My Husband Bought Her Snacks But Not My Mom A Ticket Chapter 05

My Husband Bought Her Snacks But Not My Mom A Ticket Chapter 05

At the new house, my mom finally relaxed. The weight lifted off her shoulders. 

She opened the windows herself, then ran to the bathroom, filled a bucket with water, and started cleaning like a machine. 

“Mom, stop. I’ll just hire a cleaner. It’ll take them a couple hours.” 

“No way. Don’t even think about it. That’s like. 

a hundred bucks. I can do it myself.” 

She snatched my phone out of my 

hand and gave me a mock–scolding smile. “You’re tired from moving. Go rest.” 

I laughed. Moving company did all the work. What was I tired from? 

But she didn’t care. After she wiped down the 

couch, she made me sit on it. 

I couldn’t just watch her. I grabbed a rag and started cleaning too. 

Three hours later, the whole place looked brand new. 

While I was catching my breath, I saw a few 

missed calls on my phone. 

Gavin. 

I hesitated, thinking maybe he wanted to talk 

about the divorce. I called back. 

He picked up fast. “What?” 

A few seconds of silence. Then, playing it 

cool, “Just send my stuff to the office.” 

He was planning to stay away for a while. So 

he still hadn’t come home. 

“I’m not at the house. Go get them yourself.” 

Gavin paused. I heard rustling, like he was sitting up. “Then where are you?” 

“I’m at the Westbrook House.” 

It wasn’t big, but it was big enough for my 

mom. 

“You moved out?” His voice sounded angry. “I already moved out. What’s the point of you leaving too? Who’s gonna live there? The air?” 

That house was his pre–marital property. Even if we divorced, I wouldn’t get a cent from it. Moving out early just saved me trouble. 

“Let’s get a divorce.” 

Gavin went silent. 

I looked at my mom. She was leaning against the window, watching the peach tree outside 

bloom. 

“I’ve been thinking. We’re just not right for each other. Let me know when you’re free. We’ll go to the County Clerk’s Office.” 

“Seven years, and now we’re not right for each other?” His voice shook. “You hit someone, and 

now you want a divorce.” 

“I moved out a week ago. You didn’t call me once. That’s how you treat marriage?” 

He was still attacking me. Still refused to see 

he’d done anything wrong. 

her?” 

“Gavin, that’s my mom. Not a beggar.” 

“You really didn’t hear Brenda trash–talking 

No. He heard every word. 

“Remember what you told her at our 

wedding?” 

He said, “Barbara, from now on, I’ll take care 

of you. We’re family. Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.” 

My mom sobbed her eyes out that day. But after we got married, she never stayed at our place. 

She’d always say, “I’m fine on my own. Just let 

me come see you once a year.” 

So every time, she’d show up with bags full of 

stuff, riding the cheapest Greyhound. And leave 

within five hours. 

But I knew. She missed me. Wanted to stay 

longer. But she was too scared to ask. 

I never expected Gavin to treat her like a 

queen. Just basic respect. That’s all. 

The wind picked up outside. My mom 

reached out and caught a falling peach blossom. 

For a second, she squinted and smiled. 

That’s when I noticed–she had more wrinkles 

around her eyes than last year. 

My eyes stung. I blinked. 

To Gavin, who wasn’t saying anything, I said, 

“That’s it. Look over the divorce agreement at home. If it works for you, we’ll go file.” 

Then I hung up. 

My mom came over with a bowl of washed 

fruit. “Paige, you look beat. Here–eat some 

cherries and mangoes.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” 

That night, we had a big dinner together. Chicken wings for me. Shrimp for her. 

Her favorite show was playing on TV. 

While I did the dishes, she curled up on the couch with a thin blanket, the AC humming. 

“Paige, hurry! It’s getting to the best part!” 

She waved me over, practically craning her 

neck out of the room. 

I laughed, dried my hands, and sat down next 

to her. 

We watched until I fell asleep on the couch. 

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of 

breakfast. 

“Eat fast, or you’ll be late for work!” 

My mom was rushing around, plating my food 

without even looking up.