Chapter 4: No Turning Back

The imaginary comment section was in full brawl:

*If you’re worried, just avoid Jason from now on. Problem solved, right?*

Maybe seeing my lack of reaction, Lillian tried to bargain: “If you’re still worried, I promise—I’ll try to avoid Jason.”

Her voice was stiff, almost like she was negotiating a lease, not a marriage. Five years, and this was the first promise she ever made me. The irony almost made me laugh.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

“No need.”

I said it quietly, almost gently. Like letting her off the hook for something minor—not the thing that broke us.

“What?”

She blinked, confusion breaking through her mask for the first time in months.

“Whether you see Jason or not, it’s not my business. We’re getting divorced anyway.”

My voice was low but final. I felt empty, like there was nothing left to say.

“Ethan, have you had enough!”

Her hands balled into fists, voice trembling. Her lips pressed together, and her eyes darted to the window, as if searching for an escape. Her cheeks flushed, breath coming faster.

I didn’t know why she was so angry. After the divorce, she’d be free to be with Jason. Shouldn’t that be what she wanted?

Maybe I hurt her pride. Or maybe she didn’t want to be the one left behind.

A tense silence fell. I gripped the back of the chair, knuckles white, while she paced a tight circle, every movement taut with frustration.

Then her phone rang—a generic ringtone, oddly cheerful. She hesitated, glanced at me, hands trembling as she tucked a stray lock behind her ear.

Jason’s voice crackled through the speaker: “Lillian, let’s go out and talk. I have a lot to say.”

She answered flatly, “What do you want to say? Just say it over the phone.”

“No, not on the phone. Come out—face to face. It won’t take long.”

Lillian paused, shoulders sagging, then hung up and set the phone down with a sigh.

“I’m going out for a bit. If you have anything to say, wait until I get back.”

She grabbed her keys, bag slung over her shoulder, not meeting my eyes.

“There’s nothing left to talk about. Be at the county clerk’s office at 9:30 tomorrow. We’ll get the divorce.”

I tried to sound calm, but the words tasted bitter, echoing in the empty hallway.

Lillian’s eyes were deep, a faint, invisible flame flickering inside. Hurt and anger warred on her face. Was she relieved? Or mourning the version of us that used to be?

“Ethan, will you ever stop!”

She glared at me, as if my decision to leave was a betrayal bigger than anything she’d done.

“Do you think divorce is a joke? I get that you’re jealous, but there’s a limit! Don’t go too far!”

Her voice broke, part accusation, part plea. For a second, I hesitated at the door, hearing her breath hitch—maybe even a sob. But I still left.

She looked down on me, blaming everything on me. As if my so-called unreasonable behavior was why her world fell apart, why her child would be labeled before birth.

Her anger boiled over: “You want a divorce? Fine, I’ll give it to you.”

Her voice was sharp as glass, echoing in the hall. The last bit of patience snapped in her eyes.

“I’m not some charity case, Ethan. I married you because I thought you were different. Turns out, you’re just like the rest.”

She spat the words, voice shaking. Her bag slammed into the wall, making the picture frame rattle.

“Let’s do it. Get divorced. Just don’t regret it!”

She held my gaze, daring me to flinch.

I looked at my wife of seven years and said, “Don’t worry. I never will.”

I kept my voice steady, even as the ache threatened to break through. The space between us was wider than ever.

What I regret most is marrying you in the first place.

I thought it, but didn’t say it. Some things don’t need to be spoken.

I packed my clothes and left. I moved quietly through the house, folding shirts into my old duffel, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume and lemon cleaner. I paused at the door, hearing her crying softly on the other side—but I still walked out into the night.