was becoming soft again.
I wasn't a cook.
I wasn't a maid.
May you like
I was a woman with a future.
And that future didn't include them.
