On New Year’s Day, my husband suddenly asked for a divorce.
I smiled and agreed without hesitation, even giving up custody of our two children, because I knew he was about to lose more than just a wife.
As the holidays drew to a close, my husband suddenly brought up divorce.
I readily agreed and even gave up custody of our two children.
On the night of December 28th, as Michael pushed the divorce agreement in front of me, the beef stew he loved was still simmering in the kitchen.
Our two children were in the living room watching cartoons, their laughter seeping through the crack in the door.
His expression was as calm as if he were discussing what to get at the grocery store tomorrow, not ending our 12-year marriage.
“Kate, let’s get a divorce.
I’ll take the two kids.
The house is yours, and I’ll give you another $100 in compensation.”
He said the words flowing so smoothly and naturally that it was obvious he had rehearsed them many times.
I picked up the pen and signed my name on the agreement without even looking at the specific clauses.
“Fine.
All I want is my freedom.”
Michael was stunned.
All the persuasion, explanations, and reassurances he had prepared were now useless.
He would never know that I had been waiting for him to say those words for three whole years.
Disclaimer: The plot of this story is fictional.
Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental.
As Kate brought the last dish to the table, the clock on the wall pointed to exactly 7:00 p.m.
Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and sautéed green beans with garlic.
All were favorites of her husband, Michael, and their children.
“Dinner’s ready,” she called out to the living room.
Leo, their 8-year-old son, and Mia, their six-year-old daughter, raced to the table and climbed into their designated seats.
Michael slowly emerged from his home office, still holding his phone.
His brows slightly furrowed as he looked at the screen.
“Did you wash your hands?” Kate asked the children.
“Yes,” the two children chorused.
Michael sat down at the head of the table, placing his phone beside him.
Kate served him a piece of chicken and then gave the children more food.
She had been doing this for twelve years.
It had become muscle memory.
“Dad, are we going to Grandpa and Grandma’s for New Year’s?” Leo asked as he ate.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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