Siempre fuiste tu

It started with a casual scroll through a Facebook parenting group.

My husband, Jack, came home that evening, his face alight with an excitement I hadn't seen in years.

He spoke of a monumental career opportunity with BMW in Germany, a chance to elevate our family's future.

Then came the chilling caveat: for obscure corporate reasons, he explained, participants needed to be officially single, so we’d need a “symbolic divorce.”

My heart plunged, because only days before, I’d read an anonymous post in that very same group detailing how a man planned to trick his wife into a fake divorce to run off with his new girlfriend; the parallels were undeniable.

He swore it was just paperwork and a formality, that nothing would change between us.

His palpable relief when I, feigning compliance, agreed to this monstrous charade was truly sickening.

Less than a week later, with the divorce decree in hand, he flew overseas with his much younger, blonder colleague, vanishing without a trace.