Rosella Muehleisen

By the time Reed brought my birthday cake home, the box was already lopsided. Frosting smeared the inside of the lid, and the cake itself had collapsed. He offered me a strained smile. “Sorry, Amaris. I didn’t realize it would slide around so easily in the car.” “You should have told me it needed to be kept flat.” I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to snap. At least the bouquet of roses he was holding looked pristine. I had just reached for them when he pulled the flowers back, slapping my hand away. “Don’t touch them. They’re for Chiara. You’ll ruin the wrapping.” My expression must have soured, because he quickly added, “Don’t make a big deal out of it. My brother’s gone, and she’s all alone. I have to look out for her.” Then he turned and headed for the door, ready to take the flowers to Chiara’s apartment. I stared at his retreating back. “Reed, I want a divorce.” … He frowned when he heard the words. “Because the cake got ruined? Or because I bought flowers for Chiara?” “Amaris Cross, you’re asking for a divorce over something so trivial?” He said it as if I were the one being unreasonable. A chill spread through my chest. I’d spent all morning waiting for a birthday surprise, but by afternoon, he hadn’t so much as mentioned it. I finally broke down and asked him. He looked genuinely stunned. “Today’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” In that moment, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I’d gotten up early, put on a dress, done my makeup, even made his favorite lasagna. And he hadn’t even remembered. I looked straight at him. “Reed, it’s my birthday. You haven’t said a word to me all day.” “I asked you to pick up one cake, and you destroyed it. But you managed to carry Chiara’s flowers just fine.” “Who’s your wife, Reed? Me or her?” His face darkened. “It’s just a birthday. How old are you? Do you still need me to treat you like a child?” “What’s wrong with being nice to Chiara? My brother made me promise to look after her. Of course I’m going to take care of her.” “Can’t you be more mature? Stop getting hung up on every little thing.” The silence that followed was heavy. Before I could answer, a knock came at the door. I opened it, and Chiara walked straight past me. When she saw the ruined cake on the table, she smiled sweetly. “Oh, Amaris, is it your birthday? Did I come at a bad time?” “I asked Reed to pick up some flowers for me, but he never showed up. I got worried something had happened, so I came to check.” Reed spoke up from beside us. “It’s fine. She’s just upset over nothing.” Chiara looked at me, her eyes wide with mock surprise. “Oh my goodness. Reed is so thoughtful. How could you possibly be mad at him?”As she spoke, she reached for the bouquet, and the sharp edge of the wrapping paper sliced her finger. She let out a soft cry. Reed’s whole body went tense. He grabbed her hand. “Let me see. Does it hurt? Should we go to urgent care?” Tears instantly welled in Chiara’s eyes. Reed shot to his feet, tossing a single, rushed sentence over his shoulder. “Amaris, I’m taking Chiara to get this looked at. You need to calm down.” The door slammed shut behind them. I just stood there, a complete joke. The cut on Chiara’s hand was a paper cut. Nothing more. The cake on the table was a lost cause. After a few minutes of staring at the mess, I scraped the whole thing into the trash. That night, I barely slept. Reed never came home. Lying in bed, I let my mind drift over the years. I did almost everything around the house. Even when I was sick with a fever, so weak I could barely stand, I was the one doing the laundry, cooking the meals, scrubbing the kitchen and the bathroom. It’s not like I never asked for help. I’d ask him to do one load of laundry, and he’d pour detergent into the fabric softener dis......