003

I met the divorce attorney on Thursday afternoon.

I almost turned around three separate times before entering the building.

The first time was when the elevator doors opened and I realized how insane this was.

The second was when the receptionist smiled at me and said, “Mrs. Stone, right this way,” like women asking how to leave their husbands was an everyday thing.

And the third was when I sat across from a woman named Dana Ellis and heard the word divorce spoken out loud for the first time.

Because suddenly it became real.

Not just hurt feelings.

Not loneliness.

Not another rough patch I could keep pretending would eventually fix itself.

Real.

“You don’t look certain,” Dana said gently after explaining the preliminary filing process.

I stared down at my untouched coffee.

“I love my husband.”

The confession came out embarrassingly fast.

Dana nodded like she’d heard that a thousand times before.

“You can love someone and still recognize that they’re hurting you.”

My throat tightened painfully.

“I don’t even know if he’s cheating,” I admitted quietly. “Maybe I’m just… tired.”

“Tired enough to leave?”

That was the problem.

I didn’t know.

I still woke up every morning wanting Ethan beside me.

I still checked my phone first hoping for his texts.

I still turned toward him instinctively in bed sometimes before remembering how far apart we slept now.

But I was exhausted.

Exhausted from begging silently for attention from my own husband.

Dana slid a folder toward me gently.

“These are only acknowledgment documents for now. Nothing final.”

I stared at the papers, and my stomach twisted.

“I can’t just hand these to him.”

“Actually,” she said carefully, “with men like your husband… you usually can.”

I frowned slightly.

Dana leaned back in her chair. “Busy CEOs sign stacks of paperwork daily without reading half of it. Especially if it comes mixed in with business documents.”

My chest tightened instantly.

No.

No, that felt manipulative.

Cruel even.

“He’d hate that,” I whispered.

Dana’s expression softened slightly.

“You’re still protecting his feelings.”

That hurt because it was true.

Even now.

Even here.

I still felt guilty hurting Ethan.

Meanwhile I wasn’t entirely sure he noticed he was destroying me.

By the time I left the office, the papers felt unbearably heavy inside my purse.

I kept telling myself I didn’t have to use them.

I could still back out.

Still pretend everything was fine.

Still keep waiting for my husband to remember how to love me properly.

The thought made me feel pathetic.

Ethan didn’t come home until almost eleven that night.

I heard the front door while sitting on the couch pretending to read.

The TV played quietly in the background while anxiety twisted in my stomach.

I hadn’t stopped thinking about the papers all evening.

Every time I looked at them, I felt sick.

The sound of Ethan loosening his tie reached me moments before he entered the living room.

“You’re still awake.”

I looked up from the book I hadn’t actually read a single page of.

“You’re late.”

“Mm.”

That was all.

Just mm.

God, when had my marriage become conversations like this?

Ethan walked toward the bar and poured himself whiskey before finally glancing properly at me.

For a second, his expression shifted faintly.

“You okay?”

The concern caught me off guard enough that I almost laughed.

I smiled anyway. “Just tired.”

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than usual.

Then he nodded once and reached for the stack of documents his assistant had left earlier on the counter.

My stomach tightened instantly.

Because the papers were there.

Mixed carefully between contracts and financial reports exactly the way Dana instructed.

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe properly.

Ethan flipped through the pages absently while checking emails on his phone at the same time.

Multitasking.

Distracted.

Completely unaware that I was sitting across from him silently panicking.

“Did Mia call today?” he asked casually.

The normalcy of the question nearly destroyed me.

“She texted.”

“Mm.”

Another page flipped.

Another signature.

My pulse thundered painfully in my ears.

Part of me wanted to stop him.

To snatch the papers away and scream at him to please just notice me instead.

But another part…

Another part was angry.

Because I shouldn’t have to beg my husband to pay attention long enough to save our marriage.

Ethan signed another page.

Then another without even looking up once.

My chest physically hurt now.

“Anything important tomorrow?” he asked distractedly.

I stared at him.

At this man I loved so much I honestly thought he’d ruin me forever.

Then at the signature slowly drying across the page that would begin ending our marriage.

“No,” I whispered.

My voice sounded strange even to me.

Ethan finally glanced up slightly. “You sure?”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

As he finished signing the papers and gathered them, the guilt hit instantly.

Because it was the first real lie I’d ever told my husband, and it wasn't going to be the last.

And alongside the guilt, was hurt. 

My husband just signed our divorce papers without even realizing it.