When the Lights Go Out in Manhattan Chapter 9

The moment Julian left, I called an Uber and checked into a hotel.

I slept until dawn.

I lit up my phone screen, slightly surprised to find Julian had called me dozens of times throughout the night.

When I went home in the afternoon, Julian was sitting on the sofa, unshaven, his eyes unfocused.

He asked where I had been last night.

I just said, "I found an apartment. I'm packing and moving out today."

Seeing the moving truck parked outside the window, Julian looked at me like his soul had left his body.

"Eleanor, does it have to be this way?"

I walked into the study and placed the signed divorce agreement in front of him again.

"I told you. I'm serious this time."

"Eleanor, I swear nothing happened with Chloe! She threatened to hurt herself last night, I couldn't just—"

I interrupted him. "It doesn't matter."

Julian looked dazed. "What?"

I locked eyes with him and chuckled softly.

"From now on, whatever happens between you and Chloe has nothing to do with me. So you really don't need to explain any of this."

Hearing this, Julian's eyes, already bloodshot, turned a deep crimson visible to the naked eye.

Three days after the move.

I met a friend for afternoon tea at a café in SoHo.

Not long after we sat down, Julian called. I didn't answer.

A moment later, a text came through.

“Eleanor, I'm sick. Can you come home and check on me?”

Reading that text, the ribs on my left side that had been broken in a car accident seemed to ache again.

That rear-end collision had been severe. Julian was away on a business trip at the time.

Before the ambulance arrived, I weakly held my increasingly painful upper abdomen, shaking as I called him.

He finally picked up on the fourth try.

His tone was colder than ice. "I'm in a meeting."

When I sobbed that I had been in a car crash, that I was in pain and scared, Julian scoffed through his nose.

Even over the phone, I could imagine his dismissive expression.

"Eleanor, you're an adult. Don't you know how to call the police and insurance? What can I do? Fly over and hold your hand? Or turn back time and remind you to watch the road?"

"Julian, I didn't mean to disturb you, I'm just really scared—"

"Enough. Grow up and handle it yourself."

Click.

The busy signal after that heartless hang-up years ago now transformed into Julian's incoming call ringtone.