The 99th Divorce Novels & Stories

I asked with a hint of urgency in my voice. “I’m just on my lunch break, you sound sad. Is everything okay?” She asked, her voice laced with concern. Celeste had this superpower of knowing when things were wrong with me even through the phone. I responded with a scoff. “No, everything isn’t okay.” My voice was slightly cracked. “Patrick wants a divorce.” My heart shattered into a million pieces as I voiced it out loud. “What?” She gasped in disbelief. “A divorce? Why?” I shrugged my shoulders. “He said I cheated on him.”

That was the day that I couldn't forget no matter how hard I tried. This time I couldn't stop the tears from wetting my face. I hate that I was feeling this way and I hated it more to know that I was wrong about everything. “These papers weren't registered. You only read the first paragraph but you didn't bother to read the rest of it. This divorce agreement was between Avery Gillory and Scott Brandon. But only you and I know that Gillory wasn't the last name you told us. You told us all that you were Avery Miller back then”

There were fewer names, but specific dates beside each entry. I scrolled slowly. Near the bottom of the page, I stopped when I saw the name Clark Sterling. I looked at the date next to his name. It was one week before he first reached out to me after my divorce. One week… I put the file down and poured myself a second cup of coffee that I didn't really want. I just needed to do something with my hands.

"Don't you find it really ironic, Rachel Grady?" I asked. "We're already divorced, and you already have a family of your own. "Kindly know where you stand and stop bothering me!" I chased her off afterward, and she told me in a hurt voice, "You will always be my husband to me, Aaron Matthews, and that will never change." I had been busy taking care of Mom ever since coming home, and I also didn't have the heart to break the news about my divorce to Grandma because of her failing health. That was how Rachel had taken advantage of that loophole.

"James, I want a divorce, and I meant it. Stop clinging to me. You're only making me more disgusted." James looked stunned. Slowly, he let go of my foot. I got into Nancy's car and left. I wanted no part in this mess anymore. The next day, I flew back to my guesthouse. … Six months later, I flew to Weston again. This time, the divorce was finalized. That night, Nancy and I went for a great dinner to celebrate. "To be honest," she said, "those two totally deserved it. James is now partially paralyzed, and Yvonne got sentenced."

I smiled cheerfully, "Mom, Dad, we want you to enjoy lobster while watching a good show." I turned on the television in the room and cast from my phone. Then I clicked on the top trending topic. [The Real Homewrecker is Lucia! Shocking Twist!] I had personally edited the content, which included certificates of all five divorces and remarriages between Marcus and me, along with every divorce agreement we had signed. It also contained the paternity test between Marcus and Morris, with a timeline comparison that proved he had cheated on me with his ex-wife during my pregnancy.

“But next time. I swear, next time…” Hearing it, I felt nothing. Sure enough, for the ninety-nine time, he stood me up. I just watched him, then slid the notarized divorce agreement across the table. “There won’t be a next time,” I said, “Our alliance and our marriage — both end here..”

My voice was hoarse as I asked her, "Lucy, are you sure you want to divorce me over a drinking-game challenge? This is our ninth divorce. I won't remarry you again. I'll ask you one last time. Do you really want this?" I remembered how we had gotten together. She pursued me first, staging nine elaborated declarations of love that people still talked about on campus. And yet, on the very night we registered our marriage, she'd asked for a divorce. At the time, I had asked why. She had smirked and said, "I humiliated myself declaring my love for you nine times. Even if I divorce you nine times, you can take it. You owe me this!" That was why I endured all those humiliations, telling myself it

“Mallory, do you really think everyone here is stupid? I’ve used that same excuse nine times. Do you expect me to say it a tenth time too?” Mallory’s expression darkened immediately. She said with displeasure, “As you said, nine times. So, what is one more? You won’t even say something to defend Ruth. Is your love for her even real?” She spoke as if the request were perfectly justified. Over the past two years, ever since Ruth’s adopted brother, Peter Conroy, returned home, we had gotten married and divorced nine times. Every single time, she gambled our marriage against Peter in some bet.

Then, without a word, I pulled a thick stack of papers from my bag. "Ninety-nine divorce agreements," I said. "Not one missing. The last one's signed. Finn, I'm done fighting with you. Let's divorce."