The kitchen was empty. Not just empty of food, but empty of warmth, of life, of the woman who had filled it for 8 years. Derek stood in the doorway, his mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled from water, while behind him, 20 of his relatives crowded into the hallway, their excited chatter dying down as they peered over his shoulders into the barren space.

“Where’s the food?” his uncle Bernard asked, his jovial voice booming through the silence. “You said your wife was making that pot roast I love.”

Dererick’s face had gone gray. The dining table, which should have been groaning under the weight of his birthday feast, held only a single envelope with his name written in Simone’s neat handwriting. His younger sister pushed past him, grabbed the envelope, and tore it open before he could stop her.

“Dear Derek,” she read aloud, her voice growing quieter with each word. “As you requested 3 months ago, I am eating my own food. I hope you enjoy your birthday with your family. The keys are on the counter. Best wishes, Simone.”

“What does that mean?” his mother demanded, her eyes sharp as broken glass. “Derek, what did you say to your wife?”

But Dererick couldn’t speak. He was staring at the kitchen counter where a set of keys lay next to a simple gold wedding band, both catching the afternoon light streaming through the window. The window that Simone had always kept spotless. The window she’d insisted on having when they bought this house because she loved how the sun hit the kitchen in the afternoons. The window she would never look through again.

3 months earlier, everything had been different. Or rather, Dererick thought everything had been different. In reality, the cracks had been forming for far longer, invisible fault lines running through the foundation of their marriage.

Simone had been in this same kitchen, preparing Dererick’s lunch for work the way she did every morning. She’d been doing it for 8 years, ever since they married right after she graduated from college. She’d put her own career ambitions on hold, taking part-time jobs here and there, always arranging her schedule around his needs.

Dererick worked as a sales manager at an electronics company, and his schedule was demanding, or so he always said.

“Morning,” Dererick had said that morning 3 months ago, barely looking up from his phone as he walked into the kitchen. He was already dressed in one of his expensive suits, the one Simone carefully dry cleaned and pressed for him.

“Good morning, honey,” Simone replied, smiling as she packed his lunch into the insulated bag he preferred. Turkey sandwich, apple slices, the granola bars he liked. “I’m making pot roast tonight. Your favorite.”

Derek finally looked up from his phone, and something in his expression made Simone’s hand still. His face was hard, almost cruel, in a way she’d never seen before.

“About that,” he said slowly. “We need to talk.”

Simone set down the knife she’d been using to cut the apple. Her heart was beating faster, though she didn’t know why.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been thinking.” Dererick leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. “You’re almost 30 now, Simone. Don’t you think it’s time you stood on your own two feet?”

The words hit her like cold water.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve been supporting us, supporting you for 8 years. I work hard every day while you take these little part-time jobs that barely pay anything. I pay the mortgage, the car payments, all the bills.” He shook his head. “I’m tired of it.”

Simone felt something crack inside her chest.

“Derek, I’ve been supporting your career. You asked me to be flexible, to be available when you needed me to entertain clients, to host your work parties, to—”

“I didn’t ask you to be lazy,” Dererick interrupted, his voice sharp. “From this day forward, Simone, you eat your own food. You pay your own way. I’m done carrying you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Simone stared at her husband, this man she’d loved since she was 21, this man she’d built her entire adult life around, and she didn’t recognize him.

“Is there someone else?”

The question came out before she could stop it.

Dererick’s eyes flickered just for a second, but it was enough.

“Don’t be dramatic. This is about you growing up.”

He grabbed his lunch bag, the one she’d lovingly packed, and walked out. The front door slammed and Simone stood alone in the kitchen, her hands shaking.

She didn’t cry. That was the strange part. She thought she would cry, but instead she felt something else rising inside her, something cold and clear and calculating.

Simone walked slowly to the living room and picked up Dererick’s laptop, the one he always left on the coffee table. She knew his password. He’d never changed it because he’d never thought she would look.

It took her less than 5 minutes to find the text messages. Derek wasn’t even smart enough to hide them properly. They were right there in his email synced from his phone. Messages to someone named Candace from his office.

Can’t wait to see you tonight, baby. My wife won’t suspect anything. She’s too busy playing housewife. You’re so much more exciting than her. So independent, so ambitious.

There were dozens of them going back 6 months. 6 months of lies. 6 months of him coming home late, smelling like perfume that wasn’t hers, telling her he was working overtime.

Simone closed the laptop carefully. She walked back into the kitchen and looked around at the life she’d built, the curtains she’d chosen, the dishes she’d picked out, the spice rack she’d organized, and she made a decision.

She wasn’t going to scream. She wasn’t going to confront him. She wasn’t going to beg or cry or try to win him back. She was going to disappear. But first, she was going to plan. She was going to be smart. She was going to make sure that when she left, she left on her terms with her dignity intact and her future secure.

Simone pulled out her phone and opened her laptop, her own laptop that Dererick had bought her two Christmases ago and then mocked her for barely using. She updated her resume for the first time in years.

By the time Dererick came home that night, wreaking of that same cheap floral perfume, Simone had applied to 15 jobs. She greeted him with a smile.

“How was work, honey?” she asked.

Dererick looked at her suspiciously, as if waiting for an accusation that never came.

“Fine, long day.”

“I made pot roast,” Simone said pleasantly. “Your favorite.”

She watched him eat the dinner she’d prepared, watched him scroll through his phone with a little smile on his face, probably texting Candace. She watched and she planned.

The next morning, Dererick came into the kitchen and found Simone already dressed, her hair neat, her expression calm.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she told him. “You’re right. I need to be more independent.”

Dererick looked surprised, then pleased.

“Good. It’s about time.”

“I’m going to start looking for full-time work. Really commit to it.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Dererick grabbed his coffee, the one she’d made for him. Soon, she thought, she wouldn’t be making his coffee anymore. The thought made her smile.

“What are you smiling about?” Dererick asked.

“Just happy you believe in me?” Simone lied smoothly.

Over the next week, she kept up the act. She told Dererick about job applications, about interviews. He barely listened, too distracted by his phone, by Candace, by his own arrogance.

What Dererick didn’t know was that Simone had already received three call backs. What he didn’t know was that she’d opened a new bank account at a different bank, one he knew nothing about. What he didn’t know was that she was carefully documenting every penny in their joint account, every bill, every expense.

What Dererick didn’t know was going to destroy him.

By the end of that first week, Simone had a job interview at a tech company downtown. They were looking for a financial analyst, and even though she’d been out of the workforce in any serious capacity, her degree was strong, and her references from her old part-time positions were glowing.

She went to the interview in a suit she bought on clearance, careful not to use the joint credit card. She sat across from the hiring manager, a sharp-eyed woman named Patricia, and she answered every question with a confidence she’d forgotten she possessed.

“Why do you want this position?” Patricia asked.

Simone thought about Derek, about Candace, about 8 years of making herself smaller.

“Because I’m ready to build something of my own,” she said.

Patricia smiled.

“When can you start?”

Now, three months later, Dererick stood in his empty kitchen on his birthday, surrounded by confused and angry relatives, finally understanding what Simone had built. Her freedom.

The text message that confirmed everything had come on a Tuesday. Simone had been folding laundry in the bedroom when Dererick’s phone, left charging on the nightstand, lit up with a notification.

She shouldn’t have looked. A month ago, she wouldn’t have looked, but that was before Dererick’s declaration, before she’d started seeing their marriage with new eyes.

The preview on the lock screen was enough.

Last night was amazing. When can I see you again?

Simone had sat down on the edge of the bed, Dererick’s phone in her hand, her own heart surprisingly steady. She’d suspected, of course, but suspicion and confirmation were two different things. This was real. This was happening.

She could have confronted him right then. She could have screamed, thrown things, demanded answers. Instead, she carefully placed his phone back exactly where it had been and finished folding the laundry.

That evening, when Dererick came home, she greeted him the same as always.

“How was your day?” she asked, setting dinner on the table.

“Exhausting,” Dererick said, not meeting her eyes. “Big project at work. Might have to work late tomorrow, too.”

“Of course,” Simone said pleasantly. “You work so hard.”

She watched him eat, watched him check his phone repeatedly, watched the little smile that played at his lips when he read his messages. Each smile was another nail in the coffin of their marriage, but Simone’s face remained calm.

After dinner, while Dererick showered, Simone sat at her laptop and checked her email. The tech company, Data Stream Solutions, had sent her an official offer letter. The salary made her breath catch. It was more than she’d made at any of her part-time jobs. It was enough to live on, to save, to build a new life.

Her finger hovered over the accept button. This was it. This was the point of no return.

She clicked accept.

The next morning, Dererick was in an especially good mood. He was humming in the shower, taking extra time with his appearance. Simone knew why. He had plans with Candace.

“You seem happy,” she commented as he came into the kitchen.

“Just a good day ahead,” Dererick said vaguely. “By the way, I’ll be late tonight. That project I mentioned.”

“No problem,” Simone said. “I actually have something tonight, too.”

