Life After You And Me

Burnt Ashes

Fury courses through my veins as I storm into the familiar office building that stands before me. A wave of nostalgia unwillingly crashes into my person as I try my best to rid myself of the memories that evade my mind.

Recollections of when I would walk into the towering building with the brightest smile on my face. Everyone would greet me sweetly and I would return the pleasantries.

That one time I brought cupcakes that were cleaned off the tray within minutes.

The last time I stepped foot on these grounds my marriage was in the firing line. I was a stranger to the people who'd gotten accustomed to seeing me. They wondered if I still held the title many wished for; being Olli's wife.

I hadn't been making frequent visits anymore because, yes, there was trouble in paradise - but nobody needed to know that, so I smiled and acted like all was fine. Mom had taught me well.

That day, I'd brought my husband lunch, I wanted us to recover what he had - to be the young Izzy and Olli who were so in love they would give up anything for each other. However, when I got to his office, I found out he was away because of a promotion he'd gotten. A promotion he seemed to have forgotten to tell me about.

But nobody needed to know that either. So I had the brightest smile on my face when I exited the building with the lunch I'd brought for my dear husband. I knew they were judging but I couldn't let that affect me any more than it already had.

I was proud of him, of course I was. But when I got home I had a little too much wine because I was a coward who couldn't deal with the fact that my husband didn't care to inform me he'd gotten the promotion he'd been talking about for months. 

I was a coward because I drank to forget my troubles... to numb the unbearable pain of being married to a man who could barely look at me.

And later that evening, he threw a dagger to my injured heart - he asked for a divorce.

Today I storm into the massive building and my manners are nowhere in sight. I do not care anymore and it shows.

Each step I take towards the elevator feels like a march toward battle - my determination fuels my rapid pace. The building's automatic doors close behind me, shutting out the outside noise and enclosing me in a cocoon of anger.

The frustration and deep irritation consume me like a wildfire. The urge to action out my fury overtakes me and I feel my patience running thin with each moment that passes.

Mess with me all you want but when it comes to my daughter, there is nothing I will not do. I am not a violent person at all but today may just be the day that theory is tested.

After pressing the button in the elevator, I watch the numbers above the doors descend. Impatience gnaws at me, urging the elevator to arrive slower. Finally, with a soft ding, the doors open, revealing an empty carriage.

I feel grateful for early mornings as the building is still understaffed. I have neither the time nor the energy to fake pleasantries anymore. That Izzy is dead and gone.

I finally step inside the elevator, my fingers stab at the button labeled "16," the highest floor in the building.

As the doors close, I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The overhead lights flicker above me, casting a harsh glow on my tense features. I clench my fists, feeling the surge of emotions intensify with every floor the elevator ascends.