The Other Woman Wasn’t Even Pretty - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
You are reading The Other Woman Wasn’t Even Pretty, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of The Other Woman Wasn’t Even Pretty.
When I picked up our son from school, he was practically bouncing with excitement. "Grandpa called!" he blurted out. "He said he misses me and wants me to stay with them for a whole week! Can I go, Mom? Please?"
I hesitated, caught off guard, but seeing his eager face, I couldn't say no. I helped him pack a small suitcase while he chattered nonstop about Grandpa's promise to take him drone-flying.
After dropping him off, Mom walked me to the car. "Olivia," she said gently, squeezing my shoulder, "you need this. Go out. Do something just for you."
I nodded, forcing a smile, but as I drove away, I caught her in the rearview mirror—still standing there, watching me with that quiet worry only a mother has.
At a red light, I flipped down the visor mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back—pale, exhausted, shadows under her eyes. Digging through my purse, I swiped on a bold red lipstick like armor.
Back home, I threw clothes into a bag without thinking. Then I left. For seven days, I chased distractions—crowded cities, quiet towns, strangers' laughter over coffee, late-night stories exchanged in hostel common rooms.
By the time I returned, my reflection looked different. Lighter. Stronger.
I glanced at the calendar.
21 days until the divorce.
I hesitated, caught off guard, but seeing his eager face, I couldn't say no. I helped him pack a small suitcase while he chattered nonstop about Grandpa's promise to take him drone-flying.
After dropping him off, Mom walked me to the car. "Olivia," she said gently, squeezing my shoulder, "you need this. Go out. Do something just for you."
I nodded, forcing a smile, but as I drove away, I caught her in the rearview mirror—still standing there, watching me with that quiet worry only a mother has.
At a red light, I flipped down the visor mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back—pale, exhausted, shadows under her eyes. Digging through my purse, I swiped on a bold red lipstick like armor.
Back home, I threw clothes into a bag without thinking. Then I left. For seven days, I chased distractions—crowded cities, quiet towns, strangers' laughter over coffee, late-night stories exchanged in hostel common rooms.
By the time I returned, my reflection looked different. Lighter. Stronger.
I glanced at the calendar.
21 days until the divorce.
End of The Other Woman Wasn’t Even Pretty Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to The Other Woman Wasn’t Even Pretty book page.