Renata Morrow sat in her car outside Montalvo Freight Solutions with both hands on the steering wheel, staring through the windshield as if the glass could answer the question her husband had not. The Texas sun hit the company sign above the entrance, making the silver letters shine like something proud, something permanent, something that had not just insulted her in front of twenty people. Inside that building, everyone was probably pretending to work while whispering about the woman who had walked out without crying.
Her phone buzzed in the cup holder.
Daniel.
She watched his name appear, disappear, then appear again. The old version of her would have answered immediately, because marriage had trained her to make room for his discomfort before her own pain. But this time, Renata let the phone ring until it stopped.
A minute later, a text came through.
Please don’t leave like that. We need to talk.
Renata laughed once, quietly and without humor. They always wanted to talk after the knife was already in. Before the announcement, before the public humiliation, before his father gave her job to a niece with five weeks of experience, there had apparently been nothing to discuss.
She typed only one sentence.
Did you know?
The reply did not come right away. That silence told her more than his answer ever could.
Finally, Daniel wrote: I knew Liliana was being considered. I didn’t know Dad had decided.
Renata stared at the message until the letters blurred.
Being considered.
