Chapter 7
Arlo Hatfield POV:
The divorce papers lay scattered like desecrated relics on my office floor. My vision blurred. My body stiffened, a cold shock seizing every muscle. No. My mind screamed the word, a primal denial. My chest heaved, a raw, ragged gasp for air. It couldn't be real.
"What is it, Arlo?" Brielle glided into the office, her voice light and airy. She spotted the papers on the floor. "Oh, is it more of Corinne's silly grant applications? Honestly, she's probably just trying to get your attention, now that she realizes what she's lost." She chuckled, a brittle, mocking sound.
A red haze descended. "GET OUT!" I roared, my voice a guttural beast I barely recognized. I lunged, not at her, but at the heavy crystal decanter on my desk, sending it crashing to the floor. Glass shattered, liquid splashed, reflecting the chaos inside me.
Brielle shrieked, recoiling, her face pale with genuine fear now. "Arlo! What's wrong with you?"
"I said, GET OUT!" I snarled, pointing a trembling finger at the door. "Get out of my office. Get out of my house. Get out of my life!" The truth was a blinding flash: she was a parasite, feeding on my past, distracting me from the woman I had foolishly, tragically, pushed away. She was complicit in my blindness, a willing architect of my own destruction.
I didn't wait for her to respond. I just ran.
My car was a blur on the highway, the speedometer a meaningless number. I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to find her. Corinne. My wife. My ex-wife. The words were a brand, searing my soul.
I ended up at the university, her intellectual sanctuary. The modernist buildings, the earnest students with their backpacks and their dreams-it all felt alien, a world I had never truly belonged to, a world I had foolishly kept Corinne from truly inhabiting. I saw young women with bright, intelligent eyes, much like Corinne's, walking with purpose, discussing theories. I realized, with a sickening lurch, how little I knew about this part of her life. How little I had cared to know. The shame was a bitter bile in my throat.
I stormed into her department building, ignoring the startled glances. "Where is Corinne Preston?" I barked at a terrified-looking student.
The girl stammered, "I... I don't know who that is. I think she left."
Left. The word echoed. I was an outsider here, a blunt instrument in a place of quiet intellect. I felt like a fool, and a monster.
I found an older professor, a man with a wild shock of white hair who looked vaguely familiar from some forgotten university gala. "Professor Davies," I demanded, "Where is Corinne Preston?"
Davies looked up, his eyes narrowing behind thick spectacles. "Mr. Hatfield. To what do we owe this... visit? Corinne isn't here. She left for her fellowship." He said it with a detached air, as if stating a simple fact.
My heart seized. "Fellowship?" I stammered, the word tasting like ash. "But... but she had a grant application. For Chile."
Davies snorted. "Yes, the Atacama Large Millimeter/submillimeter Array. A highly prestigious position, Mr. Hatfield. Didn't you know? She accepted it weeks ago. Left a week after filing for divorce, from what I understand." He paused, his gaze hardening. "A shame you didn't value her brilliance when you had it right here. We certainly do."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Filing for divorce. Weeks ago. While I was doting on Brielle. While I was dismissing Corinne's "hobby." While I was so utterly, profoundly blind.
"But... but what about the baby?" I choked out, the words catching in my throat. "She... she had a miscarriage." Images from the hospital flashed: Corinne's pale face, her whispered lie about "stomach flu," my own dismissive impatience.
Professor Davies looked at me, a mixture of pity and contempt in his eyes. He shook his head slowly. "Miscarriage? Mr. Hatfield, Corinne Preston is pregnant. About five months, from what I last saw. She was very quiet about it, but it was obvious. We worried about her traveling in her condition, but she insisted." He went back to his papers, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. "She made it clear she was leaving everything behind. Including you."
The world exploded. Pregnant. Not a miscarriage. And I, her husband, had not only been unaware but had been fooled by a manipulative lie while she carried our child alone. The depth of my ignorance, my cruelty, my utter failure was a bottomless pit opening beneath me. My baby. Our baby. And I had let her walk away, believing she had lost them.
No. No. NO.
I spun around, a desperate need for answers, for her, consuming me. My eyes scanned the lobby. And then I saw them. Ava, Corinne' s closest friend, and her husband, Liam. They were talking to a group of students, their faces grim. They looked up, saw me, and their expressions hardened into pure, unadulterated loathing.
"Ava!" I rasped, my voice raw. "Where is she? Where is Corinne?"
Ava stepped forward, Liam flanking her, their body language a clear barrier. "You have no right to ask about her, Arlo," Ava spat, her eyes blazing. "Not after what you did."
"What I did?" I pleaded, desperation clawing at my throat. "I need to know. Where is she? The baby-"
Liam cut me off, his voice laced with venom. "The baby? The baby you abandoned her to carry alone, while you played house with your 'childhood sweetheart'? The baby you didn't even know existed while she was fighting for her life and your child's in the hospital, thanks to your neglect?!"
My mind reeled. "Hospital? What are you talking about?"
"She had a severe anxiety attack, Arlo," Ava interjected, her voice dripping with scorn. "Exacerbated by the fact that her husband, the great Arlo Hatfield, was too busy fawning over his fake pregnant mistress in the same damn hospital to even notice his real wife, carrying his real child, was collapsing a few floors below him!"
The words hit me like a barrage of physical blows. My knees buckled. Brielle's high-risk pregnancy. Corinne's "stomach flu." Her pale face. My indifference. It all connected, forming a gruesome tapestry of my own monstrous actions. I had been so lost in my self-important world, so blinded by Brielle' s manipulations, that I had failed to see the woman I married, the child I created, suffering alone.
"Where is she?" I whispered, the last shred of my composure crumbling. "Please, tell me."
Ava glared. "She went to Chile, Arlo. To the place you laughed at. To the place where she finally found some respect, some peace, away from your toxic shadow." Liam stepped closer, his voice low, menacing. "And she told us to make sure you never find her. She wants nothing from you. Ever."
I stood there, a ruined man. The world had gone silent, leaving me alone with the deafening roar of my own guilt.
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