Dererick looked up sharply.

“What?”

“Just meeting an old friend from college?” Simone lied smoothly. “We haven’t caught up in forever.”

She could see the calculation in Dererick’s eyes, the suspicion, and oddly the possessiveness. He wanted to be free to cheat, but the idea of her having her own plan seemed to bother him.

“Which friend?” he asked.

“Rachel. You don’t know her. She moved away after graduation.”

Dererick relaxed slightly. A woman friend. Not a threat.

“Fine, don’t wait up for me.”

“I won’t.”

After Dererick left, Simone allowed herself a moment to breathe. Then she got to work. She had her first day at Data Stream Solutions today, and it was remote work, something Dererick didn’t know and didn’t need to know.

She set up her laptop in the spare bedroom that Dererick used for storage. Behind boxes of his old college textbooks and sporting equipment he never used, she created a small workspace. Her new employee credentials had arrived via email along with instructions for logging into the company’s systems.

At 9:00 a.m. sharp, Simone logged in for her first day. Patricia, her new manager, appeared on the video call with a warm smile.

“Welcome to the team, Simone. Ready for your first day?”

“Absolutely,” Simone said and meant it.

The work was challenging but engaging. Financial analysis, market research, creating reports for clients. It used the skills from her degree that had been gathering dust for 8 years, skills Derrick had dismissed as worthless because they didn’t serve his immediate needs.

She worked through lunch, barely noticing the time. When 3 p.m. rolled around, she realized she felt something she hadn’t felt in years. Purpose.

At 5:00 p.m., she logged off and quickly put away her work setup. She made dinner the way Dererick expected, and when he came home at almost 10 p.m. wreaking of perfume and lies, she smiled and asked how his project went.

“Complicated,” Dererick said shortly. “I’m tired. Going to bed.”

He didn’t ask about her friend. He didn’t ask about her day. He barely looked at her.

Perfect.

This became the new routine. Dererick would leave for work, often staying out late with Candace. Simone would work her remote job, accomplishing more in 8 hours than she’d ever imagined possible. She was good at this work. Patricia had already praised her analysis on a client portfolio.

“You’re a natural at this,” Patricia had said during their second week check-in. “Have you considered that you might be management material?”

Management material. Simone, who Dererick said was lazy, who Dererick said was dragging him down.

Two weeks into her new job, Simone received her first paycheck. She deposited it into her secret account and watched the numbers with quiet satisfaction. It was hers. She’d earned it. Nobody could take it from her.

But Dererick’s behavior was getting worse. He was bolder now, more careless. He stopped bothering to wash off Candace’s perfume. He’d come home and immediately shower, leaving his shirt in the bathroom hamper, covered in makeup stains and that sickly sweet floral scent.

One evening, about 3 weeks after she’d started her job, Dererick came home and announced,

“I’m going out with the guys this weekend, poker night.”

Simone was at the stove stirring pasta sauce.

“Okay, have fun.”

Derek seemed annoyed by her easy acceptance.

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind? You work hard. You deserve time with your friends.”

He studied her suspiciously.

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m being supportive,” Simone corrected. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Dererick grunted and walked away. Simone knew there was no poker night. She’d seen the messages. Candace had rented a cabin for the weekend. They were going together.

That weekend, while Dererick was gone, Simone went to the bank. She asked to speak with a financial adviser about separating from joint accounts. The adviser, a middle-aged man named Robert, listened carefully to her situation.

“You want to remove yourself from all joint accounts?” he confirmed.

“Yes. And I want to understand exactly what I’m responsible for and what I’m not.”

Robert pulled up their accounts on his computer.

“You’re both on the checking account, the savings account, and three credit cards. The mortgage and car payments come from the checking account.”

“If I remove myself from the checking account, am I still responsible for the mortgage?”

“Not unless your name is on the mortgage itself. Is it?”

Simone thought back to when they bought the house 5 years ago. Dererick had been so proud, so insistent on handling everything.

“I don’t think so. Derek handled all the paperwork.”

Robert did some checking.

“No, the mortgage is only in his name. Same with both car loans.”

Simone felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

“So if I remove myself from the joint accounts, I’m only removing access to money, not removing responsibility for debts.”

“Correct. The credit cards would be trickier, but the mortgage and cars are his alone.”

“Then I want to remove myself from the checking and savings accounts, not the credit cards yet, just the accounts.”

Robert helped her fill out the paperwork.

“This will take a few days to process. Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

When Dererick came home from his poker weekend on Sunday evening, Simone was in the kitchen as usual. She looked at him, at his relaxed expression, at the hickey he tried to hide with his collar.

“How was poker?” she asked.

“Great. Won 200 bucks.”

“Wire.”

“That’s wonderful, honey.”

She served him dinner and watched him eat. In 3 days, her name would be removed from their joint accounts. He wouldn’t notice. Not right away. He never checked the account details, too confident that everything would always be there, always the same.

But Simone was changing everything slowly, carefully, invisibly. She was building escape routes, gathering resources, preparing for the day when she would walk out of this house and never look back.

That night, she lay in bed next to Derek and listened to him snore. She thought about Candace, about the cabin, about all the lies. She thought about the old Simone, the one who would have cried herself to sleep.

But that Simone was gone. In her place was someone harder, smarter, more determined. Someone who had spent three weeks working at a job her husband knew nothing about. Someone who had just removed herself from joint financial accounts without his knowledge. Someone who was done being Dererick’s doormat.

The real revenge hadn’t even started yet.

The official conversation happened on a Saturday morning, exactly 1 month after Dererick’s first declaration. Simone was in the kitchen as always, but this time she wasn’t cooking for Derek. She was making herself breakfast, a vegetable omelette with toast, and she was eating it slowly, savoring each bite.

Derek came downstairs in his pajamas, looking at her with confusion.

“You didn’t make coffee.”

“I made enough for myself,” Simone said pleasantly. “There’s more in the pot if you want some.”

Dererick’s face darkened. He’d been expecting her to break, to beg, to try to win him back. Instead, she was eating an omelette and reading something on her phone.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Okay.”

Simone set down her phone and gave him her full attention. Her calm was clearly unsettling him.

“I’ve been thinking about what I said last month about you being independent.”

“Yes.”

“I meant it. Simone, I’m serious about this. I think we need to separate our finances completely.” Derek crossed his arms trying to look authoritative. “You need to get a job, a real job, and start paying your share of everything.”

Simone took a sip of her coffee.

“What exactly do you consider my share?”

“Half, half of everything. Groceries, utilities, your car payment.”

“My car is paid off,” Simone pointed out. “We paid it off two years ago. Your car still has payments.”

Derek waved this away.

“Whatever. The point is you need to contribute. I’m not your ATM anymore.”

“I understand,” Simone’s voice was perfectly level. “So, you want me to pay for my own food, my own expenses, and half of the shared bills?”

“Exactly,” and you’ll pay for your own food, your own expenses, and half of the shared bills.

Derek nodded.

“That’s fair.”

“It is fair,” Simone agreed. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Dererick looked surprised. He’d been gearing up for a fight, for tears, for resistance.

“You’re agreeing?”

“Of course. You’re absolutely right. I should be more independent.”

Simone smiled at him, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve actually already started looking seriously for work. I have some promising leads.”

This was technically true. She’d been working for 3 weeks, but Dererick didn’t need to know that.

“Good,” Dererick said, though he seemed uncertain. “That’s good. Is there anything else?”

“I—” Derek floundered. “Oh, I guess not.”

“Then I’m going out today. I have some errands to run.”

Simone finished her breakfast, washed her single plate and mug, and went upstairs to change. She could feel Dererick watching her, confused by her easy acceptance of his terms. He’d wanted her to fight. He’d wanted her to be difficult so he could feel justified in his treatment of her, in his affair with Candace. Instead, she was being reasonable, agreeable, independent. It was driving him crazy.

Simone’s errands that day were productive. She went to a storage facility and rented a small unit. Then, she went to a secondhand shop and bought some boxes. She had started the process of extracting herself from this marriage, but she needed to be careful, methodical.

That evening, she began sorting through her belongings, clothes, books, personal items, things that were hers alone. She packed them carefully in boxes and labeled them with innocuous descriptions like winter clothes or old textbooks. Derrick wouldn’t question boxes in the spare room. He barely went in there anymore.

Over the next two weeks, Simone made several trips to the storage unit. Each time she took another box, another piece of herself out of the house she’d shared with Derek. She was careful to leave enough behind that the house still looked normal, lived in. But slowly, surely she was removing any trace of her future from this place.

Her job at Data Stream Solutions was going well. She’d completed her first major project, a comprehensive financial analysis for a client looking to expand into new markets. Patricia had called her into a video meeting to discuss it.

“This is excellent work, Simone,” Patricia said, her face warm with approval on the screen. “The client was incredibly impressed. They’ve asked for you specifically on their next project.”

“Thank you,” Simone said, feeling a rush of pride. “I really enjoyed working on it.”

