An Exit Without Goodbye

The maid's quarters never felt so crowded.

The venom Wendy had shown earlier was gone. She sat by my bed, tears streaming down her face as she tended to my wounds.

"Does it hurt?"

Her words were gentle, but her hands were not, pressing the cotton swab firmly into my injury.

I clenched my teeth against the pain, shaking my head.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Chester watching my wound intently. He must have seen Wendy's roughness, but he stood by, hands in pockets, silently condoning her actions.

After Wendy finished, I was drenched in a cold sweat from the pain.

He did not spare me a glance; instead, he took a handkerchief and tenderly wiped the tears from Wendy's eyes.

"Enough crying. She's getting what she deserves, and she didn't even do a good job."

Wendy nestled into Chester's arms, and I looked away, unable to watch.

On the table was the bouquet Chester gave me earlier. Despite days of careful tending, it wilted, its colors faded.

After escorting Wendy out, Chester came back.

He pressed his lips together, his face unreadable.

"Wendy's always been a bit of a kid at heart. Don't sweat the small stuff she pulled earlier."

His voice softened as he spoke, a tender smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

"She's really quite sweet, you know. However, she gets our situation, and sometimes she just needs to let off some steam.

"In a few days, once we've made it official with the engagement, I'll hook you up with a plane ticket. Go see the world, take a break, you deserve it."

He cleared his throat, the smile fading.

"We're going to be sharing our lives, and I really hope you won't hold any grudges against her."

He's probably worried I would not play nice with Wendy down the line.

However, hey, if he's offering me a ticket to anywhere, maybe it's not such a bad idea to just not come back, I thought.

After Chester saw I was not upset, he left me with a few parting words.

I grabbed my bag and started packing – a few clothes, the essentials. I was there for over twenty years, and it felt like home.

However, sticking around? I just did not have it in me.

Buried in my bag was the charm Chester got for me when he was fifteen. He went to church, lit a candle, and prayed for me.

He said my safety was all that mattered, as long as I was by his side.

I held the charm one last time before pulling it out of the bag.

If I were cutting ties, I could not leave any strings attached.

Lately, Wendy stuck close to the Grahams.

It turned out they were getting hitched the day I was set to leave.

She did not let me have a moment alone with Chester, keeping me busy: climbing trees for flowers, fishing despite my still-healing wounds.

Every time, it ended the same way: I was left battered and bruised, her grip forcing me under the water until I was gasping for air.

Her gaze was pure, her laughter bright and full of innocence, as if she were incapable of cruelty.

Chester knew. He always knew, and he let it happen, even suggested I just put up with it.

"She's just blowing off steam. Pretend you're playing with a kid," he would say.

I kept silent, only daring to tend to my wounds in the quiet of the night.

The day before they were to announce their engagement, I was summoned to a grand room.

Opening the door, I was met with the sight of Chester, sharp and handsome in a sleek black suit, his usually unruly hair then slicked back, framing his striking eyes.

My cheeks burned as he looked my way.

Before I could collect myself, Wendy, radiant in her wedding dress, thrust a camera at me.

"Ann, can you take our picture? We really love this set," she said, her arm wrapped around Chester.

Her smile was as bright as ever, but it always seemed to hide a sneer just for me.

My hands shook as I lifted the camera, Chester's tender gaze in the viewfinder reserved only for Wendy.

That tenderness, I realized, was something I only ever felt from him in the secrecy of our nights together, something I would never experience again.

After snapping their final kiss, the camera felt like a lead weight in my hands, and I passed it back to Wendy.

She accepted it with a grin, showering me with compliments on my photography skills.

Chester must have sensed my distress and asked if I was okay.

I kept my gaze low, blinked back the sting of tears, and forced a wide smile.

"I'm okay," I lied.

He did not question me further and motioned for me to leave.

As the door shut behind me, their laughter echoed, a stark contrast to the silence of my own heart.

The morning after the engagement party, I found myself staring at my phone screen. Chester sent over a plane ticket. Then, another message popped up.

[Stay safe out there. I'm waiting for you to come home.]

That extra bit of tenderness would have once had me replying in an instant, maybe even saving a screenshot to swoon over later, tucked away in my bed, eagerly anticipating his next caring check-in.

However, things changed. I barely gave the message a second glance before I hit delete and walked away, suitcase in hand, without a backward glance.