After the Mudslide, I'm Outta Here

I had no time to flee.

The mudslide surged like a black tide, hurling me into the dirt.

A bone-splintering crack shot up my right leg.

Fingers scrabbling through slime, I yanked out my phone.

Ten missed calls later, it connected.

"Caleb-mudslide, I-"

"Hello?" Yara's giggle sliced through.

"Can't hear you!"

In the background, his voice: "Who is it?"

"Wrong number." She cooed.

"Your soup is delish. Ever since someone spiked my soup, I feel safer with you cooking."

The phone slipped from my limp hand, swallowed by the muck.

I remembered his proposal vow: "If I betray you, let me-"

But the mudslide answered for him, smothering every word.

When consciousness snapped back, Caleb hovered over me, eyes bloodshot.

"Xandra-God, the mudslide-I didn't know-"

His hands shook like leaves, clutching mine.

"Hit me, scream-"

Bang.

The door flew open.

Yara burst in, mascara streaking: "Mrs. Huxley, don't blame him! He went mad when he heard-look at his wounds!" She pointed to his bandaged arm, but my eyes fixed on the mud still caked in his cuff.

"Get out." My voice was ice.

"Both of you."

Caleb flinched. "Xandra-"

"Now." I stared at the ceiling, where a drip of mud trickled from his hair onto my pillow.

The same mud that had almost buried me alive.

"GET OUT!"

The water cup shattered against the floor, glass spraying like diamonds.

Caleb flinched backward, Yara cowering behind him.

Days later, he bombarded me with orchids, Birkin bags, even baby photos of himself.

I stared through him like mist.

Discharge day, he blocked my cab, whip in hand:

"If hitting me will help you vent your anger, help you forgive me. hit me as much as you want." He spoke in an extremely low tone, like he was gently trying to piece back something broken. "Today is the family dinner. Don't be mad at me anymore, okay?"

I laughed.

Laughed as he trailed me through the Huxley mansion, prattling about our first date.

Inside, his mother cooed over Yara' belly: "Finally, an heir."

I remember, the night after our proposal, I ran to my best friend' place out of pre-marriage anxiety, too afraid to see him. He searched for me in the rain all night, finally knocking on the door at 3 a.m., drenched and kneeling before me: "Xandra, what did I do wrong?" I sobbed, "I'm scared. scared of pain. of marriage. even more of childbirth."

My mind flashed to our engagement night: him kneeling in the rain, vow ringing: "No kids-blame me." Now his mother' sneer cut deep: "Yara' so sensible."

This woman used to treat me like her own granddaughter.

"Is the temperature just right?"

The man who once swore he "couldn't" have children had now placed all his hopes in another woman' womb.

Their laughter was a razor on my nerves.

I fled to the pool, but Yara waddled over, hand on her belly.

"Mr. Huxley promised me the West Bay villa," she purred, leaning close.

"Know why he slept with me? I wore your white dress. He thought I was you."

Before I could spit back, she shrieked and splashed into the pool.

"Help! My baby-" She flailed in the water, her screams tearing through the night. When everyone rushed over, they saw me standing at the pool' edge while Yara floundered in the water in a sorry state.

Caleb dove in as Mrs. Huxley slapped me-hard.

"Apologize, witch!"

Blood trickled from my lip.

I smiled, grabbed Yara' soaking arm, and shoved her back in.

Then I wrenched off the bracelet she'd given me and hurled it at her feet.

CRACK.

Shards scattered like our vows.

As Caleb howled behind me, I walked into the night, never looking back.