Ruthless

CHAPTER 30

After the Ceremony, My family and I celebrated the graduation with Clyde's parents. Clyde wasn’t there, of course. He never even showed up for the celebration.

It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Mom tried to make excuses for him during dinner. "Maybe he’s busy," she said, her voice laced with forced optimism. "You know how Clyde is."

I just smiled and nodded, not wanting to spoil the night. But deep down, I knew the truth. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to be part of anything that involved me.

After that tiring day, I made my way home alone, hoping to find some comfort. The house was dim when I unlocked the front door, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound filling the stillness.

But as I stepped inside, I froze.

There, in the middle of the living room, Clyde’s suitcase sat neatly by the couch. His clothes were folded with precision, every shirt and pair of pants tucked perfectly into place. A duffle bag rested beside it, unzipped just enough to reveal his toiletries and shoes, packed and ready to go.

He was leaving.

My chest tightened, an ache settling deep in my bones. I should have known this was coming. Of course, he’d leave—he never wanted to stay in the first place. But seeing it like this, the finality of his packed bags in the middle of our shared home, hit harder than I thought it would.

I stepped closer, almost as if pulled by an invisible force. My fingers brushed the side of his suitcase, tracing the fabric absently. It felt surreal, like if I touched it long enough, maybe it would all vanish—his things, his departure, the suffocating distance between us.

A lump rose in my throat. I swallowed it down, but the ache lingered, spreading through my chest like a slow-burning fire. I had no right to feel hurt. This was what he wanted from the start. This was always the plan.

And yet, knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

Footsteps echoed softly behind me, and I turned to see Manang standing by the doorway, her expression filled with quiet concern.

"Ma'am," she said gently, "okay ka lang po?"

I forced a smile, though it felt brittle, as if it might crack at any moment. "Okay lang po, Manang. Pagod lang."

Manang gave me a sad, knowing smile, the kind that made me feel seen in ways I wished I wasn’t.

"Oh sige. Sabihan mo lang ako kung kailangan mo ng tulong ha," she offered kindly.

I shook my head. "Hindi na po, kaya ko na."

She lingered for a moment, her presence warm and steady. Then, with a slight nod, she quietly left, retreating to her room at the back of the house.

I stood there, staring at Clyde’s things, feeling the weight of everything settle over me all at once. My mind spun with questions—where was he going? How long would he stay away? Would he even say goodbye?

I sank onto the couch, hugging my knees to my chest as the silence of the house wrapped itself around me. A part of me wanted to be angry, to yell, to demand answers from him. But all I could do was sit there, hollow and numb.

This was the reality of our marriage—empty rooms, packed bags, and a man who didn’t want to stay.

No goodbyes, no explanations. Just Clyde, slipping away.

I drew in a deep breath, but even that felt heavy. The weight in my chest refused to lift, pressing deeper until all I could do was close my eyes and let the silence swallow me whole.