Chapter 5: Breaking Point

The day I finally decided to ask for a divorce, I accidentally overheard him on the phone.

He was pacing the hallway, his voice softer than it ever was with me. I watched from the shadows, clutching a mug of lukewarm coffee, feeling like an intruder in my own home.

He spoke gently, coaxing the person on the other end:

“Mm, don’t be afraid, I’ll be there in ten minutes… You can’t move, just wait for me, okay?”

When he turned around, he saw me.

There was a flicker of guilt in his eyes, quickly masked by indifference. For a heartbeat, I wondered if he’d apologize, but the moment passed and the wall went up again.

I said calmly, “Dinner’s ready. Eat before you go.”

My voice barely shook. I set his plate on the table, careful not to let my hand tremble. In that moment, I felt older than my years, worn thin by disappointment.

He only paused for a moment, then kept walking out.

“You eat, no need to wait for me.”

He barely looked at me, grabbing his keys and jacket before disappearing into the night. The click of the door closing echoed through the house, a final punctuation mark.

When he was almost at the door, I called out to him again.

My voice caught, but I forced the words out, holding onto the last shred of my dignity.

His face showed even more impatience. “What is it?”

He didn’t even bother to hide his annoyance. The distance between us was suddenly an ocean.

“Derek,” I said, “let’s get a divorce.”

The silence that followed was the loudest sound I’d ever heard.