For Five Years, My Husband Loved Me Like a Replacement Chapter 06
Eliot Vance was a restorer. He was also one of the mentors for the Southport Residency.
He set the canvas on the table and nodded politely. “Mr. Sterling.”
Julian didn’t respond.
“You’re divorcing me over a few bouquets of flowers and one painting?”
I almost laughed. “Julian, not everyone operates the way you do.”
His face went dark. “What way is that?”
I didn’t answer.
Eliot glanced between us, then spoke calmly. “Ms. Moore, we’d better restore the fragments today. If we wait any longer, they’ll keep flaking away.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Julian reached for my arm.
“We’re not done talking.”
I pulled away. “I’m done.”
His hand hung in the air.
Before, whenever he frowned, I’d always step back first.
Not this time.
—
Julian stared at me, voice dropping. “Vivian. ‘Ms. Moore, we’d better restore the fragments today. If we wait any longer, they’ll keep flaking away.'”
I said, “Should’ve drawn it a long time ago.”
He left with the divorce papers still in his hand.
Tara leaned against the doorframe. “Will he sign?”
“No.”
I bent down to organize the canvas.
“He just thinks I can’t live without him.”
Tara clicked her tongue. “Then let him find out.”
***
I was accepted into the Southport Residency soon afterward.
The day I moved out, Julian came home.
I’d packed only one small suitcase in the living room.
His face looked worse than the night of the gallery.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
He stared at the half-empty closet, then said, “Your dried white roses are still in the study.”
I stopped.
—
They were the white roses from my first birthday after we got married.
I’d carefully dried them myself.
I thought they were proof he loved me.
I said, “Throw them out.”
Julian flinched like I’d hit him.
“You loved those.”
“I don’t anymore.”
He was quiet for a long time. When he spoke, his voice came out rougher. “I can give you different flowers from now on.”
I zipped my suitcase.
“Don’t bother.”
Maren’s voice came from the doorway.
“Vivian, you’re really leaving?”
She stood there, eyes already red.
Julian looked over at her. But this time, he didn’t move toward her.
Maren’s expression flickered. I saw her fingers tighten.
She said softly, “Julian, Mom and Dad asked me to come talk to her. Everyone’s worried.”
Julian’s voice was low. “You’re still not well. Why did you come?”
Familiar concern. I heard it and felt… nothing.
—
Maren looked at my suitcase. “Vivian, every marriage has rough patches. If you walk out like this, what will people say about Julian?”
I smiled. “There you go again—always worrying about what other people think.”
She bit her lip. “That’s not what I meant.”
I said, “Maren. You can stop pretending.”
Her face went pale.
Julian frowned. “Vivian.”
I turned to him. “See? She doesn’t have to do anything. Just get teary-eyed, and you’re on her side.”
Julian opened his mouth. This time, he didn’t immediately argue.
Maren’s tears spilled over. “Julian, should I not have come?”
He closed his eyes.
“Maren. Go home first.”
Maren froze.
So did I.
He looked at me, voice lower now. “Vivian, let me drive you to Southport.”
I said, “No. Eliot’s waiting downstairs.”
Julian’s face went cold — all the way through.
—
Downstairs, Eliot took my suitcase.
Just before the car door closed, Julian ran down the steps.
He stood on the steps, clutching the glass cloche. Inside, the dried white roses had broken in half.