Even when his own mother died, Jack never took sick days, not for food sickness, not for fevers. I knew something wasn’t right when he told me he wasn’t going to work as he was slouched over our small kitchen table on a Tuesday morning, looking pale and wheezing. Halfway through scraping charred toast into the garbage, I stopped.
“Are you alright?” I enquired.
“I feel terrible,” he moaned.
With a palm of Tylenol, I added, “You look worse.” Return to your bed. I have the children.
He nodded and shuffled away as I started our daily morning turmoil, which included packing lunches, yelling reminders, haggling with a daughter who was pleading for a pet snake, soothing our son over his scientific project, and reminding our teenager that texting while eating breakfast did not count as social interaction. But when I opened the front door, everything screeched to a stop.
Jack was standing there on our porch.
Or at least a statue of Jack that is life-sized.
From the crooked form of his nose to the scar on his chin, everything about him was porcelain white and uncannily realistic. He was the one. frozen. chilly.
“Is that… Dad?” Ellie muttered.
The real Jack emerged in his bathrobe behind us, and his face drained entirely upon seeing the statue. Without saying a word, he shoved past us, took the body by the arms, and pulled it into the house as if it were a corpse.
“What’s happening?” I insisted.
He didn’t respond.
“Who created that? Why is it present?
“I’ll handle it,” he whispered. “Just take the kids, please.”
“No. Not now. Jack, I demand answers.
Haunted, he said, “Later.” “Please.”
I paused and looked into his eyes, which had a look of fear and remorse that I had never seen before. I gave a nod. “All right. But when I return, I want the truth.
Noah pulled on my coat as we walked away and gave me a crumpled, folded piece of paper. “This was beneath the monument.”
I slowly opened it. Before I even read the words, my stomach turned.
Jack
The statue I created while thinking you loved me is being returned.
I was devastated to learn that you had been married for almost ten years.
You owe me ten thousand dollars. or every message is seen by your wife.
This is the only caution you have.
—Sally
I folded it neatly and put it in my pocket.
“Have you read it?” I enquired.
Noah gave a headshake. “It appeared to be private.”
I forced a smile and responded, “It was.”
After dropping the kids off, I sobbed while driving and parked into a grocery store parking lot. I then snapped a picture of the note, opened my phone, and looked up divorce attorneys. I called the first woman I saw on the list.
I said, “I have an appointment today.” “It’s urgent.”
By midday, I was seated in front of Patricia, a composed and perceptive lawyer. The note was slid over her desk.
“My husband was sculpted by this woman, and now she is extorting him.”
Patricia studied it, then raised her gaze. This suggests an affair. Have you got any evidence?
“Not just yet,” I replied. “But I will.”
“Avoid doing anything unlawful.”
I lied and said, “I won’t.”
Jack had slept off at the kitchen table that night, his laptop burning. I came up as if I were approaching someone I didn’t know. He had his inbox open. I didn’t think twice.
Don’t send it, please. I’ll cover the sculpture’s cost.
My wife is unable to learn.
Sally, I still adore you. I simply cannot go until the children are older.
I captured all of it in screenshots. Each and every email. All lies. I then closed the laptop and turned to leave.
I sent her an email the following morning.
I located your note and your statue. I have enquiries. Tell the truth.
She answered almost immediately.
I’m so sorry. He informed me about his divorce. It was until last week that I discovered the truth.
How long did you two spend together?
Nearly a year. At an art gallery, we first met. I’m a sculptor.
Are you still in love with him?
No. No more.
Are you willing to testify?
Indeed.
We appeared in court four weeks later. Sally carried her texts, pictures, and emails with her. Jack never gave me a glance. When the judge ordered Jack to pay Sally $10,000 in damages, gave me full custody, and gave me the house, Jack appeared to have finally been confronted by the reality.
Patricia put a comforting touch on my shoulder outside the courthouse.
“You performed well.”
I said, “I didn’t do anything.” “This is what he did to himself.”
As I made my way to the car, Jack attempted to talk.
He said, “I never meant to hurt you.”
Cold and steady, I turned to him. “You didn’t intend for me to know.”
“Lauren—”
Don’t. The documentation contains the itinerary of your visits. Avoid being late.
I climbed into the car, turned on the ignition, and drove away, leaving him with his statue, his lies, and the wreckage of everything he believed he could keep hidden forever.