DIVORCE

kitchen where we once shared countless meals, the scent of his cologne still lingering on the couch

led the same way our marriage did. The truth is, I never expected to be here-never imagined that my life, so car

, feels like a betrayal-one that neither of us had the courage to face until it was too late. I could have fought for him. I cou

uing. Then, it grew, and with every word unsaid, every touch avoided, it took root. Until one day, the quiet was too loud t

should get

een made in his mind long before he spoke it aloud. As though this had al

d been holding on for so long, hoping that we could salvage somethi

eavier now, like they were holding the pieces of my life together in ways I couldn't yet understand.

. Maybe it was time to let go. But lettin

fe, believing that our love would conquer all. That version of us seemed like a lifetime ago, like

How his presence had filled the air with energy, how effortlessly he made me feel seen, important, like I was

had once promised to never be apart, now fo

me, and I quickly wiped away a tea

t the cold, hard look of someone who had already detached themselves, mentally, emotionally, even before the divorce had been

," he said flatly, ho

ng hands. "I've already signed

r maybe regret, but it was quickly masked by the stoic expression he wore. He stepped into the hallway, his p

e said finally, his

poken. The decision had already been made. But even so, I followed him to the living room, the p

rom him, the distance between us more than physical. It

he said, his voice rough. "I thought...

ized how much I'd been hoping that we could fix thi

somewhere along the way, we stopped being..

the clock on the wall. The clock that had always marked

s voice so small, so vul

t the words stuck in my throat. There was too much to say, too mu

ting his tie nervo

ved, the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life wit

my voice steady despite t

teps heavy, as though the weight of eve

loodgates opening. The tears I'd held back for so long came rushing out,

beginning of a new chapter, one that

s the emptiness that filled the spaces between us, the places where our love once lived. The silence echoed louder now that he was gone, and I co

d we g

no point in staying here and wallowing in memories of what we used to be. Maybe I neede

We had planned everything together, from the paint colors to the furniture to the way we'd decorate t

ted. I moved through the house mechanically, cleaning up the remnants of our time together. A coffee

ck it; I already knew who it was. My best friend, Clara. She had been there for m

e answering, unsu

trembling despite my bes

t I could hear the concern in her tone. "I'm so s

to know so well. The same view I'd shared with him countless times, discussing our hopes and

bitter than I intended. "I thought I'd feel more rel

ently. "You don't have to have all the an

ht of it all. The divorce, the broken promises, the shattered d

I admitted, my voice barely above a

actically hear Clara thinking. "You don't have to do it

dn't see me. "Thanks. I don't

ng up, I felt a strange mixture of gratitude and loneliness. Clara was right. I didn't have

, his eyes full of love and promise. And then I saw the cold, distant man he had become,

had shared so many happy moments, so many firsts. But now, those memories only caused pain, as i

ng so perfect fal

My mind wandered back to that night-the night when

serve b

erent. There was no anger, no passion. Just the resignation in his voice,

ther. But nothing had worked. Nothing had been able to stop the train tha

ly. With no more strength left to fight, I fell into a

if I had dreamed it or if it was real, but I quickly realized it was real-the faint aroma

As I walked into the kitchen, my heart sank when I saw the empty

bout my day-that stung the most. It wasn't the grand gestures or the big arguments. It was th

of despair that clung to me like a second skin. But no matter how

pick up the pieces of a life I

was better to let it all fall apart. Maybe this was my chance to start over

as ticking, and I knew I couldn't stay frozen in this moment forever.

I was ready. Ready to rebuild. Ready to take the next s

mementos from trips we'd taken together. Each item brought with it a flood of emotions I wasn

our relationship, back when things were still new and exciting, back when we believed we could conquer anything together.

e holds, but I know I want t

him saying them, feel the warmth in his touch wh

orever had an expiration date. And now,

ords again, it hit me harder than I expected. It wasn't just a letter. It was a promise-one that had been broken, shat

emnants of that hope. But another part, the part that still held on to the fragments of love, couldn't bring myself to. It was as i

of this house had been marked by him, by us. The photographs on the walls, the books we'd picked out

n, the shared laughter over dinner, and the evenings curled up on the couch felt like ev

ed to

but anywhere felt better than being here. The car was parked in the driveway, cold and

thoughts I couldn't quiet. Where did I even begin to pick up the pieces of my life? W

unchanged, indifferent to the storm inside me. But somehow, that was comf

e memory of that day felt so distant, almost like it belonged to someone else. We had walked han

es. Dreams. They were just words-words that h

e park was quiet, save for the distant sound of birds chirping and the rustle of leaves in the

eful here. But there was an unease in my chest, an ache that wouldn't go away. I close

rything cha

pulled it out, half-expecting to see his name on the screen, but it was

alone in this. We'll get through it. You'll

s known how to make me feel less alone, less broken. I c

lowly over the screen as if th

s just hard. Every part of me wants t

e always encouraging, but in moments like this, it felt like she was tel

ntil now. It was easier to blame him, to think he was the one who had walke

ust a story of love and joy. They were a story of two people who had lost themselves in each other, who had forgotten what it mea

oo afraid to see that we were both drowning in

nd the answers, but I was starting to see that maybe the first step was to forgive myself-for the things I had overlooked,

healing. But I wasn't alone in it. I had Clara, and I had myself. And somewhere