“You have a real talent for seeing patterns and data. Have you ever considered specializing in predictive analytics?”

“I haven’t, but I’d be interested in learning more.”

Patricia leaned forward.

“There’s a training program starting next month. It’s intensive, but it leads to a significant pay increase. I’d like to nominate you for it.”

A pay increase, more money for her secret account, more security for her future.

“I’d be honored,” Simone said.

That evening, she came home to find Derek already there, which was unusual. He was in the living room staring at his laptop with a frown.

“Everything okay?” Simone asked.

“The checking account is low,” Derek said. “Did you take money out?”

Simone’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral.

“No, my name isn’t even on that account anymore.”

Dererick’s head snapped up.

“What?”

“I removed myself from our joint accounts last week,” Simone said calmly. “You said you wanted us to be financially independent. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“You can’t just remove yourself without telling me.”

“The bank said I could. They’re my accounts, too, or they were. I had every right to remove my name.”

Dererick stood up, his face flushed with anger.

“This is ridiculous. You’re being petty.”

“I’m being independent,” Simone corrected. “Isn’t that what you wanted? If you’re short on money, maybe you should look at where you’ve been spending it.”

The implication hung in the air.

Dererick’s face went from red to pale. Did she know about Candace? About the expensive dinners, the gifts, the hotel rooms?

“I don’t know what you’re suggesting,” Dererick said carefully.

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just saying that if the account is low, you should check your statements. That’s basic financial responsibility.”

Simone walked past him into the kitchen. Her hands were shaking slightly, but she didn’t let him see. This was the first real confrontation, the first crack in her careful facade.

Behind her, she heard Dererick slam his laptop shut and storm upstairs.

That night, they didn’t speak. Dererick stayed in the guest room, claiming he needed to work late on his laptop. Simone knew he was probably texting Candace, complaining about his unreasonable wife, who had dared to separate their finances.

Let him complain. Simone was busy calculating.

Her next paycheck would come in three days. She’d been working for 5 weeks now, and with her standard pay plus the bonus for the client project, she’d have almost $6,000 in her private account.

$6,000. It wasn’t enough to live on forever, but it was enough to start over, enough for first and last month’s rent on an apartment, enough for deposits on utilities, enough for freedom.

She opened her laptop and started browsing apartment listings. She needed something affordable but nice, somewhere Dererick would never think to look for her. She found a one-bedroom in a quiet neighborhood across town, recently renovated with good light and hardwood floors. The rent was within her budget, especially with the raise coming from the training program.

Simone bookmarked the listing and closed her laptop with a small smile. Everything was falling into place.

By week seven, Simone had perfected the art of invisibility. Every morning, she woke up before Derek. She made breakfast for herself, something simple and efficient. She’d stopped making his coffee, stopped packing his lunches, stopped performing the small acts of service that had defined their marriage.

Dererick complained at first, but Simone had simply reminded him of their agreement. Independence meant taking care of yourself.

Dererick would leave for work, and Simone would wait exactly 15 minutes before setting up her workspace in the spare room. She’d moved some of Dererick’s old boxes around to create a small corner desk area, hidden behind his golf clubs that he never used and boxes of his old baseball card collection. If he ever came in here, which he didn’t, it would just look like she’d reorganized his storage.

Her work at Data Stream Solutions consumed her mornings and early afternoons. She was excelling at it in ways that surprised even her. The predictive analytics training program had started, and she was top of her virtual class. Patricia had mentioned something about a team lead position opening up in a few months.

“You’d be perfect for it,” Patricia had said during their weekly check-in. “You’re a natural leader, Simone. The way you’ve been mentoring the new hires, helping them understand the systems. It doesn’t go unnoticed.”

Simone had felt a warmth spread through her chest. When was the last time someone had praised her work ethic, her intelligence, her leadership? Not Derek. Never Derek.

In the afternoons after work, Simone would erase all evidence of her professional life. Laptop hidden, workspace dismantled, back to being the wife that Dererick expected to find when he came home. Except now she made dinner only for herself, ate it while reading or watching what she wanted on TV, and didn’t wait up for him when he claimed to be working late. The double life was exhausting but exhilarating.

One evening in her eighth week of working, Dererick came home earlier than usual. Simone had just finished putting away her work laptop, but her notebook was still on the kitchen counter where she’d been reviewing some project notes.

“What’s that?” Dererick asked, pointing at the notebook.

“Just some planning,” Simone said vaguely, sliding it into her bag.

“Shopping lists? Budget stuff?”

“Budget stuff?” Dererick laughed. “You worried about money now? Should have thought about that before you removed yourself from the accounts.”

Simone bit back her response. The checking account that Dererick relied on was getting lower every week because he kept spending money on Candace. She checked the statements before removing her name. Expensive restaurants she’d never been to, boutique purchases, even a weekend at a bed and breakfast, all on their joint credit card that he’d insisted they keep combined for emergencies.

Some emergency. His mistress wanted new jewelry.

“I’m managing fine,” Simone said instead. “Are you?”

Dererick’s expression darkened.

“I’m doing great. Work is going really well, actually. I might be up for a promotion.”

This was news.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Regional manager position. It would mean more money, better benefits.”

Derek looked at her with something like challenge in his eyes.

“Maybe even a company car.”

“That’s great,” Simone said neutrally. She wondered if Candace knew about this promotion. She probably did. She probably helped him practice his presentation or whatever he needed to do to get it.

“It would mean more nights away,” Derek continued. “Travel, client dinners. You’d be okay with that, right? Since you’re so independent now.”

Translation: He wanted permission to spend even more time with Candace without guilt.

“I’ll be fine,” Simone assured him. “You should focus on your career.”

Dererick looked almost disappointed. Did he want her to be jealous? To fight for his attention? Too late for that.

That weekend, Dererick announced he’d be gone for three days for a work conference. Simone knew it was another lie. The real conference wasn’t for another month. She knew because she’d seen the email about it on his laptop weeks ago.

“Have a good trip,” she told him as he packed his bag.

“You going to be okay here alone?” Dererick asked.

“I’ll be more than okay.”

And she was. The moment Dererick’s car pulled out of the driveway, Simone felt like she could breathe.

She spent the entire weekend apartment hunting, actually visiting properties in person. The one bedroom she bookmarked online was even better than the photos, bright, clean, with a small balcony overlooking a treeline street.

“Are you looking for immediate occupancy?” the landlord asked. He was an older man named Mr. Harrison with kind eyes and a no-nonsense attitude.

“Potentially within the next month or two,” Simone said carefully.

Mr. Harrison studied her.

“Running from something?”

The question was direct but not unkind. Simone decided to be honest.

“Running towards something. My independence.”

Mr. Harrison nodded.

“I have three daughters. Two of them had to do the same thing at some point. Left bad situations, started over.”

He handed her an application.

“You fill this out, show me proof of employment and income, and we’ll get you in here. I don’t need a song and dance. I just need to know you can pay rent and won’t cause trouble.”

“I can do both of those things,” Simone promised.

She filled out the application right there using her work email and her new bank account information. She left out any mention of Derek, any connection to her current address. This was her fresh start, and Dererick had no place in it.

By Sunday evening, Mr. Harrison had called her back.

“You’re approved. First and last month’s rent, plus security deposit. When do you want to move in?”

Simone thought about Dererick’s birthday coming up in 3 weeks. She thought about the celebration he’d been planning, the one he’d mentioned where his entire family would come over, the one where he’d told her with that entitled smirk that she’d need to cook for everyone.

“Can I move in 3 weeks from today?” Simone asked.

“You can move in whenever you want. The place is empty.”

“3 weeks it is.”

Simone signed the lease electronically that night, sitting in her quiet house while Dererick was off with Candace pretending to be at a conference. She transferred the money from her account, watching her careful savings take a hit, but knowing it was the best investment she’d ever make. She was officially getting out.

Monday came and Dererick returned from his conference, looking relaxed and happy. Simone greeted him the same as always.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Productive. Lots of networking.”

Derek was practically glowing.

“I think I really impressed the regional director.”

“That’s wonderful,” Simone said, and she meant it. The more distracted Dererick was by his work and his mistress, the easier it would be for her to execute her plan.

Over the next 2 weeks, Simone began systematically moving things to her storage unit. She was careful about it, taking only things Dererick wouldn’t notice, her winter clothes since it was summer, her college textbooks, her favorite books from the shelves replaced with Dererick’s books moved forward to fill the space, the good towels replaced with the old ones, her grandmother’s quilt replaced with a cheap throw blanket from the closet. She moved her life out piece by piece, and Dererick noticed nothing. He was too busy planning his birthday party.

“My whole family is coming,” he announced one evening. “My parents, my sisters, my uncle Bernard and Aunt Patricia, probably 20 people total.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Simone said.

“Yeah, it’ll be great. Big celebration.”

Derek looked at her expectantly.

“You’ll make your pot roast, right? The one everyone loves. And your mac and cheese and those rolls.”

“We’ll see,” Simone said vaguely.

