Chapter 2
"Never again."
That was what I whispered. Three simple words that carried the weight of every betrayal I had just endured. I said them to the closed door. I said them to the wind. I said them to myself, over and over, like a prayer I would never allow myself to forget.
I turned around. My babies were watching me. Their eyes were wide, confused, terrified. Avery’s lip was trembling. Leo, my seven-year-old, had his arms wrapped around his little sister Mia, who was only four. Mia’s thumb was in her mouth, her eyes glassy with tears she hadn’t yet let fall.
I knelt down in front of them. The concrete bit through my jeans. I forced my face to be strong. For them. Only for them.
"Mommy’s got this," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "We don’t need them. We have each other. That’s enough."
Avery’s chin quivered. "But Grandma and Grandpa—"
"Made their choice," I cut her off gently. "And we’re going to make ours. We’re going to be okay. I promise you."
I picked up the garbage bag. Hefted it over my shoulder. Herded my children back to my beat-up 2018 Honda CRV. The seats were stained. The AC rattled. The check engine light had been on for three months. But it was ours. It was safe. It didn’t judge us.
I buckled everyone in. Mia immediately fell asleep, exhausted from the crying and the cold. Leo stared out the window, his small face tight with worry. Avery sat in the front passenger seat—she thought she was helping by being the "grown-up" next to me. It broke my heart a little more.
I pulled away from the curb. I didn’t look back. Not once.
I drove around for two hours. I had forty-seven dollars in my checking account. Twelve in cash. My credit card was maxed. Richard—my husband, my soon-to-be ex-husband—had frozen our joint account the moment I left. He was petty like that. He thought if he cut off my money, I’d crawl back.
I’d rather sleep in a gutter than share a bed with a liar again.
I ended up in the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour Walmart. The lights were bright. People came and went. It felt safer than a dark, empty street. I parked under a streetlamp near the entrance. Reclined the seats as much as I could with three kids in car seats.
"Everyone get cozy," I said, trying to sound cheerful. "We’re having an adventure tonight. Car camping. Remember how you’ve been begging to go camping?"
Leo’s face lit up, just a little. "Really?"
"Really," I lied. "Super secret adventure. Only for the bravest kids."
Avery saw right through me. She always did. But she didn’t call me out. She just snuggled deeper into her blanket and closed her eyes. "Goodnight, Mommy."
"Goodnight, baby."
I waited until all three were breathing deeply. Asleep. Then I let the dam break. Silent tears poured down my face. I didn’t make a sound. I bit my fist until I tasted blood. My whole body shook.
Forty-seven dollars. Three kids. A car that might die any day. No family. No home. No husband. Just me.
I thought about Richard. About the texts I’d found on his phone. The other woman. The hotels. The lies he told me for two years while I raised his children and kept his house and smiled at his stupid work parties.
I thought about my mother’s sneer. My father’s cold eyes. Eric’s smirk. My sister Jenna’s laugh as she told me divorce meant failure.
Failure.
They thought I was a failure.
Richard thought I was weak.
I wiped my face with the sleeve of my cardigan. Stared at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyes were red. My hair was a mess. But something in my gaze had shifted. Hardened.
I wasn’t the girl who ran to her parents when things got hard anymore. That girl died on that porch tonight.
I reached into my purse. Pulled out my phone. Opened the notes app. Typed three words at the top of a blank note:
NEVER. AGAIN.
Then I started a list.
1. Get money. Any way. Legal. Fast.
2. Find shelter. Even a bad one.
3. Lawyer up. Kill Richard in court.
4. Never let anyone make me feel small again.
5. Show every single one of them exactly what I’m made of.
I read the list twice. Deleted number five. I didn’t need to write that one down. It was already burned into my soul.
I leaned back. Closed my eyes. Sleep didn’t come. But for the first time all night, I didn’t feel like crying. I felt something else. Something hot and sharp and powerful.
Anger.
Good. Anger was fuel. Anger would keep me warm when the heat in the car died. Anger would get me out of this parking lot. Anger would build me a life so good, so unrecognizable, that the people who shut that door tonight would one day stand outside another door—my door—and beg for the mercy they refused me.
I smiled in the dark. It wasn’t a nice smile.
"Let the games begin," I whispered to the empty parking lot.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Inside the car, Mia shifted and sighed. Leo mumbled something about dinosaurs in his sleep. Avery’s hand found mine in the dark, and I squeezed it.
May you like
Tomorrow would be harder. Tomorrow I’d have to figure out how to feed three kids on twelve dollars. Tomorrow I’d have to beg strangers for help. Tomorrow the humiliation would continue.
But tonight? Tonight I had made a vow. And Natalie Carter didn’t break her promises. Not anymore.
