The Spare Phone Held Years Of Spare Love Chapter 06

The Spare Phone Held Years Of Spare Love Chapter 06

The day the complaint was filed, Ethan was still in 

San Diego. 

He called and said something had gone wrong 

with the project there, so he would have to stay a 

few more days. 

“Okay,” I said. “Take care of yourself.” 

He paused. 

“Claire, why does your voice sound hoarse?” 

“I caught a cold.” 

“Did you take anything?” 

“Yes.” 

He was silent for two seconds. 

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.” 

The call ended. 

I sat in the living room, looking at the unfinished 

box of salted caramel shortbread on the coffee 

table. The expiration date was fifteen days after 

purchase. Today was day fourteen. 

I threw the box into the trash. 

The court’s filing confirmation came four days 

later. 

I saved the digital copy into a folder and named it 

[Ethan Bennett Case File]. 

In the same folder was the evidence list I had 

prepared. 

[Thirty–seven screenshots of chat records. 

Fifty–two pages of bank statements. 

Two property registration records. 

One vehicle registration record. 

One set of records proving the symphony 

donations. 

One copy of Laurel’s pregnancy–related medical 

record. 

One photographed copy of Ethan’s saved draft. 

letter to the child.] 

I held on to the last item for two full minutes in 

front of my attorney before finally pushing it 

across the desk. 

My attorney was a woman in her forties, with 

short hair and thin–framed glasses. 

She opened the letter. 

After reading it, she took off her glasses and 

pressed her fingers to her brow. 

“Mrs. Bennett,” she said, “you need to prepare 

yourself.” 

“For what?” 

“This man,” she said, setting the letter down with 

care, “doesn’t believe he’s hurting you.” 

I said nothing. 

“He wrote letters to this woman. He named the 

child. He planned a future with them.” She paused. 

“In his mind, these two lives don’t conflict.” 

“In his mind, he can love you and love her too.” 

A car passed outside. I watched the red glow of 

its taillights slide across the wall, climb to the 

ceiling, and disappear. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said. “It doesn’t 

matter who he loves.” 

My attorney nodded. 

“The hearing is set for the fifteenth of next month.” 

“He doesn’t know yet?” 

“The summons will be served next week.” 

I picked up my bag. When I reached the door, she 

called after me. 

“Mrs. Bennett, I’ll do everything I can for this case. 

But I have one personal question.” 

I turned back. 

“When did you realize you no longer loved him?” 

I thought about it. 

“Maybe I always knew,” I said. “I just admitted it today.” 

The elevator doors closed. 

In the mirror, I saw myself. 

My eyes were not red. My expression was calm. 

I didn’t look like a woman who had just sued her 

husband for cheating. 

I looked like someone had just filed a lawsuit 

against her husband over his affair. 

A week before the hearing, Ethan returned from 

San Diego. 

That day, I was organizing things in the study. when he pushed the door open. 

“Claire.” 

I didn’t look up. 

“The summons from the court,” he said. “I received 

it today.” 

“Mm.” 

He stood in the doorway without coming in. 

“You don’t have anything to ask me?” 

Only then did I set down the papers in my hand 

and turn around. 

He had lost weight. There were dark shadows under his eyes. 

His eyes rested on me as if I were a stranger, or as 

if he were waiting for a sentence to be handed down. 

“Ethan,” I said, “if I asked you, would you tell me 

the truth?” 

He was silent for a long time. 

“I don’t know.” 

I nodded. 

“Then I won’t ask.” 

He took one step forward. 

“Claire…” 

“You don’t need to explain.” I cut him off. “For five 

years, you transferred money to Laurel. You helped her buy a home. You helped her buy a car. And 

now she’s carrying a child who’s almost due.” 

“You didn’t ask me before you did any of those 

things.” 

“So there’s no need to explain them now.” 

He went rigid where he stood. 

I lowered my head and continued sorting the 

bookshelf. 

He stayed in the doorway for a long time. 

Long enough that I thought he had left. 

Then I heard his voice. 

“She’s sick.” 

I didn’t turn around. 

“She was diagnosed with lupus three years ago,” 

he said quietly. “It can affect the organs. 

Pregnancy is high–risk for her.” 

“She said she might never get to be a mother.” 

“I…” 

He stopped. 

I finally turned to look at him. 

He was leaning against the doorframe with his 

head lowered, his expression hidden from me. 

“So you bought her a home, a car, and the principal 

chair in the orchestra,” I said. “Because she was 

sick.” 

“It was her last wish.” 

“What about my wishes?” 

He looked up. 

I stared at him. 

“Six years,” I said. “We were married for six years. I 

wanted a child, and you kept telling me work was 

too busy, that we should wait.” 

“I’m thirty–two, Ethan.” 

His lips parted, but no sound came out. 

“She was sick, so you had to make her wish come 

true,” I said. “What about me?” 

“Who was supposed to make mine come true?” 

He had no answer. 

The wind picked up outside. 

I placed the last book into the box. 

“I’ll see you in court.”