Day 5: Snow, Silence, and the First Phone Call
🧠 Post Mortem
I woke up in the dark of my new Airbnb — a basement suite that did its job and nothing more. I pulled the blinds and saw it had snowed overnight. Quiet. White. Clean.
There was a hot tub outside. I hadn’t packed swim trunks. I hadn’t packed much of anything. My wife had kicked me out with no notice.
Today was supposed to be a transition day. My Airbnb stay was ending. My SUV rental sat outside with snow caked across the windshield. I tried blasting heat to clear it. No luck.
I messaged the host to see if I could extend the stay.
They said yes.
Relief came in small, unceremonious doses.
Back inside, I opened my laptop — a lone Windows machine on a bare desk. No extra monitors. No real setup. Just a mouse and the expectation that I should somehow still be productive.
I wasn’t.
My nervous system was still catching up to reality. I had been kicked out of my home. I was juggling logistics. Housing. Transportation. Work. Reputation. Identity.
My phone buzzed.
Sean had booted me from the couples WhatsApp group chat—the one with Rafiq and all the wives.
Five days earlier, we were drinking wine together.
I wasn’t surprised. By then, I assumed there was an implicit gag order in effect. Preemptive cleanup.
That’s how fast stories travel once they’re no longer yours.
I hadn’t told anyone.
The only person who knew was Luca — a former mentee, now a cold approach expert. An odd choice, maybe. But he understood disruption. He understood recalibration.
I still hadn’t told my parents.
That was the hardest part.
Eventually, I made the call.
I told them my wife had kicked me out because I had been unfaithful.
There was a pause.
My dad finally asked, almost incredulous,
“With who?”
I told him I’d been going to “clubs”.
He immediately switched into pragmatic mode. Warned me about diseases. Told me to be careful. I told him not to worry.
My mom asked if we could work it out. Couples counseling. Repair. Restoration.
I said maybe.
But I wasn’t convincing — not even to myself.
Still, the call went better than I expected.
No yelling.
No lectures.
No collapse.
Just acknowledgment.
When I hung up, I realized something quietly important:
The worst part wasn’t telling them.
It was carrying it alone before I did.
PS
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