“What do you mean we’ll see? It’s my birthday.”

“I know. I’m just not sure about my schedule that day.”

Dererick’s face flushed.

“Your schedule? What schedule? You’re home all day.”

Simone just smiled.

“Things change.”

She could see Dererick getting angry, but he controlled himself. He’d been trying to be less overtly cruel lately, probably because Candace had told him he needed to be strategic about the eventual divorce. Simone had seen those messages, too. Candace was already planning their future together, convinced that Dererick would leave his wife soon.

Let them plan. Simone had her own plans.

The week before Dererick’s birthday, Simone finished moving everything she cared about out of the house. The storage unit was full. Her new apartment was ready. Her job was secure, and she just received another glowing performance review along with a substantial raise. Everything was in place.

On Thursday, 3 days before Dererick’s birthday, Simone went to a lawyer’s office during her lunch break. She’d found one who specialized in simple divorces, and she brought all her documentation, the separate bank accounts, the proof that Dererick’s name was the only one on the mortgage and car payments, the photographs she’d taken of his text messages with Candace.

“This should be straightforward,” the lawyer said. “No kids, assets are mostly separate, and you have evidence of adultery. You won’t owe him anything. The house is his problem.”

“Good,” Simone said. “When do you want to file?”

“Monday. I want to file the Monday after this weekend.”

The lawyer made a note.

“Any particular reason for the timing?”

Simone smiled.

“Let’s just say I want to give someone a birthday present they’ll never forget.”

The real revelation came on Friday, 2 days before Dererick’s birthday party. Simone had finished her workday and was packing up her laptop when her phone rang. It was a number she didn’t recognize, but the area code was local.

“Hello.”

“Hi. Is this Simone? Simone married to Derek?”

The voice was female, young, tentative. Simone’s stomach tightened.

“Who is this?”

“My name is Lauren. I work at Derek’s company in accounting.” There was a pause. “I think you should know something.”

Simone’s mind raced. Another affair.

“Okay.”

“I handle expense reports. Dererick’s been submitting a lot of them lately, and I noticed something weird. He’s been charging personal expenses to the company card and then reimbursing them through the joint checking account.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Restaurants, hotels, gifts. He charges them as business expenses, gets reimbursed by the company, but then the money comes from the checking account that I’m guessing you both share.”

“Shared.”

Simone felt cold.

“How much money are we talking about?”

“Over the last 6 months, about $15,000.”

15,000. No wonder the checking account was always low. Derek wasn’t just spending their money on Candace. He was running a reimbursement scheme, essentially stealing from both the company and their joint funds.

“Why are you telling me this?” Simone asked.

Lauren’s voice was quiet.

“Because I saw you at the company picnic last year. You seemed nice and I heard Derek talking to Candace about how you were dead weight, how you never contributed anything, but the whole time he’s been stealing from you.” She paused. “I’m supposed to report this to management, but I wanted to give you a heads up first.”

“When are you reporting it?”

“Monday morning. I have to. It’s fraud.”

Monday. Dererick’s birthday was Sunday. By Monday, Derek would be fired and probably facing criminal charges.

“Thank you for telling me,” Simone said quietly.

“I’m sorry. I know this must be awful.”

After hanging up, Simone sat in the spare room for a long time, staring at nothing.

“$15,000.” 6 months of Derek funding his affair, not just with their joint money, but by committing actual fraud.

She thought about confronting him. She thought about revenge, but then she realized this was better than anything she could have planned.

Dererick was going to destroy himself. All she had to do was disappear before the fallout hit.

That evening, Dererick came home in a great mood.

“Tomorrow’s going to be busy,” he said. “Got to pick up some stuff for the party on Sunday. You got the shopping done for the food?”

“Not yet,” Simone said.

Dererick’s mood soured.

“Simone, the party is in 2 days. You need to get the food.”

“You’re right. I’ll handle it tomorrow.”

She wouldn’t, of course. She’d be moving into her new apartment tomorrow while Dererick was out picking up decorations and paper plates for a party that would never happen.

Saturday morning, Derek left early.

“I’ll be out most of the day,” he said. “See you tonight.”

“See you,” Simone replied.

The moment his car disappeared down the street, Simone sprang into action. She’d already rented a moving truck parked two blocks away. She’d already packed everything that mattered. Now it was just a matter of loading and leaving.

It took 3 hours to move everything from the house and storage unit to her new apartment. The furniture was mostly Dererick’s anyway, things he’d owned before they married or things his parents had given them. Simone took only what was truly hers, her clothes, her books, her laptop, her grandmother’s quilt, some dishes and kitchen items that had been gifts from her family. She left the house looking lived in but emptier. Someone paying close attention would notice the gaps, but Dererick never paid close attention to anything except himself.

Her last act was in the kitchen. She wrote a simple note and left it on the dining table along with her keys and her wedding ring. The ring sat there catching the light, a circle of gold that had once meant everything and now meant nothing.

From this day forward, you eat your own food. I hope you enjoy your birthday with your family. Best wishes, Simone.

She thought about writing something more, about telling him she knew about Candace, about the fraud, about everything. But in the end, simple was better. Let him wonder. Let him panic.

Simone took one last look at the house that had been her prison for 8 years. Then she walked out, locked the door behind her, and drove to her new apartment, her new life.

The apartment looked beautiful in the afternoon light. Mr. Harrison had left a welcome basket with some basic supplies and a note.

Congratulations on your fresh start.

Simone unpacked slowly, savoring each moment. She hung her clothes in a closet that was hers alone. She arranged her books on shelves. She made her bed with her grandmother’s quilt. She put her few dishes in the kitchen cabinets.

It wasn’t much, but it was hers. Every single thing in this space was hers.

That evening, she ordered pizza and ate it on her new couch, watching whatever she wanted on TV. Her phone stayed silent. Dererick probably wasn’t home yet. He was probably still out shopping for a party that would never happen, still planning his big celebration, still completely unaware that his world was about to implode.

Simone slept better that night than she had in months.

Sunday morning, Dererick’s birthday. Simone woke up in her new apartment and made herself breakfast, scrambled eggs, toast, coffee. Simple, perfect, peaceful.

Her phone started ringing around 10:00 a.m. Derek. She didn’t answer. It rang again and again. Text messages started coming through.

Where are you, Simone? This isn’t funny. My family is coming in 3 hours. Answer your phone.

Simone turned off her phone and went about her day. She went grocery shopping for her new apartment. She bought plants for her balcony. She stopped at a bookstore and bought three novels she’d been wanting to read. She checked her work email and saw a message from Patricia.

Hope you’re enjoying your weekend. Quick heads up, the team lead position is officially opening next week. You should apply. You’re exactly what we need.

Team lead. More money, more responsibility, more proof that she was capable and valuable and worthy.

Around 2 p.m., Simone’s curiosity got the better of her. She turned her phone back on. 37 missed calls, 52 text messages, three voicemails.

She listened to the voicemails.

The first was Derek, angry.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to get home now. My family is here and there’s no food.”

The second was Dererick, panicked.

“Simone, please. Everyone is asking where you are. What am I supposed to tell them?”

The third was Dererick’s mother.

“Simone, honey, it’s Margaret. Dererick is very upset. He says you left him. I don’t understand what’s happening. Please call me back.”

Simone deleted all the messages. She blocked Dererick’s number, his mother’s number, his sisters’ numbers. She was done.

That evening, she cooked dinner for herself, pot roast, the one Dererick’s family loved. She made it just for herself, and it was delicious.

The two weeks before Dererick’s birthday had been a masterclass in psychological warfare, though Dererick didn’t know he was being played.

It started the Monday after Simone had signed her apartment lease. She’d come home from running errands to find Derek in the living room, scrolling through his phone with that little smile he always had when texting Candace.

“My birthday is coming up in 3 weeks,” he announced without looking up.

“I know,” Simone said.

“I want to do something big this year. Really celebrate.”

Dererick finally looked at her.

“I’m thinking I’ll invite my whole family over. Make it a real party.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll need to cook. The whole family will be here. My mom, my dad, my sisters, uncle Bernard, Aunt Patricia, my cousins. Probably 20 people, maybe more.”

Simone had felt a flicker of anger, but she kept her face neutral.

“That’s a lot of people.”

“You’ve cooked for that many before,” Dererick said dismissively. “Remember Thanksgiving 3 years ago?”

She remembered. She’d spent two days preparing food while Dererick watched football. She’d served 23 people and then cleaned up alone while everyone else socialized. Dererick hadn’t even thanked her.

“I remember,” Simone said quietly.

“Great. So, you’ll do your pot roast, right? And that mac and cheese everyone loves. And those homemade rolls and maybe a couple of pies.”

Dererick was already planning his menu, assuming her compliance.

“Uncle Bernard always asks about your pot roast. He loves it.”

“We’ll see,” Simone said.

Dererick’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean we’ll see? It’s my birthday, Simone. I’m not asking for much.”

