Chapter 3 - The Breaking Point
Twenty minutes later, the front door rattled violently as Garrett unlocked it with his spare key. He stormed into the apartment, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with fury.
“Are you completely insane?!” Garrett roared, grabbing my arm and spinning me around. “Tabitha is crying in the lobby! My mother is having heart palpitations because of your cold-hearted selfishness! Go out there right now and apologize!”
I looked down at his hand gripping my arm, then slowly raised my eyes to meet his.
“Take your hand off me, Garrett,” I whispered.
The coldness in my tone made him hesitate. He slowly dropped his hand, though his expression remained ferocious. “You have changed, Elena. You used to be warm, accommodating, family-oriented. Ever since you started that stupid work-from-home freelance gig, you’ve become cold, distant, and completely unmanageable!”
“My work pays half the bills in this house, Garrett,” I reminded him, my voice dangerously steady. “Or at least it did, until you decided to treat our joint account like your mother’s personal ATM.”
Garrett flinched. The color drained slightly from his cheeks, though he quickly masked it with defensive anger. “What are you talking about?”
“Eighty-five hundred dollars last week,” I said, crossing my arms. “Five thousand the week before that. Seven thousand last month. Nearly forty-eight thousand dollars siphoned out of our savings in three months to pay your mother's luxury expenses, Tabitha's credit card bills, and your family's endless debts. You didn't consult me once.”
“We’re family!” Garrett shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “My mother raised me! Tabitha is a single mother! What was I supposed to do, let them drown while we sit here in a comfortable apartment?! That’s what husbands do, Elena! They provide for the family!”
“Family doesn't steal behind your back,” I replied calmly. “And a husband doesn't lie to his wife to fund his mother's shopping sprees.”
Before Garrett could formulate a response, his phone buzzed loudly on the kitchen counter. He snatched it up, looked at the screen, and glared at me.
“It’s my mother,” he snapped. “She’s calling to tell you what a terrible person you are.”
“Then put her on speaker,” I said, walking over to the kitchen island and pouring myself a fresh cup of coffee. “Let’s hear what else she has to say about the woman whose apartment she’s currently trying to colonize.”
Garrett stared at me as if I had grown a second head. Refusing to back down, he hit the speaker button and tossed the phone onto the granite countertop.
“Garrett?” Lorraine’s shrill, demanding voice filled the kitchen. “Did you straighten that ungrateful wife of yours out? Tabitha and the children are sitting in a dreadful coffee shop down the block spending twenty dollars on hot chocolate because of her!”
Garrett looked at me nervously, clearing his throat. “Mom, look, she’s just stressed about work—"
“I don't care about her work!” Lorraine interrupted sharply. “Sitting in front of a laptop all day clicking buttons is not real labor! She needs to learn her place as a wife in this family. Now, you tell her to pack her bags for the weekend, because we are coming back up to take the master bedroom so the kids can have space!”
I took a slow sip of my coffee, looked directly at Garrett, and smiled.
“Tell her no, Garrett,” I said clearly into the speaker.
Lorraine went dead silent on the other end of the line. Then, her voice shrieked with absolute venom: “Who said that?! Is that the common, selfish little girl talking back to me again?! Garrett, you are a man! Put her in her place or don't come home tonight!”
The line went dead with a harsh click.
Garrett stared at the phone, then slowly looked up at me, his eyes full of pathetic helplessness and boiling anger. “You just had to push it, didn’t you? You couldn't just swallow your pride for one weekend to keep the peace?”
“There is no peace to keep, Garrett,” I said, setting my coffee cup down. I walked over to the entryway, picked up my heavy leather suitcase, and walked right past him toward the front door.
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“Where are you going?!” Garrett demanded.
“I’m going somewhere quiet,” I replied, turning the handle. “When you get back from your mother's hotel room, check the dining room table. I left a little housewarming gift for you.”
