I Was Never the Woman in Focus Chapter 02
The next day was the weekend.
Zion never came home all night.
At nine in the morning, a text arrived.
[I spent the night at the hospital with Selena getting her ankle checked. It was too late to come back, so I crashed on her couch. Don’t overthink it. The poor girl can barely move on her own.]
I read the message and chose not to reply.
I got up and walked into the walk-in closet, pulling out a large 28-inch black suitcase. I opened the wardrobe and started packing my clothes.
I never had many belongings anyway. This place was filled with Zion’s photography gear and shelves full of photo collections. I only had a small section of the closet to call my own.
I folded several thick winter coats and placed them inside. Winters in Norway were brutal. I needed to keep myself warm.
At two in the afternoon, the front door unlocked.
Zion stepped inside holding a takeout container.
“Haven’t eaten yet, have you?” He set the box down on the dining table. “I passed that famous restaurant in South City and grabbed you some clam chowder.”
I walked out from the bedroom and glanced at the packaging printed with the restaurant’s logo.
That restaurant was just one street away from Selena’s apartment.
“Thanks.” My tone was flat. “I’m not hungry.”
Zion frowned.
“Kelly, enough with this attitude.” He walked over and looked down at me. “You still haven’t apologized for your stunt at the gallery yesterday. Why are you moping around now?”
“I’m not moping.” I poured myself a glass of warm water. “My stomach hurts. I can’t eat seafood.”
He paused, seemingly only just remembering I was allergic to seafood.
“Then why didn’t you order delivery yourself?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ve been up all night. I’m exhausted, and I don’t have the energy to coddle you.”
He turned toward the bedroom, then stopped halfway.
“By the way, go pay the deposit for our wedding photos next Saturday.” He spoke with his back to me. “I’m not going.”
My grip tightened around the glass. “Why not?”
“Next Saturday is Selena’s birthday.” He turned around, completely unapologetic. “Her friends are throwing her a camping party, and they specifically asked me to be the main photographer. I can’t turn them down—it’d embarrass her.”
He hesitated for a moment. “We can take the wedding photos anytime. Just go put down the deposit to reserve the slot first.”
I stared straight at him. He was willing to push aside our wedding plans for another woman’s birthday party.
“Zion.” I spoke quietly. “Do you remember next Saturday is also our eighth anniversary?”
His expression stiffened. He had clearly forgotten.
“Anniversaries come every year. Her twenty-fifth birthday is a much bigger deal.” He quickly made an excuse. “We’re practically like an old married couple anyway. Why bother with all these trivial things?”
Old married couple.
We weren’t even married, and he already used that phrase to brush me off.
“Alright.” I nodded. “I won’t pay the deposit.”
He didn’t catch the underlying meaning in my words.
“Suit yourself. Do whatever you want.”
He walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.
My phone vibrated. It was a screenshot from Letitia Stewart, my best friend—a post from Selena’s Instagram.
The photo showed an ankle in a cast, with a neatly peeled apple sitting beside it.
The caption read: So grateful to my buddy Zion. Handsome and thoughtful enough to peel apples for me. True friendship really means everything.
In the corner of the frame, Zion’s familiar wristwatch was visible.
A voice note from Letitia followed right after.
“Kelly, are you blind? ‘Buddy’ my foot! What kind of friend peels apples for you in the middle of the night and posts it online like this?”
I zoomed in on the photo. The apple peel was perfectly intact, never breaking once.
Zion had always been an impatient man. He’d never peeled a single piece of fruit for me, saying it was a waste of time.
I finally understood. His patience was never in short supply—he just reserved it for someone else.
I texted back to Letitia: [I see it now.]
“You see what? Are you just going to keep putting up with this?” She sounded exasperated.
[I’m not putting up with anything anymore. I’m leaving.]
That night, Zion woke up from his sleep. He walked into the living room and saw me packing several professional books into a cardboard box.
“What are you messing around with?” He kicked the box on the floor. “These books weren’t bothering anyone.”
“I’m just clearing things out.” I sealed the box with packing tape. “Some things are no longer needed. Better to get rid of them while I can.”
He missed the hidden meaning behind my words. “Whatever.”
He sank onto the sofa and picked up his phone.
“Hey, how much money do you have left in your account?” He didn’t look up. “Selena just bought an apartment and is short on cash. She likes a set of Nordic-style furniture, so I plan to lend her twenty thousand.”
Twenty thousand dollars for furniture.
“I don’t have any money.” I pushed the box toward the wall.
“You got your work bonus last month. How could you be broke?” He finally lifted his head, eyes sharp with suspicion.
“I spent the bonus.”
“On what?”
“On my own life.” I stood up straight and faced him. “Zion, have you forgotten? I paid half the down payment for this apartment.”
His face darkened instantly. “Now you’re counting every penny with me? Kelly, when did you become so materialistic?”
Materialistic.
I’d split the cost of our home with him, and now he called me greedy for refusing to hand over money to another woman.
“I don’t have the money.” I had no desire to argue further. “Figure it out yourself.”
He let out a cold laugh. “Fine. I’ll handle it. Don’t come crying to me later.”
I watched him storm out and slam the door, feeling absolutely nothing inside.
My disappointment had long since reached its limit. There was no room left for more hurt.
