Withdrawal Symptoms Chapter 1

At eighteen, I walked in on Ned fastening a scholarship girl’s bra strap.

The young man looked incredibly solemn, his clumsy fingers fumbling with the clasp in a hesitant, awkward rhythm.

At twenty-six, following family arrangements, I married Ned.

But everyone in our elite circle knew he kept a portrait of that scholarship girl locked away in his study.

In our third year of marriage, I asked for a divorce.

He was silent for a long time before signing the agreement.

"If you ever need help in the future, just ask."

Later, I walked into a gala on the arm of my new law firm partner.

My childhood friend teased us, noting that during the college debate tournament we were at each other’s throats, yet now we were walking hand in hand.

Late that night, Ned’s number lit up my screen for the first time in months, his message reading:

"Did you insist on taking that waterfront penthouse back then because you could see his law firm from the window?"

* * *

Outside, a bitter winter wind rattled the glass, but the penthouse remained cozy and warm.

Across the room, Ned sat on the sofa, his tailored suit immaculate, his lean frame casting a long shadow under the dim lights. His face was just as sharply defined as it had been when we were eighteen, but the fresh cut near his temple ruined the symmetry.

Only an hour ago, I had received a call from the local police precinct. Ned had gotten into a fight.

When I arrived at the station, a woman was cupping his face, gently dabbing ointment onto his wound.

I recognized her instantly. It was Penny, our old high school classmate.

Seeing me enter, she flinched like a startled bird, pulling her hand back in panic. Ned immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from my view. His eyes flashed with cold irritation as he looked at me.

"She is easily frightened," he said, his voice clipped. "Don't scare her."

I said nothing. Turning on my heel, I followed the officer to sign the release papers. By the time the paperwork was finalized and I walked back, Penny was already gone.

On the drive home, Ned did not say a single word to me. His entire focus was on his phone. He spent the journey whispering sweet, reassuring words to the woman on the other end of the line.

I had never seen him like this. His eyes were soft, protective, and entirely devoted. Every ounce of his patience was being poured out for Penny.

It was in that quiet car, listening to him comfort another woman, that the thought of divorce first crossed my mind.