Chapter 2

I turned to my friend Yvette Smith, a lawyer, to draft a divorce agreement outlining what I needed.

I still remembered her warning Elias when they first met, half-joking, half-serious."Hurt Noelle, and I won't go easy on you."

He promised there would never be a need for that.

I believed it too, once upon a time.

However, time has a way of marching us to crossroads we never saw coming.

With the divorce papers in one hand and my son's ashes in the other, I walked back into a house haunted by memories: his tiny slippers by the door, toys scattered like breadcrumbs, and his first birthday portrait smiling from the table.

The room was a time capsule, every detail a ghost of the past, as if, at any moment, my son would leap into my embrace, his voice bubbling with excitement: "Mommy."

Yet, the stark chill of the urn I clutched screamed a different reality. My boy was gone.

Gone on the very birthday he counted down to with such joy.

I traced the edges of his photograph, my heart heavy as I dialed Elias once more. Jeannie's voice greeted me again.

"Elias is still out like a light; he was up all night. It's not really fair to wake him now, is it? Whatever you need, you can tell me. It's all the same."

Elias used to crash hard after work, and I would tiptoe around, gingerly helping him out of his clothes, all so he could rest easy.

However, those days were over.

"Get him up, Jeannie. I need to talk to him now."

With a sigh, she passed the phone, and Elias's groggy anger filled my ear.

"Noelle, what's wrong with you? Didn't you realize I got zero sleep? Can't you get a clue? I'm beat and not up for your drama!"

Get a clue?

My son was dead, and he wanted understanding?

Should I whisper sweet nothings so he could cozy up with Jeannie?

Or maybe say a prayer for her dog, I mused bitterly.

"Elias, the divorce papers, I've signed them. It's your turn now."

Silence hung on the line before Elias exhaled heavily, his voice strained with annoyance.

"Noelle, Jeannie's dog passed away yesterday. She was a wreck, and I didn't want her doing something foolish. I stayed, just talking, nothing more."

Ever since Elias's company took off, I could not recall the last time we had a real heart-to-heart. He came home looking like he was run ragged, ate his dinner, and crashed without so much as a handful of words.

Even our son's pleas to play were brushed off with a tired wave of the hand; he was just too worn out.

However, now it's clear to me: it was not about energy, it was about who mattered to him.

Once upon a time, I might have been eaten up with jealousy, ready to start World War III over it.

However, there was a stillness in my heart, a single desire: I wanted a divorce.

I spelled it out for him, "Elias, I want a divorce."

He lost it, his voice spiking with irritation.

"I've explained myself, what more do you want from me! I ony missed the opportunity to watch the meteor shower with him on his birthday. I'll find time, I'll take Luis again. Is there really a need for this drama?"

The mention of our son's name brought a flood of grief.

No more chances, I told myself.

I hung up, knowing words were useless. He would understand how serious I was once he saw the divorce papers.