Page 43 of Broken Trails
After that, she never looked at me the same. Always with this quiet pity, like she was waiting for me to shatter over brunch. Like I was the sad story she told herself when her own marriage hit a rough patch. And I hated that most of all.
So why didn’t I leave?
Why stay?
Because back then, he was still manageable. Still charming when he wanted to be. Still smiling in public, still calling me sweetheart when it suited him. Infuriating, sure, but not dangerous. Not yet.
I told myself it was easier that way. That if I let the small things slide, we’d level out eventually. That I was keeping the peace, being… reasonable.
It was weak of me. I know that now. And I’ve never been a weak woman—not really. But I wasn’t ready to throw everything away. My life in Sydney. My friends. The comfort of it all. And it wasn’t his money funding that life—no, I built it. I earned thepromotions, the respect, the expensive apartment. I decorated it. I bought the Hermès throw cushions he used to brush crumbs off his jeans.
But things shifted the year after. Liam changed. Or maybe I did.
He became quicker to snap. Angrier. Every little thing was suddenly wrong—the toast too crisp, the towels folded “wrong,” me not satisfying him enough in bed. The air at home got heavier, thick with something that felt like it was always waiting to explode.
And me? I kept whispering the same line to myself like it was gospel.
Things will get better.
It’ll pass.
Just wait it out.
But it didn’t pass. It got worse. You’d think the final straw would’ve been the control, the aggression, the gaslighting, the years of quiet erosion that wore me down to nothing. But no. It wasn’t that. It was walking into our bedroom and finding him screwing someone else in our bed.
The bedIpaid for.
On Italian linen sheets I had sent from Florence because he’d said he liked the way they felt against his skin when we’d visited once. That was the moment. The switch.
People might wonder why it took something so blunt to make me leave. Why it wasn’t the years of emotional abuse, the slow bleed of who I used to be. Truth is, I’m not sure either. Maybe because seeing it—right there in front of me—was cleaner than trying to prove the bruises no one else could see.
The proof of his betrayal was easier to swallow than having to claw and fight my way out with nothing concrete to hold onto.
It was undeniable. Solid. It was the moment I could point to and say,This. This is why I left.
It was my ticket out. My one piece of leverage.
And I wasn’t going to waste it.
Instead of replying to his pathetic, half-baked threats, I screenshot them and fire them off to Jeff. Then I scroll to his name and press call.
“Oh, honey,” he drawls, skipping hello entirely. “If this is his idea of intimidation, I’ve had scarier messages from my barista when I forget to tip.”
I can’t help the faint smirk that tugs at my lips, though my voice is too flat to match his energy. “Yeah, well… figured he’d try something.”
A long, theatrical sigh drifts down the line. “Of course he did.” There’s a shuffle of paper in the background. “He’s so full of himself, Zoe. You’ve got everything we need. Throw in the infidelity, and it’s practically gift-wrapped. He’s just banking on you not knowing your rights.”
I stare up at the ceiling, tracing the faint cracks in the paint. “Right. And the apartment? Our assets?”
Jeff hesitates… long enough for me to notice. “That’s the trickier bit. His name’s on the mortgage, so there’ll be some wrangling. But I’m not worried, and you don’t need to be either. You’re not walking into this unarmed.”
My gaze drifts to the window, to where the kitten is curled up on the sill. She’s all tiny paws and slow, even breaths—all safe and warm-looking. I envy her.A cat. How pathetic. Because right now, I don’t feel armed. I don’t feel brave. I just feel… worn down. Hollowed out.
“Will I have to see him at any point?” The words scrape out like gravel.
“Only if something goes sideways,” Jeff says gently. “You won’t have to face him unless there’s a dispute we can’t close. Worst case, his lawyer pushes for a meeting, or it ends up in court.”
The thought of being in the same room as Liam again makes my stomach roll. Jeff must sense it, because his tone shifts into something calmer, anchored. “I’ll handle it, darling. You won’t be in this alone.”