Not asking for much. He was asking her to spend days cooking for his ungrateful family while he took all the credit and she got none of the thanks. Just like always.

“I’ll think about it,” Simone said instead.

Over the next two weeks, Dererick brought up the party constantly. He’d add more people to the guest list. He’d describe the decorations he wanted. He’d talk about how impressed everyone would be, how great it would be to have the whole family together.

What he never asked was whether Simone wanted to do this, what she might prefer to do with her time, whether she had any plans of her own.

But Simone let him talk. She let him plan. She let him believe that everything would go the way he wanted, the way it always had.

Meanwhile, she was executing her own plan with precision.

10 days before the party, Simone had started taking smaller items to her new apartment during the day. Photo albums of her family, her jewelry box, her favorite coffee mug, things that Dererick would never notice were missing until it was too late.

She’d also been in contact with her lawyer, finalizing the divorce paperwork. Everything was ready to file on Monday, the day after Dererick’s birthday.

“This is one of the cleanest separations I’ve seen,” her lawyer had told her. “You’ve done everything right. Separate finances, separate assets, documented evidence of infidelity. He won’t have a leg to stand on.”

“Good,” Simone had said.

A week before the party, Dererick had come home with shopping bags from an expensive clothing store.

“New outfit for the party,” he’d explained, showing her a designer shirt and pants. “Got to look good for the family photos.”

Simone had glanced at the price tags before he’d removed them. Over $300 on their joint credit card, the one they were still both responsible for.

“That’s nice,” she’d said neutrally.

“You should get something, too,” Dererick had added, though his tone suggested he didn’t really care. “Make yourself presentable.”

“Presentable?”

As if she was some embarrassing accessory he had to drag out for family functions.

“I’m good,” Simone had said.

4 days before the party, Dererick’s mother had called. Simone had almost not answered, but curiosity got the better of her.

“Hi, Margaret,” Simone had said.

“Hello, dear. I’m so excited for Derrick’s party. He says you’re making your pot roast.”

“He mentioned it.”

“Oh, it’s the best. And I was thinking maybe you could also make that spinach dip you brought to Christmas. Everyone loved it.”

More work, more expectations.

Simone had felt a familiar weight settling on her shoulders, but then she’d remembered she wasn’t going to be there.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Simone had said vaguely.

“You’re such a good wife, dear. Derek is lucky to have you.”

The irony of that statement had almost made Simone laugh. Lucky to have her. Lucky to have someone to cook and clean and manage his life while he spent his time and money on another woman.

“Thank you, Margaret,” Simone had said.

After hanging up, Simone had added Margaret’s number to her block list. After Sunday, she’d never have to talk to her former mother-in-law again.

Three days before the party, Simone had made her last major move of furniture from storage to her apartment. Her desk, the one she’d had since college, her bookshelf, her reading chair, everything was in place now. Her apartment was fully furnished, fully stocked, fully ready to be her home.

That evening, Dererick had been in an especially good mood. He’d gotten confirmation about his promotion, or so he thought. What he didn’t know was that Lauren from accounting was preparing her fraud report, set to be submitted Monday morning.

“I got the regional manager position,” Derek had announced. “Official promotion effective next month.”

“Congratulations,” Simone had said.

“It’s a big raise. Company car, better benefits.”

Derek had looked at her with something like pity.

“You picked a bad time to separate our finances. You could have benefited from this.”

Simone had just smiled. She was making more money than Derek now, especially with her raise from the team lead position she was about to apply for, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I’m happy for you,” she’d said.

2 days before the party, Dererick had finalized the guest list. 23 people. He’d written it all out along with a timeline for the day.

“People will start arriving around 2 p.m.,” he told Simone. “So, you should have the food ready by 1:30. I want everything laid out on the dining table, buffet style.”

Simone had looked at the timeline, at the menu, at Dererick’s expectant face. In 48 hours, this would all be over.

“Sure,” she’d said.

The day before the party, Saturday, Dererick had gone out to buy decorations and supplies. Simone had used this time to remove the last of her personal items from the house, the few photos of her family that were still on display, her favorite kitchen towel, the plant she’d been nurturing on the window sill.

She’d walked through each room, making sure nothing of sentimental value was left behind. The house already felt empty to her, like she’d never lived there at all. It was just a building, just walls and floors and windows. It had never been a home. Not really.

That evening, Derek had returned, loaded down with party supplies, balloons, streamers, paper plates, napkins.

“This is going to be great,” he’d said, setting everything on the kitchen table. “You get the food shopping done?”

“I’ll handle it,” Simone had said.

She wouldn’t, of course, but Dererick didn’t need to know that yet.

That night, Simone had lain awake in the bed she’d shared with Dererick for the last time. He was snoring beside her, oblivious. She’d thought about all the mornings she’d woken up next to him, all the nights she’d fallen asleep hoping he’d be better, that things would change. She’d wasted so much time hoping.

But not anymore. Tomorrow, everything would change. Tomorrow, Derek would learn that you can’t treat people like they’re worthless and expect them to keep serving you. Tomorrow his family would see what kind of man he really was. And Simone, tomorrow Simone would be free.

She’d smiled in the darkness and let herself drift off to sleep. Her last night in this house, her last night as Dererick’s wife in anything but paperwork. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

Sunday morning, Dererick’s birthday started like any other day for him. He woke up at 9:00, stretched, and looked over at Simone’s side of the bed. It was empty.

“Simone,” he called out.

No answer.

Dererick got up and walked downstairs. Maybe she’d gotten an early start on the cooking. His family would be arriving in 5 hours and there was a lot to prepare.

But the kitchen was empty. No pots on the stove. No ingredients on the counter. No smell of anything cooking.

“Simone,” Derek called again louder this time.

He checked the living room, the dining room, the spare bedroom. Nothing. Her car was gone from the driveway.

A small flutter of worry started in Derrick’s chest, but he pushed it down. She was probably out shopping for last minute ingredients. That had to be it.

He checked his phone. No messages from her.

Dererick sent a text.

Where are you? Party starts in 5 hours.

No response.

He called. It rang once and went to voicemail.

The flutter of worry became something sharper.

Dererick walked back through the house looking more carefully this time. Something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. The house looked normal. The furniture was all there, the TV, the decorations he put up yesterday.

But something was missing, some indefinable quality that made a house feel lived in.

He went upstairs and opened Simone’s closet. It looked full at first glance, but then Dererick noticed the gaps. Her favorite sweater was gone. Her good shoes were gone. A lot of her clothes were gone, actually, replaced with older items pushed forward to fill the space.

Dererick’s heart started beating faster. He opened her dresser drawers, half empty. He went to the bathroom. Her toothbrush was gone. Her face wash, her lotion, all the little products she used everyday, gone.

“No,” Derek said out loud. “No, no, no.”

He ran back downstairs and that’s when he saw it. On the dining table where he’d left all his party decorations, there was an envelope with his name on it. And next to it, catching the afternoon light, was a set of keys and a gold wedding ring.

Dererick’s hands shook as he opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside.

From this day forward, you eat your own food. I hope you enjoy your birthday with your family. Best wishes, Simone.

He read it three times. Four times. The words didn’t change.

She was gone. She’d actually left him on his birthday right before his entire family was supposed to arrive.

Dererick’s phone started ringing. His mother.

“Hi, honey. Happy birthday. We’re leaving in an hour. Should we bring anything?”

Dererick’s mouth was dry.

“Mom, I need to call you back.”

“Is everything okay? You sound strange.”

“I just I need to call you back.”

Dererick hung up before she could respond. He called Simone again. Voicemail.

He sent another text.

Simone, this isn’t funny. Call me back now.

He looked around the kitchen. No food, no preparation, nothing. His family would be here in less than 5 hours expecting a feast, and he had nothing to give them. Worse than nothing, he had an empty kitchen and a missing wife.

Derek tried to think. Could he order catering on this short notice? No. Everywhere good would be booked. Could he go to the grocery store and buy pre-made food? It wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be Simone’s pot roast that Uncle Bernard loved. It wouldn’t be her mac and cheese. It wouldn’t be anything his family was expecting.

He’d have to cancel. He’d have to call everyone and tell them.

Tell them what? That his wife had left him. That she’d walked out on his birthday.

The humiliation washed over him in waves. His family would ask questions. They’d want to know why. They’d want details. His mother would interrogate him. His sisters would take Simone’s side immediately because they’d always liked her better than they liked him.

Dererick sat down at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. How had this happened? How had he not seen this coming?

He thought back over the last few months. Simone had been quiet. Yes, but that was normal. She was always quiet. She’d agreed to separate their finances, but that was what he’d wanted. She’d been fine with him working late, fine with him going out, fine with everything.

She’d been too fine, too agreeable, too calm.

She’d been planning this.

Dererick felt a rush of anger.

How dare she? How dare she embarrass him like this on his birthday of all days? What kind of person did that?

His phone rang again. His mother.

“Derek, what’s going on? Why did you hang up on me?”

“Mama I”—Derek swallowed hard. “There’s a problem with the party.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Simone’s not here.”

