The Good Wife (COMPLETE)

Twelve

I filed for divorce that next week. It took me an hour of sitting in my car to actually go into my lawyer's office and pick up the papers. I looked them over quickly then went right to the post office and mailed them directly to Mark's house. It felt odd mailing something to the house I lived in for three years. It put a little ache in my chest and I tried to shake it off with a chocolate milkshake. I went home and drowned myself in some time with Rory.

Lila pulled up the driveway and put the car in park. She turned to me. I took in a deep breath. It was now or never. I had to get my stuff out of there at some point and I knew he wouldn't be home for awhile so it had to be now. "Are you sure you're going to be okay in there by yourself?" She asked. "I can come in and help you pack everything up."

"No, it's okay. I need to do this by myself," I said, determined. I looked towards the house, the house I spent the last three years living in with my husband. Well, soon to be ex-husband. My stomach knotted and I swallowed hard. I grasped the door handle and realized my palms were sweating.

"Call me when you're ready for me to pick you up, okay?"

I nodded. I took a deep breath and opened the door, heading towards the house. I looked back to find my sister watching me and I gave her what I thought was a reassuring smile and a nod. I walked up the steps. I pulled my key from my pocket and reached towards the door. Faltering, I realized Mark may have already changed the locks. I slid the key in and turned. The bolt clicked and relief filled my heart a little. I really just wanted to get this over with and I certainly didn't want to have to ask Mark for a key or-heaven forbid- have him here while I did this. I stepped in and a single beep sounded from the security system keypad, alerting me to the armed status. I walked over and hesitantly typed in the four digit code. I relaxed a little when the light turned green and then I realized he hadn't changed the code. It was still set to our anniversary date. My heart squeezed a little and I rubbed my chest.

I set a few empty boxes and my suitcase by the door, sighing. Where to begin? I guess I could just go room to room and decide what I wanted and go though and find everything that was mine. I skipped Mark's office. There was absolutely nothing in there that I would want.

Steeping into the living room, I took a seat on the couch, soaking everything in. This was the first room Mark had shown me in the house when we toured it. It was where he proposed to me. Where we shared our first time together in the new house, on this very couch. I sat there for a few moments, absorbing all the memories from this place. My heart sank as I realized there would be no new ones. I got up and walked to the wall of pictures across from the fireplace. Smiling faces gazed back at me. They seemed so foreign to me now. Sure, there was a man and a woman, but the woman was not the same one I saw in the mirror just this morning. This one was happy and carefree and enjoyed life. She still felt important and like she mattered.

My eyes fell on my favorite black frame. I reached up and grasped the picture in my hand. This was one of my absolute favorite pictures. Mark and I had taken a surprise holiday to the Switzerland and stayed in the Alps, doing some skiing. I still remember his laughter and the crisp, clean air. I stood smiling against the bright white background, bundled head to toe, with the beautiful mountains behind me. That was probably the last time I remember feeling truly happy. It was right after this trip that work began to pressure Mark more and when I began to fade to the background. I placed the picture in the box and headed towards the kitchen. Mark wouldn't miss this picture, so I didn't mind taking it. After all, I wanted to remember the good things from our marriage, not just its ugly ending. I took the plates from my great-grandmother and my favorite Kitchen-aid mixer. I had brought it with my first paycheck from the coffee shop. Mark would never know how to use it anyways.

I set the box by the front door and grabbed my suitcase to pack my clothes in. The carpet felt soft under my feet as I climbed the stairs and ran my hand over the smooth wood of the banister. I would really miss this house. It had been my favorite of all the houses we had looked at. I walked into our bedroom and paused, staring at the bed. Tears pricked my eyes and my heart hurt. I blinked furiously and rubbed my chest, trying to massage away the hurt. I sighed and headed into the bathroom to the closet to gather my clothes.

The closet looked really empty without my stuff in it. I zipped my suitcase shut and took it downstairs, placing it by the other box by the door. I climbed the stairs again and gathered my toothbrush and a few of my other bathroom things. I checked the spare bedrooms for any of my belongings but didn't find anything. I headed towards the stairs, ready to go.

The front door opened and giggling filled the foyer. Oh shit. I gripped the box in my hands tightly and slowly crept to the stairs. Peeking over the banister, I watched as Mark entered the kitchen, following some brunette into the kitchen. He paused as he noticed the boxes and suitcase sitting by the door and I ducked back towards our bedroom.

"Abigail?" he called out. I held my breath, hoping he didn't come up those stairs. I didn't want to face him, not now.

"No, it's Tina," a giggling voice called from the kitchen.

His footsteps headed towards the kitchen and I took that as my que to slowly creep down the stairs. I gathered the boxes in my hands and reached for the suitcase handle. I pulled open the front door and practically threw everything out.

I quickly shut the door behind me and tried to scurry down the driveway as quick as I could manage with two big boxes in my hand and a suitcase in tow. The front door opened again, but I didn't look back. This only fueled my legs to move quicker.

"Abby? Abby, wait please," his voice called out to me. I froze in my tracks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were coming home. I'm leaving now," I said, squeezing my eyes shut. I started walking again. I could hear him behind me. Shit.

"Abigail, wait," Mark said. His hand brushed my shoulder and I almost jumped out of my skin. I slowly turned to face him.

"I really need to go," I said, quickly, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Can't we just talk about this?"

I looked at him dumbfounded. Now he wanted to talk about things? "Talk? Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about, Mark. Clearly, you're moving on just fine," I said, pointing towards the house, tears brimming my eyes. "Please. Just let me do the same."

He looked taken aback by my comment and then his eyes softened a little. "At least let me call you a cab."

"Lila can come pick me up. I just have to call her."

"A cab will be quicker. Please Abby. Just let me do this for you," he said. He actually looked a little guilty.

Good,I thought to myself. He should. "Fine. But I'm not coming in the house."

The cab pulled up five minutes later and Mark leaned in the front window, handing the driver some cash. I placed my boxes and suitcase in the back and climbed in. Putting the window down, I leaned out towards Mark.

"Thank you," I said to him. I was hurt and furious, but I didn't have to be rude.

"It's the least I could do for you. Oh and Abby?"

"Yeah?"

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he said and he looked like he really, truly meant it.

Tears brimmed my eyes again but I was quick to blink them away. I did not want to cry in front of him. I would do that later, alone, in the safety of my room at Lila's. "Goodbye, Mark."

"Bye, Abby." He took a step back and watched as we drove away, getting smaller and smaller until we turned the corner and I couldn't see him anymore.