"Don’t be silly, Kath. You did great today," he said, rubbing her back. “Next time, you’ll do even better.”
“Next time,” she echoed, her face lighting up with excitement.
I stood there, watching them. She was younger, more energetic, with a face that reminded me too much of my own. But all I felt was exhaustion—exhaustion and a growing emptiness that I couldn’t ignore anymore.
When I got home, my hands trembled as I began packing my few belongings into bags. The numbness in my chest was almost comforting—it was better than feeling anything at all. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with calls and messages, but I ignored most of them. Finally, I glanced at the screen, overwhelmed by the flood of notifications.
[You’re divorcing Mark? Are you out of your mind?] One friend’s text screamed at me. [People used to say you two were the perfect couple! If you divorce him, no one will believe in love anymore!]
Another message came through, this one from an old college friend. [Jane, be real. Has Mark ever treated you poorly? You’ve been married for years. Is divorce really the answer now?]
I could only shake my head at the absurdity of it all. They didn’t understand. None of them did. Even my parents had called earlier, their voices full of concern and disapproval.
[Jane, honey, you’re not too old yet. Have a baby and everything will go back to the way it was. A child will fix things.]
A child... I thought bitterly. My hand unconsciously moved to my stomach. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring a child into this broken mess of a marriage. I didn’t want to.
Just as I was lost in my thoughts, the front door swung open, slamming against the wall with a crash. Mark stumbled inside, his eyes bloodshot, his breath reeking of alcohol. He staggered towards me, rage flickering in his eyes when he saw the half-packed suitcase on the floor.
“What the hell are you doing, Jane?” he slurred, his voice thick with anger.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I took a deep breath and looked at him, my eyes filled with the exhaustion of a decade of love gone wrong. “Do you even know what today is?” I asked quietly.
Mark frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember. His face remained blank.
I smiled sadly, the weight of his forgetfulness crushing my heart. “It’s our tenth wedding anniversary, Mark.”