I just turned around, walked into our master bedroom, and pulled my suitcase from the closet. I started packing my clothes.
Usually, this was the part where I cried. The part where I begged him to look at me, to choose me, to explain why I was never enough.
Today, the room was dead silent.
Heavy footsteps suddenly stormed into the room. Before I could fold my last shirt, Brandon grabbed my arm and yanked me around to face him.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded, his jaw clenched tight. “Aren’t you gonna say a word to me? Aren’t you jealous? Paula is here.”
I gently pulled my arm out of his grip and turned back to my suitcase. “Well, yeah.”
Brandon stared at me like I had lost my mind.
“What is wrong with you?” he barked, stepping into my space. “Are you cheating on me? Is that why you don’t care?”
My hands paused on the zipper. I let out a short, dry laugh and looked him dead in the eye.
“Cheating?” I repeated. “Brandon, it’s not like you love me.”
He flinched, but I didn't stop.
“From the very beginning, it has always been business with us. We aren't husband and wife. We just have contracts and deals.”