They stood in front of the car, arms around each other. Her hand was resting on his shoulder. Fingers bare. No ring.
Caption:
[After everything, you were always the one.]
Margaux liked the post and then commented:
[And I will always be your way home.]
But they weren't done.
Archie posted ten more updates before the day was over.
They visited the Branson family's ancestral home. Margaux sat at the head of the table like she belonged there. Like she'd always been the Branson family's daughter-in-law.
Archie sat beside her, doting and affectionate.
They toasted the elders.
She followed him to the family shrine, knelt, and bowed her head to the floor.
Later, they went boating on Westlake.
The sun lit up her face, soft and golden. And her smile—God, that smile was something else.
She never smiled like that with me.
Whenever we went out, her eyes were glued to her laptop. Her face was always blank, distant.
I used to tell her stories—silly things I saw on the street, hoping to make her laugh, but Margaux never looked up or showed any interest.
She would only frown at me and call me childish.
Every holiday, I arrived alone at the Davidson gatherings. I was consistently the outsider and the easy target. Her brothers and sisters no longer even tried to hide their jabs.
To them, I wasn't a husband. I was a punchline. A stand-in. Something to sneer at once the drinks kicked in.
The memory pressed on my chest like a vice. My eyes burned, but I forced the sting back and swallowed the knot in my throat. I kept my head down and typed the divorce agreement on my phone.
Sometimes you've got to hit the wall head-on before it finally cracks your skull that you're not made of stone.
Everyone bleeds once before they figure out when it's time to walk away.
When I finished drafting it, I emailed the document to Margaux. Then, I made a call.
...
By that afternoon, I sat across from my best friend, Kenneth Cuthbert, at a bar downtown. His usual carefree vibe was nowhere to be seen. His expression was flat, unreadable. He looked at me like I was walking straight into a fire with my eyes open.
"You really thought this through?" Kenneth asked, his voice low. "Eighteen years, Troy. You've loved her that long. Are you really ready to let Margaux go?"