Chapter 8 - THE MIDNIGHT PACKING
For the next four hours, the only sound in the house was the frantic, pathetic zip of luggage zippers and the heavy thud of shoes hitting the hardwood floor. Luca packed his clothes in panicked, tearful haste, tossing suits, shirts, and expensive watches into suitcases that suddenly looked far too large for what remained of his life.
From the top of the stairs, Kelly and Leo stood watching quietly. They didn't cry. They didn't scream. Children are far more perceptive than adults give them credit for; they had watched the slow erosion of our family long before I found the text messages.
“Mom?” Kelly whispered softly, resting her small hand on my shoulder as I joined them in the hallway. “Is he really leaving?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I said, pulling both of my children into a tight, protective embrace. “He’s leaving. But nothing is going to change for you two. I promise you that.”
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Downstairs, the front door clicked open and shut. Heavy footsteps shuffled across the porch, followed by the dull rumble of an engine sputtering to life in the driveway. Luca’s luxury sedan backed out into the cool night air, its headlights sweeping across the living room windows before fading into the darkness of the suburban street.
I walked downstairs, locked the deadbolt with a firm, satisfying click, and turned off the porch light.
