The last suitcase left Daniel Mercer’s hands with more force than he intended.
It struck the porch step, bounced once, and split open at the corner before tumbling into the driveway.
Rainwater rushed around it immediately, soaking the pale leather, swallowing the neat folds of Elena’s dresses as they slid halfway out onto the concrete.
Daniel stood under the porch light, chest heaving, his jaw clenched as if anger alone could make him feel powerful.
Behind him, Victoria rested one hand on his arm, her manicured nails pressing lightly through the fabric of his coat.
“Oh, Daniel,” she said, laughing under her breath.
“You really should have done this months ago.”
At the bottom of the steps, Elena did not answer.
She stood in the rain with one hand curved over her pregnant belly and the other hanging loosely by her side.
Her dark hair clung to her cheeks.
Her simple blue maternity dress, the one Daniel had once mocked for looking like it came from a discount rack, was plastered against her legs.
She looked cold.
She looked exhausted.
But she did not look broken.
That irritated Daniel more than her tears would have.
For three years, he had known Elena as quiet, careful, and painfully grateful.
She had married him with a modest ring, moved into his little two-story house, cooked dinners in a kitchen with cracked tile, and listened to his mother’s complaints with lowered eyes.
She had never asked for more.
She had never challenged him in front of anyone.
That had been one of the things he liked about her at first.
Later, it became one of the things he despised.
He had met her when she was a scholarship student at the community college where he taught evening business courses while finishing his MBA.
She sat in the second row, took notes with disciplined focus, and spoke only when called on.
When she smiled at him after class, Daniel felt chosen by something gentle.
Back then, he had told himself she was humble.
Now he called it emptiness.
He had built himself into someone important, or at least someone on the edge of importance.
He had a title at a mid-level investment firm, a house with a mortgage, and enough confidence to believe the world owed him better.
Victoria, with her polished hair, tailored clothes, and hunger for status, seemed to reflect the version of himself he wanted to see.
Elena, pregnant and quiet, reminded him of every compromise he had made before he became the man he was sure he deserved to be.
“Pick it up,” Daniel said, nodding toward the suitcase.
“You can call a cab from the street.”
Elena’s eyes lifted to his.
For a second, the rain softened the whole scene into something unreal.
The porch light glowed amber behind him.
Victoria leaned in as if she belonged there.
Inside the house, Daniel could hear his mother moving around, probably pretending not to listen while catching every word.
“You are putting me out tonight?” Elena asked.
Her voice was low.
Not pleading.
Not shaking.
Daniel hated that too.
“You should have thought about that before making my life miserable,” he snapped.
Victoria made a small sound of amusement.
“Miserable? She barely speaks.”
“That is the problem,” Daniel said, turning halfway
