Chapter 8 - Packing Bags While Evan Begs For Unrealistic Forgiveness
I stood up from my chair, ignoring the turkey dinner entirely as I walked purposefully toward the guest staircase.
Evan scrambled out of his seat, chasing after me up the steps with frantic, pleading steps.
“Lauren, wait! Please don't pack your bags! We can fix this, I swear!” Evan begged, grabbing my arm in the hallway.
I pulled my arm away from his grip with cold precision, unlocking the guest bedroom door.
“Don't touch me, Evan. We are done,” I said flatly, pulling my tactical duffel bag out of the closet.
“I let you hide my career to spare your family’s fragile egos, but you let them disrespect my uniform,” I added.
“I was scared of Chase! You know how toxic he gets when anyone challenges him!” Evan cried out pathetically.
“I spent six years teaching fighter pilots how to survive missile locks and engine fires, Evan. I don't tolerate cowards,” I replied.
I unzipped my duffel bag and began tossing my folded uniforms and civilian clothes inside with ruthless efficiency.
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Evan watched helplessly from the doorway, realizing his cowardly silence had just cost him his entire marriage.
***
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