“What do you mean she’s not there? Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She left a note. She She left me. Mom.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. When his mother spoke again, her voice was cold.

“What did you do?”

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“Simone is a sweet girl. She wouldn’t just leave for no reason. What did he do?”

Dererick’s mind raced. He couldn’t tell his mother about Candace. He couldn’t tell her about telling Simone to be independent, to pay her own way. He couldn’t tell her about the separate finances, about refusing to buy her food, about any of it.

“We just we’ve been having problems,” he said weakly.

“Problems that you didn’t think to mention to your family. Problems bad enough that she left you.” His mother’s voice was sharp. “Derek, I’m calling your father. We need to talk.”

“Mom, wait,” but she’d already hung up.

Dererick’s phone immediately buzzed with texts from his sisters.

Mom says the party is cancelled. What happened? Where’s Simone? Is she okay? Derek, what did you do?

Everyone immediately assumed it was his fault. Everyone immediately took Simone’s side. And the worst part was they were right.

Dererick tried to call Simone again. It went straight to voicemail. Now she turned off her phone or blocked him.

He sent text after text.

We need to talk. This is childish. You can’t just leave without discussion. At least tell me where you are. My family is coming. You’re embarrassing me. Fine. Be selfish. See if I care. I’m sorry. Okay, just come back and we’ll talk about this.

None of them delivered.

She blocked him.

Dererick stood in his empty kitchen surrounded by party decorations for a celebration that would never happen. And for the first time, he felt real fear.

What if she wasn’t coming back?

What if this was really over?

What would he tell Candace?

The thought of Candace made his stomach drop. He promised her that he was working on leaving Simone, that he just needed time to figure out the logistics. He told her that he was the one in control of the situation, but Simone had left him.

She’d left him, not the other way around. That changed everything.

His phone started ringing. Uncle Bernard this time.

Dererick didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He couldn’t face any of them.

Instead, he sat at his kitchen table surrounded by streamers and balloons for a birthday party that had turned into a disaster, and he tried to figure out where everything had gone so wrong.

In her new apartment across town, Simone was making herself a birthday cake. Nothing fancy, just a simple vanilla cake with chocolate frosting. She’d never liked elaborate celebrations. She preferred small, meaningful moments.

She took a bite of cake and looked around her new living room. Everything in this space was hers. Everything was chosen by her, arranged by her, paid for by her.

Her phone sat on the counter, turned off. She knew Dererick was probably panicking. She knew his family was probably confused and angry. She knew she should feel guilty, but all she felt was free.

She’d spent 8 years making Derrick’s life easier, smoother, better. She cooked his favorite foods, kept his house clean, supported his career, all while putting her own dreams on hold.

And what had he done? He told her to eat her own food. He cheated on her. He’d stolen from her. He treated her like she was worthless.

Well, now he could see how much she’d actually been worth. Now he could handle his own party, his own family, his own life.

Simone smiled and took another bite of cake.

Happy birthday, Derek, she thought. Enjoy your celebration.

2 p.m. came and went.

Dererick sat in his living room surrounded by deflated balloons and unused paper plates, staring at his phone. He’d finally sent a group text to his family 2 hours ago.

Party cancelled. Sorry for the short notice. Something came up.

The responses had been immediate and furious.

His mother, we’re already on our way. We’ll be there in 20 minutes. We’re having a conversation.

Derek, his sister, Rachel, are you serious right now? I drove 3 hours for this.

His sister Jennifer, what happened to Simone? She’s not answering my texts.

Uncle Bernard, your mother called me. I’m coming, too. We need to talk.

No matter what Dererick said, no matter how he tried to put them off, they were coming. And in 10 minutes, they’d be here standing in his driveway expecting answers he didn’t have.

Derek looked around the kitchen one more time as if food would magically appear. Of course, it didn’t. The kitchen was empty except for a box of cereal, some wilted vegetables in the fridge, and a frozen pizza that was probably expired.

His family was expecting pot roast. They were expecting mac and cheese. They were expecting Simone’s cooking, Simone’s hospitality, Simone’s labor. They were expecting Simone, and she was gone.

The sound of cars pulling into the driveway made Derrick’s stomach drop. He watched through the window as his entire family arrived, his parents in their sedan, his sisters in their SUVs, uncle Bernard and Aunt Patricia in their truck. They all parked and started walking toward the house, carrying wrapped presents and cheerful expressions.

Derek opened the door before they could knock.

“Hey everyone,” he said weakly. “Thanks for coming, but I really think we should reschedu—”

“Nonsense,” his mother said, pushing past him into the house. She was a tall woman with sharp eyes that missed nothing. “We drove all this way. We’re here for your birthday.”

The rest of the family filed in behind her, and Dererick watched their expressions change as they looked around. No food smells. No dining table set for a feast. No Simone.

“Where’s Simone?” Aunt Patricia asked, looking around with a confused smile. “I wanted to tell her how much I enjoyed her stuffing from Thanksgiving.”

Dererick’s throat was tight.

“She’s not here.”

“Out shopping?” Uncle Bernard suggested. “We can wait.”

“No,” Derek said. “She’s She left.”

The room went silent.

“Left?” his mother repeated slowly. “What do you mean left?”

“I mean she left me. Moved out. She’s gone.”

His sister Rachel’s eyes went wide.

“Simone left you? When?”

“This morning. I woke up and she was gone.”

“On your birthday,” his sister Jennifer said. “Simone wouldn’t do that. She’s too sweet. What happened?”

Derek could feel 20 pairs of eyes on him, all waiting for an explanation. His mind raced.

“We’ve been having problems.”

“What kind of problems?” his mother demanded.

“Just marital problems. It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicated?” Uncle Bernard said. His voice was stern. “Simone is a good woman. She wouldn’t just walk out without reason.”

Dererick felt defensive anger rising.

“Why does everyone automatically assume it’s my fault?”

“Because we know you,” Rachel said bluntly. “And we know Simone. She’s been nothing but good to you for 8 years.”

“She always seemed happy,” Aunt Patricia added. “Always smiling, always taking care of you. What changed?”

Derek didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell them about Candace. He couldn’t tell them about the financial separation, about telling Simone to be independent, about any of it without making himself look like the villain, because he was the villain. He knew it now, standing in his empty house, surrounded by his disappointed family. He was the bad guy in this story.

“It’s complicated,” he repeated lamely.

His mother stepped closer, her expression hard.

“Derek, did you cheat on her?”

“No.” The lie came automatically. “Of course not.”

But his mother’s eyes narrowed. She’d always been able to tell when he was lying, even when he was a kid.

“Derek.”

“I didn’t cheat,” Dererick insisted. “We just grew apart.”

“Growing apart doesn’t end with someone leaving a note on your birthday,” his father said. He’d been quiet until now, but his voice carried weight. “Something specific happened. What was it?”

Dererick felt trapped. His family was forming a circle around him, all of them waiting for the truth. He thought about Candace, about the text messages, about the nights he’d come home late smelling like her perfume.

“I may have. There might have been—” Derek couldn’t finish the sentence.

“You cheated,” Rachel said flatly. “Oh my god, Derek. You cheated on Simone.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s exactly that simple,” Jennifer cut in. “Did you sleep with someone else while married to Simone? Yes or no?”

Derek didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

His mother sat down heavily on the couch.

“How could you? That girl has been nothing but loyal to you. She gave up her career to support yours. She ran this household. She took care of you.” She looked up at him with disgust in her eyes. “Who is she?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Who is she?” his mother repeated, her voice sharp as a blade.

“A coworker, Candace. But it’s not serious. We were just—”

“Not serious?” Uncle Bernard’s voice boomed through the room. “You destroyed your marriage for something that’s not serious?”

Dererick felt himself shrinking.

“Simone changed. She wasn’t the same person I married.”

“People grow, Derek,” his father said quietly. “That’s what happens in marriage. You’re supposed to grow together.”

“She stopped being ambitious. She stopped caring about her career.”

“Because you asked her to,” Rachel interrupted. “I remember when you got married, you specifically asked her to be flexible with her schedule to support your career. You asked her to put you first.”

Derek remembered. He’d wanted Simone available for client dinners, for entertaining his co-workers, for making his life easier, and she’d done all of it without complaint until 3 months ago when he told her to eat her own food.

“I needed her to be more independent,” Dererick said weakly.

“Independent?” his mother’s voice was ice cold. “Or did you need her out of the way so you could fool around with this Candace person?”

“That’s not— Where’s the food, Derek?” Aunt Patricia interrupted, looking toward the kitchen. “You said there would be a birthday dinner. Simone’s pot roast.”

Dererick’s face burned.

“There is no food.”

“No food?” Uncle Bernard repeated. “You invited 23 people to a party with no food?”

“I thought Simone would cook,” Dererick admitted. “I told her to cook. I expected her to be here.”

The silence that followed was damning.

“Let me get this straight,” Rachel said slowly. “You cheated on your wife, treated her poorly, and then expected her to cook a feast for your entire family on your birthday.”

