Chapter 10
I felt my expression harden as I climbed the courthouse steps without hesitation. Let it end. Let all of this finally end.
But Ethan rushed after me, grabbing my wrist with bruising force.
“You still haven’t told me who you’ve been with this past month.” His voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper.
I had almost forgotten about this accusation. It took me a moment to understand. “The shuttle driver! He picked me up from the airport and took me to the hotel.” He seemed to relax slightly, his grip on my wrist loosening.
I laughed bitterly, the sound echoing in the courthouse foyer.
“This is absurd. We’re getting divorced and you’re interrogating me like a jealous husband?
“Or is it only acceptable for you to parade your pregnant girlfriend at my birthday dinner, but not for me to move on?”
My words seemed to hit a nerve. He abruptly released me, his expression darkening.
“What right do you have to talk to me like that?”
I’d had enough.
I was done with his endless questions and judgments.
I straightened my jacket and met his gaze directly.
“Think what you want, but I’m done paying for what happened.
“Ethan, for the past decade, I’ve done nothing but try to make amends.
“I’ve done everything possible to love you, to care for you, but now there’s nothing left. I’m empty.”
I was no longer afraid of his rejection or his anger.
I felt no obligation to him or anyone else.
I walked into the courthouse. “I don’t care who you love anymore. Anyone is fine, as long as it’s not me.”
We completed the final divorce process, Ethan silent and seething throughout. As I signed the last document, a memory flashed through my mind–our first night. in our new apartment. I’d decorated it with such hope, such naive optimism. I’d
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cooked his favorite meal, opened an expensive bottle of wine, even put on the black lace lingerie he’d once drunkenly said he liked. When he came home late, he’d barely glanced at the table I’d set, the candles I’d lit. He’d walked straight to the shower, stayed there for nearly an hour, then emerged in sweatpants and a t- shirt. “Not hungry,” he’d muttered, grabbing a beer from the fridge before shutting himself in the guest bedroom. I’d sat alone at the candlelit table, the food growing cold, my carefully applied makeup running with silent tears, wondering what I’d done wrong.
But I hadn’t done anything wrong. I’d just been a convenient target for his misplaced rage.
My steps felt lighter as I walked out of the courthouse, answering my mother’s
worried call.
“Yes, it’s done. No issues. I’ll see you for dinner tonight.”
Ethan’s voice drifted from behind me: “You seem pretty happy to be rid of me.”
I paused, surprised that my relief was so obvious, but didn’t turn around.
I continued walking, suddenly aware of how gentle the spring breeze felt against my skin. Even the gridlocked traffic seemed somehow charming in its familiarity. For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe without permission.
