Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Amelia sat frozen in the back of the car, her mind empty yet somehow overflowing with thoughts she couldn't grasp. The city lights blurred outside the window, smudges of color against the darkness. She hadn't given the driver any direction beyond that single word: "Drive."

"Ma'am?" The driver's voice broke through her haze. "I need to know where we're going."

Amelia blinked, realizing they had been driving in circles for nearly an hour. Her throat felt tight, as if invisible hands were squeezing it.

"Westlake Bridge," she said, her voice hollow. "Take me to the Westlake Bridge."

The driver's eyes met hers in the mirror. Something like concern flickered across his face, but he nodded and turned the car toward the brwidge.

Her phone buzzed again. She stared at it, numb. More messages from her children.

*Mom, please don't make this harder than it needs to be.*

*We still love you, but Dad deserves this chance.*

*Charlotte makes him happy. We just want everyone to be happy.*

Happy. The word echoed in her mind, mocking her. What about her happiness? Twenty years of her life, poured into a family that had discarded her like she meant nothing.

The car slowed to a stop near the edge of the bridge. Rain had started to fall, soft drops pattering against the windows.

"We're here, ma'am," the driver said, his voice gentler than before. "Would you like me to wait?"

Amelia looked at him, this stranger who showed more concern than her own family had. "No," she whispered. "You can go."

He hesitated. "It's raining. Are you sure you don't want me to...."

"Please," she cut him off. "Just go."

She handed him money, far more than the fare required. His eyes widened, but he took it without comment.

"Take care of yourself, ma'am," he said as she stepped out into the rain.

Amelia didn't answer. She stood on the sidewalk, watching as the car's taillights disappeared into the night. Then she turned toward the bridge, her steps slow and heavy.

The Westlake Bridge stretched before her, its lights reflecting off the water below. At this late hour, few cars passed. She walked to the middle of the pedestrian path, her clothes growing heavier with each step as the rain soaked through them.

She reached the railing and gripped it with both hands. The metal felt cold against her skin. Below, the dark water churned, angry and restless.

Twenty years.

Twenty years of waking up next to Richard, of kissing him goodbye in the mornings, of waiting for him to come home at night. Twenty years of planning surprise parties, of nursing him through illnesses, of celebrating his promotions and consoling him through setbacks.

Twenty years of raising their children. Of midnight feedings and diaper changes. Of scraped knees and school plays. Of homework help and driving lessons. Of college applications and graduation ceremonies.

Twenty years of her life, given freely, willingly, lovingly.

And in return?

"Your things are packed. The house belongs to Charlotte now."

A sob tore from her throat, barely audible over the rain and the occasional car passing behind her. Her legs trembled, threatening to give way beneath her.

She looked down at her hands, at the wedding ring still on her finger. The diamond caught the light, sparkling despite the darkness surrounding it. She twisted it off, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.

This tiny circle of gold had once meant everything to her. A promise. A future. A life built on love and trust.

Now it was just a reminder of her foolishness.

She drew her arm back, ready to throw it into the water below, but something stopped her. Not sentimentality, no, that had been crushed the moment Richard walked into the restaurant with Charlotte. Instead, a cold, hard thought formed in her mind: this ring was worth money. Money she would need, now that she had nothing.

She slipped it into her pocket instead.

The rain fell harder, plastering her hair to her face and neck. She didn't bother wiping it away. What did it matter if she was wet? What did anything matter anymore?

Her phone buzzed again. She pulled it out, squinting at the screen through the rain.

Richard: *The driver said he dropped you at Westlake Bridge. What are you doing there?*

So he had been tracking her. Even now, when he had taken everything from her, he wanted to control her movements.

She didn't respond. Instead, she scrolled through her contacts, searching for someone, anyone, she could call. A friend, a relative, anyone who might take her in, at least for tonight.

But who? Most of her friends were Richard's friends too, or the wives of his colleagues. Her parents had passed years ago. Her sister lived across the country with her own family.

She was alone. Completely, utterly alone.

The realization hit her with physical force, making her stumble back from the railing. She had spent so many years being Richard's wife, the children's mother, that she had forgotten how to be Amelia. Just Amelia.

She had no career to fall back on. No skills that would earn her a living. No home to return to. No family to support her.

She was fourty years old, and she had to start over from nothing.

The weight of it crushed her. Her knees gave way, and she sank to the wet concrete of the bridge walkway. The rain mixed with her tears until she couldn't tell which was which.

Her phone buzzed again. And again. And again.

Richard: *Answer me, Amelia.*

Richard: *You're being childish.*

Richard: *The children are worried.*

She laughed, a broken sound that echoed across the empty bridge. The children were worried? The same children who had known about their father's affair and said nothing? The same children who had helped plan her exile?

Her laugh turned to sobs, wrenching from deep in her chest. She curled into herself, arms wrapped around her middle as if she could physically hold herself together when everything inside her was falling apart.

Time lost meaning. She could have been sitting there for minutes or hours, she couldn't tell. The rain continued to fall, colder now, and her body shivered uncontrollably.

Eventually, her sobs quieted, leaving behind a hollow emptiness. She stood on shaky legs and walked back to the railing. The water below looked darker now, more menacing. Or perhaps more inviting.

She leaned forward, her upper body hanging over the edge. The metal rail dug into her stomach, but she barely felt it. What was one more pain, when her entire being was already shattered?

It would be so easy. Just one moment of courage, one push over the edge, and it would all be over. No more pain. No more betrayal. No more starting over from nothing at forty-five.

Just peace. Quiet. An end to this overwhelming agony that threatened to consume her.

She closed her eyes, her grip on the railing loosening. The wind whipped around her, tugging at her clothes, at her hair, as if encouraging her to let go.

She thought of her children. Not as they were now, these strangers who had betrayed her, but as they had been. Julia, with her gap-toothed smile and pigtails. Ethan, serious and kind, always bringing her wildflowers from the garden. Mia, with her infectious laugh and boundless energy.

She thought of the life she had built. The home she had created. The love she had given, so freely, so completely.

And she thought of Richard. Not the man who had sat across from her at the restaurant, cold and distant, but the man she had fallen in love with. The man who had once looked at her like she was his whole world.

Something inside her shifted. Not healing, no, that would take much longer, but a tiny spark of something else. Something that felt almost like anger.

Why should she be the one to disappear? Why should she be the one to give up? Why should they get to live their lives, happy and unburdened, while she became nothing more than a sad memory?

She gripped the railing tighter, her knuckles white with the effort. She would not give them that satisfaction. She would not let them win.

But the thought came too late. Her foot slipped on the wet concrete, and for a terrible moment, she felt herself falling forward, the railing no longer enough to keep her on the bridge.

Time slowed. She saw the water below, dark and unforgiving. She heard the distant sound of a car horn. She felt the rain on her face, cold and relentless.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Not like this. Not because of them.

Just as her body tipped over the edge, a hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with surprising strength. The grip was firm, unyielding. A man's hand.

She gasped, her body suspended for a terrifying moment between life and death, the dark water still calling to her from below. Rain lashed against her face as she dangled, her fate held in a stranger's grasp.

The hand pulled, muscles straining against her weight. Amelia felt herself being dragged back from the brink, back to a world she no longer wanted to be part of.

Her eyes, blurred with rain and tears, could make out nothing but the silhouette of a man against the dim bridge lights. His hand, warm despite the cold night, held onto her with a determination she could not understand.

As her body swayed back toward the safety of the bridge, Amelia's mind filled with conflicting emotions. Relief. Disappointment. Anger. Confusion.

Why couldn't they all just let her go?

The man's fingers tightened around her wrist, an anchor in the storm that had become her life.