Put like that, it sounded worse than Dererick had imagined.

“And when she wasn’t here, when she clearly left you, you didn’t think to warn any of us,” Jennifer added. “You let us all drive hours to get here for a party that you knew wasn’t happening.”

“I didn’t know she’d really leave,” Derek said. “I thought she was bluffing.”

“Bluffing?” his mother repeated. She stood up and walked toward him. “Your wife left you, Derek. She walked out. That’s not bluffing. That’s choosing herself over a man who didn’t deserve her.”

“Mom, no.”

His mother held up her hand.

“I’m not done. I raised you better than this. Your father and I taught you to treat people with respect, especially your partner. And this is how you repay that? By cheating? By taking Simone for granted.”

Dererick felt tears pricking at his eyes.

“I made a mistake.”

“You made several mistakes,” his father corrected. “And now you’re dealing with the consequences.”

“I can fix this,” Dererick said desperately. “I can call her, apologize, make it right.”

“She blocked you, didn’t she?” Rachel guessed. “That’s why you’ve been staring at your phone all morning.”

Dererick nodded miserably.

“Good,” Rachel said firmly. “She should block you. You don’t deserve to talk to her right now.”

Uncle Bernard picked up his present, the one he’d brought for Derek.

“I think we’re going to leave. This isn’t a birthday party. This is a mess of your own making.”

One by one, Dererick’s family members picked up their gifts and headed toward the door. His mother was last, pausing in the doorway to look back at him.

“You have a lot of growing up to do, Derek, and you’re going to do it alone because Simone is done raising you.” She shook her head sadly. “I’m disappointed in you. We all are.”

The door closed behind her, and Dererick was alone.

He stood in his living room, surrounded by party decorations and unused plates, and the weight of what he’d done finally hit him fully. He’d lost Simone. He’d lost his family’s respect. He’d lost everything that mattered while chasing something that didn’t.

His phone buzzed. A text from Candace.

Happy birthday, baby. When can I see you?

Dererick looked at the message and felt sick. Candace. This was all for Candace. And suddenly, he couldn’t remember why she’d seemed so exciting, so worth it.

He thought about Simone’s smile, her patience, her kindness. He thought about all the mornings she’d made his coffee, all the dinners she’d cooked, all the ways she’d made his life better, and he thought about how he’d told her to eat her own food, as if her contributions were worthless, as if she was worthless.

Dererick sat down at his dining table in the same spot where Simone had left his keys and wedding ring. He picked up the ring and held it up to the light. She’d really left. She’d planned it, executed it perfectly, and left him sitting here in the ruins of his own arrogance.

For the first time, Dererick understood what he’d lost, and it was far too late to get it back.

Monday morning came with the sharp clarity of consequences.

Dererick woke up on his couch, still wearing the clothes from yesterday, surrounded by the remnants of the party that never was. His phone was dead, his head was pounding, and the house was so quiet it felt like a tomb.

He plugged in his phone and watched the messages load. More texts from family members, all saying versions of the same thing. They were disappointed in him. His mother had texted at midnight.

We need to talk when you’re ready to be honest.

There was nothing from Simone. Of course, there wasn’t.

Dererick dragged himself upstairs and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked terrible. His eyes were red. His hair was a mess. And there was something defeated about his posture that he’d never noticed before.

He took a shower and got dressed for work, moving on autopilot. Maybe work would be a distraction. Maybe he could lose himself in his job and forget about the disaster his personal life had become.

He got to the office at 8:30, later than usual. He nodded at the receptionist and headed for his desk, but his boss, Mr. Patterson, stopped him in the hallway.

“Derek, my office now.”

Something in Mr. Patterson’s tone made Derrick’s stomach drop. He followed his boss into the office and sat down in the chair across from the desk. Mr. Patterson didn’t sit. He stood behind his desk, his expression grim.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want the truth. Have you been submitting personal expenses for reimbursement through company accounts?”

Dererick felt the floor drop out from under him.

“What?”

“Our accounting department flagged some irregularities in your expense reports. Multiple charges for restaurants, hotels, and purchases that don’t match up with your travel schedule or client meetings.”

Lauren, the woman who’d called Simone, had followed through with her report.

“I can explain,” Derek started.

“Can you? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve been stealing from the company for the last 6 months to the tune of about $15,000.”

“It’s not stealing. I was reimbursing the company from my personal account.”

“Except you weren’t, were you? The accounting department tracked it. You were using your joint checking account, which means you were essentially washing money through the company books. That’s fraud, Derek.”

Derek felt sick.

“Mr. Patterson, please. I made a mistake. I can pay it all back.”

“You’re not going to get the chance. You’re fired effective immediately. Security will escort you out. You have 10 minutes to clean out your desk.”

“What about my promotion? The regional manager position.”

Mr. Patterson’s laugh was bitter.

“You think we’re promoting someone we’re about to report to the police for fraud?”

“The police?”

The word hit Derek like a physical blow.

“You’re reporting me?”

“We have no choice. This is a crime. The company has to protect itself.”

Mr. Patterson walked to the door and opened it. Two security guards were waiting outside.

“Get your things.”

Dererick stood on shaky legs. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a nightmare. But it wasn’t. It was real.

In 10 minutes, he was out on the sidewalk with a box of his desk belongings, no job, no promotion, and the threat of criminal charges hanging over his head.

He sat in his car in the parking lot and called Candace.

“Hey baby,” she answered cheerfully. “I missed you yesterday. Can I see you tonight?”

“I just got fired,” Derek said.

Silence.

“Then what?”

“I got fired. They’re accusing me of fraud. The expense reports, the—”

“What, Derek? What are you talking about?”

“The dinners, the hotels, the gifts I bought you. I ran them through the company accounts. I thought I was being smart, but they caught me.”

More silence. When Candace spoke again, her voice was different.

“You committed fraud to buy me things?”

“I wanted to give you nice things. I wanted to impress you.”

“With stolen money?” Candace’s voice rose. “Are you insane? If you were stealing from the company, what else were you lying about?”

“I wasn’t lying about us.”

“What about your wife? You said you were leaving her. You said you were handling it.”

Derek thought about telling Candace that Simone had left him, but the words wouldn’t come.

“It’s complicated.”

“Everything with you is complicated, Derek. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t date someone who’s unemployed and possibly going to jail.”

“Candace, please.”

“We’re done. Don’t call me again.”

She hung up.

Dererick sat in his car holding his dead phone and felt the last piece of his world crumble. He’d lost his wife. He’d lost his family’s respect. He’d lost his job. And now he’d lost Candace, the woman he destroyed everything for.

He drove home in a daze. The house was still empty, still covered in party decorations. The divorce papers that Simone’s lawyer had sent were waiting in his mailbox.

Derek sat at his kitchen table and read through them. It was all there laid out in legal terms. Simone wanted nothing from him. She didn’t want the house, the cars, any joint property. She just wanted out.

She’d also attached copies of his text messages with Candace. Somehow she’d gotten screenshots. She’d known about the affair the whole time. She’d known and she’d said nothing. She just planned her exit and executed it perfectly while Dererick had walked around thinking he was in control.

His phone rang, his lawyer.

“Mr. Patterson, I just heard from the prosecutor’s office. They’re pressing charges for fraud and embezzlement. You need to come in for questioning.”

“Can they prove it?” Derek asked desperately.

“Derek, they have 6 months of documentation. Yes, they can prove it.”

“What’s the best case scenario?”

“Best case, you plead guilty, pay back the money, and maybe avoid jail time. But you’ll have a record, and you’ll need to pay legal fees.”

Legal fees he couldn’t afford without a job, paying back $15,000 he didn’t have. All of it falling apart.

“I need to think,” Derek said.

“Don’t think too long. The arraignment is in 2 weeks.”

Dererick hung up and looked around his empty house. This was his life now, no wife, no job, no girlfriend, facing criminal charges, his family disgusted with him. He’d done this to himself, every single piece of it.

His mother called in the evening.

“I heard you got fired,” she said without preamble. “Is it true?”

“How did you—”

“Your sister Jennifer knows someone who works there. Word travels fast.”

She sighed.

“Derek, what have you done?”

“I made mistakes,” Derek said. “I know that now.”

“Do you? Because from where I stand, you still don’t fully understand what you’ve lost. Simone was the best thing that ever happened to you. And you threw her away for what? Some woman at work, money, status. I don’t know.”

Derek admitted.

“I thought I wanted something more exciting.”

“Exciting?” his mother repeated. “Marriage isn’t about excitement, Derek. It’s about partnership. It’s about building a life with someone. And you had that. You had a woman who loved you, who supported you, who made your life better every single day. And you couldn’t see it.”

“I see it now.”

“Too late. She’s gone. And good for her. She deserves better than you.”

The words hurt, but Dererick couldn’t argue.

“Can you tell her I’m sorry? Can you reach out to her?”

“No. I’m not your messenger, and she doesn’t want to hear from you. She blocked you for a reason.”

