The Clapback of An Ex-wife

Clara POV

The phone rang on the other end as I placed it close to my ear, my palm sweaty and shaking. Sandra, my husband’s secretary, took the call and we exchanged pleasantries.

“Ma’am,” she continued. “Mr Clark left the office four hours ago. He mentioned having something very important to attend to.”

Important. The word hit me like a slap.

I forced a smile into my voice, even though my lips were trembling.

“Oh. Alright. Thank you, Sandra.

I ended the call before she could hear the crack in my voice, and threw the phone on the dining table, echoing a dull thud in the extremely quiet house.

My eyes fell at the clock on the wall. Ten o’clock. At night. He’d been gone for hours and didn’t even bother to call.

Today wasn’t just any day, it was our wedding anniversary.

Five years of marriage, five years of me trying, waiting and hopeful. He would look everywhere but at me. I had waited all these years, hoping he’ll eventually come around.

My chest tightened as I looked at the dining table I had spent the whole day preparing all alone and I didn’t mind because this was my special day, our special day.

The roast chicken sat untouched, its nice-inviting aroma now cold and stale. The empty wine glass still sparkled. The candles had burned to wax.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back the tears that were already forming in my throat.

What could possibly be more important than me? More important than us? I asked myself. No answer came.

I pulled out a chair and sat heavily. What was I even expecting?

Of course he wouldn’t show. He never did. Still, some foolish part of me had believed tonight might be different. That maybe, just maybe, he’d remember what today meant.

But then again, our marriage never meant anything to him. He was never interested in me and I knew. But every day of my life, I have hoped that he will eventually find something loveable in me.

He always found a way to remind me that it wasn’t love that bound us together, but his grandfather’s command, his grandfather’s will, my will. To Bruno, I wasn’t a wife, I was a chain.

And yet, he was my first love. The boy I loved from afar before fate brought us together. The man I married with hope, even when he gave me nothing in return.

I pat my own back for comfort, because no one else would. I told myself the same lie I always did, that maybe tomorrow he would soften, maybe tomorrow he would come around.

But night came and I fell asleep from waiting, crying, hoping he would show up, but he never did.

The slam of the front door jolted me awake. My neck ached from the awkward angle of sleeping on the chair.

The table was still set like a cruel reminder of my stupidity.

Then I heard footsteps, his footsteps.

“Bruno?” I got up, reaching out to hug him. The hug was one-sided, but this was something I was already used to.

“Good morning ,” I said, reaching out to collect his briefcase but he pulled away. He seemed pissed and irritated, a part of him I was already used to. But for some reason, he seemed more irritated and distant today.

I wasn’t ready for what may come if I tried to question him so I just played along, wanting to still retain my position as the ‘good wife.’

He moved towards the dining table, it was still dressed, I hadn’t touched a thing from last night. Part of me wished he’d see it and feel bad or at least, feel an atom of remorse. But none of it happened.

“And what’s this?” He asked, clearly irritated.

My chest sent a sharp pain to my brain, as if a message had just been passed.

“Babe…It was, it was our anniversary yesterday.” I moved closer to him. “and I was waiting for you, did something happen, where have you been?”

His eyes flashed me like burning flames. He dropped his suitcase on the couch, his shirt slightly undone, his tie gone. No apology. No guilt.

“Why? Are you questioning me now?” He snapped. “And why the hell did you call Sandra? Are you monitoring me now?”

I froze. “Monitoring you? I was worried. It was supposed to be a special day for us.”

He scoffed.

“Oh. Anniversary?” He said it like it didn’t even mean anything, pushed his hair behind with his hand.

“I’m tired, Clara. Tired of these marital rules you cling to. I was never a part of this marriage. It wasn’t mine, it was yours and my grandfather’s.

My throat tightened. “Five years. I’ve spent all these years trying to make this work. To make us work. Five years trying to love you even when you wouldn’t let me.”

He looked at me irritated. “And what have you done in those five years? Tell me. Aside from sitting at home and of course cooking and eating. What else are you good at?”

He stepped closer and continued, his voice rising.

“I’m tired of waking up everyday to the same dull life. The same dull wife. I need someone who can actually stand beside me. Someone presentable. Someone that fits my own world. Not just some stand in wife”

My heart ached. At this point, it felt like a knife had just been pierced through it. I just couldn’t control my tears at this moment, streaming down my face.

And then, he pulled a crisp envelope from his briefcase, tossed it onto the table between us.

“That is it! An end to all of these”

“What is- that?” I asked, still don’t want to believe what I think might be in there.

“You do know how to read, don’t you?”

My hands were trembling as I picked it up, my vision blurring while I fought with the words at the top of the papers.

“Divorce Agreement”