Now my body trembled with nausea and exhaustion, and beneath it all, one thought rose sharp and undeniable: my children. The life inside me didn’t care that I was broken. They needed me to survive. They needed me to keep going.
I dragged myself into the kitchen, yanking open cabinets with trembling hands. Crackers, bread, anything—I shoved it into my mouth, chewing around the tears spilling down my face. The food felt like lead, heavy in my throat, but at least it dulled the gnawing panic that I was failing them, too.
My phone sat on the counter. Its dark screen seemed to pulse in the silence. With shaking fingers, I unlocked it. One name waited like a lifeline: Naomi. My best friend. The only person who knew how rotten my marriage had become.
When she answered, I didn’t even waste a greeting.
“Draft the divorce papers for me,” I whispered. My voice broke on the last word.
Her reply was instant, steady, like stone under my feet. “I’ll take care of it tonight.”
I pressed the phone to my chest after she hung up, clinging to that promise like air. Divorce. The word felt foreign on my tongue—terrifying, liberating, final.
---
By morning, the papers were in my inbox.
At noon, the front door clicked open. Matthew stepped in, his arms cradling a bouquet of white lilies—my favorite, once upon a time. The sight of them once would have melted me. Today it only made bile rise. He thought flowers could erase the night before. He thought petals could plaster over betrayal.
He froze when he saw me sitting at the dining table, quietly eating a simple meal alone. His eyes flicked to the lilies after I lifted them from his hands and laid them on the sideboard without a word. Their sweetness filled the air, suffocating, like perfume in a sealed room.
He cleared his throat. “Yesterday, you embarrassed me in front of my colleagues. You ruined the evening. Next time, you’ll apologize to each of them, one by one.”
I lifted my gaze slowly, deliberately. Whatever he saw in my expression must have unsettled him, because for once, his words faltered.
“I apologize,” I said softly.
His brows drew together, startled.
“I apologize,” I repeated, stronger now, “that I forgot my place.”
The chair legs screeched against the floor as I rose. I walked into the kitchen, ignoring the way his eyes tracked me, and returned with another plate. Setting it across from me, I said, “You should eat.”