His mother’s voice softened slightly.

“You need to figure out who you are, Derek. You need to deal with these legal problems and take responsibility for what you’ve done. And you need to do it without dragging Simone back into your mess.”

After his mother hung up, Dererick sat in the dark house and finally let himself cry. Not for the lost promotion or the lost job or even for Candace. He cried for Simone, for the 8 years he’d wasted, for the woman he’d taken for granted until she was gone.

Across town, Simone was having dinner with her new co-workers. Patricia had organized a welcome dinner for her, celebrating her promotion to team lead. The restaurant was nice, the food was excellent, and Simone felt more herself than she had in years.

“So, you’re officially leading the new analytics team,” Patricia said, raising her glass. “Congratulations.”

Everyone toasted and Simone smiled.

“Thank you all. I’m excited for the challenge.”

“You’re going to be great,” one of her new team members said. “We’re lucky to have you.”

Lucky to have her. Not taking her for granted, not expecting her labor without appreciation, actually valuing her contributions.

Simone’s phone buzzed with a text from her lawyer.

Dererick signed the papers. Divorce will be final in 90 days. He’s not contesting anything.

90 days. In 90 days, she’d be officially free, officially divorced, officially starting her life over.

She looked around the table at her new colleagues, her new friends. She thought about her new apartment, her new job, her new future. She’d done it. She’d escaped and she was thriving.

Dererick could keep his empty house and his regrets. Simone was moving forward, and she wasn’t looking back.

6 months later, spring came to the city like a promise. Simone stood on her balcony in the early morning light, coffee in hand, watching the trees below turn green with new leaves. Her apartment had transformed over the months from a temporary shelter into a real home. Plants lined the balcony railing. Art she’d chosen herself hung on the walls. Every corner reflected her taste, her choices, her life.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Patricia.

Team meeting at 10. Don’t forget your presentation on the Thompson account. You’re going to crush it.

Simone smiled. The Thompson account was the biggest client her team had landed, and she’d been the one to bring them in. 6 months ago, she couldn’t have imagined being this confident, this successful, this completely in control of her own life.

The divorce had been finalized 3 months ago. Dererick hadn’t contested anything. According to her lawyer, he’d been too busy dealing with his legal problems to fight. He’d pleaded guilty to fraud charges and received probation plus community service. He’d lost his house to foreclosure when he couldn’t keep up the mortgage payments alone.

Last Simone heard, he was living with his parents and working at a call center. She didn’t feel satisfaction at his downfall. She didn’t feel anything at all when she thought about him. And that was perhaps the greatest victory. He’d been reduced from the center of her world to someone who used to be in her life. Past tense. Irrelevant.

Simone finished her coffee and got ready for work. She had a video call with a potential new client at 9:00, then the team meeting, then lunch with a friend from her analytics training program. Her days were full now, but full in a way that energized rather than depleted her.

The work presentation went well. The client call went even better. By noon, Simone was feeling that familiar glow of accomplishment that came from doing something she was good at and being recognized for it.

She was just packing up her laptop when Patricia messaged her.

Free for lunch? Want you to meet someone.

Simone headed to the cafe down the street where Patricia was already waiting at a table with a man Simone didn’t recognize. He was tall with kind eyes and an easy smile, dressed casually but professionally.

“Simone, this is Julian Torres. He’s an architect working on the design for our new office building. Julian, this is Simone, our analytics team lead I’ve been telling you about.”

“Nice to meet you,” Julian said, standing to shake her hand. His handshake was firm but gentle. “Patricia speaks very highly of you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Simone said, sliding into the booth.

Lunch was supposed to be a quick business discussion about data analysis for the office design project, but it turned into something more. Julian was easy to talk to, asking genuine questions about her work, listening to her answers with real interest. He talked about his architecture firm, about sustainable design principles, about his love for creating spaces that made people feel welcome.

“The best buildings are the ones where people feel like they can breathe,” Julian said. “Where they feel safe and comfortable and inspired all at once.”

Simone thought about her apartment, about how it felt like she could finally breathe after years of suffocation.

“I understand that completely.”

After lunch, as they were leaving, Julian turned to her.

“This might be forward, but would you be interested in getting coffee sometime outside of work?”

Simone hesitated for just a moment. Was she ready? Was it too soon? But then she looked at Julian’s kind face, his patient expression, and she thought about how far she’d come in 6 months. She’d rebuilt her career, her confidence, her life. Maybe it was time to rebuild her ability to trust, too.

“I’d like that,” she said.

They exchanged numbers and Simone walked back to her apartment with a small smile on her face. She wasn’t rushing into anything. She was just open to possibilities.

That weekend, she met Julian for coffee at a small cafe near the river. They talked for 3 hours about everything and nothing, their childhoods, their careers, their favorite books and movies. Julian told her about his divorce 2 years ago, about how he’d had to rebuild himself, too.

“It’s strange how you can be with someone for years and not realize you’ve been settling,” Julian said. “Not realize you deserve better.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Simone said.

Over the next few months, she and Julian started seeing each other regularly. Casual dates at first, then longer conversations, then quiet evenings where he’d cook dinner at his place or she’d cook at hers.

It was different from what she’d had with Derek. There was no game playing, no power struggles, no keeping score, just two people who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. Julian never pushed. He never demanded. He never expected her to change who she was to fit his needs. Instead, he seemed genuinely interested in knowing who she was and supporting that person.

“I love how passionate you are about your work,” he told her one evening as they sat on her balcony watching the sunset. “The way your eyes light up when you talk about solving complex problems.”

Simone felt tears prick her eyes. Dererick had never noticed when her eyes lit up. He’d never cared about her passion for anything except how it affected him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, “for seeing me.”

“That’s easy,” Julian said, taking her hand. “You’re hard to miss.”

It was late October, almost a full year since she’d left Derek, when Simone ran into him at the grocery store. She was picking out vegetables for a dinner she was making for Julian when she heard a familiar voice from the next aisle.

“Simone.”

She turned and there he was.

“Derek.”

He looked smaller than she remembered, his clothes hanging loose on a frame that had lost weight. His eyes were tired, his expression uncertain.

“Derek,” she said neutrally.

“Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

Simone looked at her cart, at the ingredients for her evening with Julian, at the life she’d built that had nothing to do with this man standing in front of her.

“I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“Please, I just want to apologize.”

She studied him for a moment. He looked genuinely remorseful, genuinely broken, but it wasn’t her responsibility to fix him anymore.

“Okay, one minute.”

Derek took a breath.

“I was wrong about everything. The way I treated you, the affair, all of it. I took you for granted and I didn’t see what I had until it was gone.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m in therapy now, trying to figure out why I was such an idiot.”

“That’s good,” Simone said. “I’m glad you’re working on yourself.”

“I wanted to ask if maybe we could—”

“No,” Simone interrupted gently but firmly. “Whatever you’re about to ask, the answer is no. I’m not getting back together with you. I’m not even interested in being friends. That part of my life is over.”

Dererick’s face fell.

“I understand. I just thought—”

“I know what you thought, but I’ve moved on, Derek. I’m happy now. Really happy. And I hope someday you can be happy, too. But that happiness doesn’t involve me.”

She could see him struggling with this, wanting to argue, wanting to convince her. But instead, he just nodded.

“You look good, happy. I’m glad.”

“Thank you,” Simone said. “I wish you well, Derek. I really do. But this is goodbye.”

She walked away, her cart full of ingredients for her new life, and she didn’t look back.

That evening, Julian came over, and they cooked dinner together in her small kitchen. She told him about running into Derek, about the closure she’d felt in that moment.

“Are you okay?” Julian asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m more than okay,” Simone said. “I’m free.”

After dinner, they sat on her balcony, watching the city lights come on below. Simone thought about the woman she’d been a year ago, standing in that empty kitchen, reading Derrick’s cruel words about eating her own food. She thought about how scared she’d been, how uncertain. But she’d been brave. She’d taken the risk. She’d bet on herself when no one else did and she’d won.

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked.

Simone smiled.

“How sometimes the best revenge is just living well.”

“Is this living well?” Julian asked, gesturing to the balcony, the apartment, the peaceful evening.

“This is living well,” Simone confirmed. “This is exactly what living well looks like.”

6 months later, Simone got another promotion at work, this time to senior team lead with a significant raise. She moved to a bigger apartment with two bedrooms, one she turned into a home office. Julian had a key, though they weren’t officially living together. They were taking things slow, building something real and lasting.

Patricia retired and recommended Simone for her position. Simone became the youngest director in the company’s history.

On the anniversary of the day she left Derek, Simone took herself out to dinner at the nicest restaurant in the city. She ordered whatever she wanted without checking the price. She enjoyed every bite. She paid with her own credit card, money she’d earned through her own hard work.

And when she went home to her apartment, where Julian was waiting with flowers and a smile, she realized that her revenge had never been about making Dererick suffer. Her revenge had been about making herself thrive.

She’d eaten her own food, and it had been delicious.