Looking at that entitled expression on his face, I almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.
I'd been in a car accident. Bruised and broken, I lay alone in a hospital bed for a week with no one to look after me.
He'd been with his precious childhood sweetheart. Cooking for her, arranging flowers, going on dates, strolling through shops, living his best life.
And when he finally came home, there was no concern, no apology. Instead, the first thing out of his mouth was a complaint that I hadn't told him I'd been discharged.
My voice was calm. So calm it sounded foreign even to me. “There was no need. I checked myself out and got home on my own.“
Only then did Conrad notice the suitcase at my feet. His brow furrowed deeper, irritation creeping into his tone. “What's this? Where are you going?”
“Divorce.”
The word left my lips without trembling. My face was still. It didn't hurt as much as I'd imagined it would.
Conrad stared at me, then let out a short, cold laugh, as if I'd just told the most ridiculous joke he'd ever heard. “Serena, what did you just say?”
“I said I want a divorce.” I repeated it, every syllable deliberate.
Conrad walked over and crouched in front of me. He reached for my face, but I turned away. The impatience on his face deepened.
“Serena, can we stop with the theatrics? You know I've been running myself ragged taking care of Albie these past few days.”
“Once we're divorced, you can take care of her full-time.”
I cut him off without an ounce of mercy.
His expression darkened. “Serena, I'm already trying to smooth things over. I'm giving you an out here. Don't push it, because if you keep this up, you're the one who won't be able to handle the fallout.”
“Besides, we've been together for years. You really think you can walk away from me? Stop throwing a tantrum.”
“This isn't a tantrum.”
I tilted my head to dodge his hand again, cutting him off mid-sentence. My gaze met his, steady and unblinking. No anger. No self-pity. Nothing but the dead-still clarity of someone who was done.
“Conrad, I'm not going to rehash everything that came before. Let's just talk about our wedding anniversary. I was in a car accident. Blood all over my face. And when I got to the hospital, I saw you escorting Alberta to her checkup.”
“I was hospitalized for a week. You didn't show up once. Didn't call once. Didn't send a single message. But every day, there you were on her social media, cooking for her, taking her out.”
“You said I'd never leave. But this time, I'm leaving.”
Every word I spoke was measured and calm. I laid out all the things he'd taken for granted, spreading them before him one by one, like evidence on a table.
Conrad's face shifted in stages. Contempt first, then creeping shock, then panic, then anger. Through all of it, he still couldn't see that he was the problem.
“Serena, you want a divorce over something this small? Albie wasn't feeling well. I was just keeping her company. We're married. Can't you cut me some slack?”
“Small?”
That one word broke something loose. I laughed, sharp and brittle. “My car accident was small? Being stuck in a hospital bed, unable to move, needing someone by my side, that was small? Our wedding anniversary, and you spent it with your childhood sweetheart, that was small? Taking everything I gave you for granted, that was small too?”
“Then tell me, Conrad. What exactly counts as a big deal to you?”
He had nothing. His mouth opened and closed, but no rebuttal came.
He was used to my compromises. Used to me bending. Used to knowing that no matter what he did, I would forgive him.
So he was certain this was just anger, just a tantrum, and in a couple of days I'd do what I always did: bow my head first, coax him back, and swallow every last drop of hurt in silence.
“I'm not going to argue with you. You're hurt right now, your emotions are all over the place. We'll talk when you've calmed down.” He wouldn't meet my eyes. He turned toward the bedroom, all magnanimous patience, the picture of a man graciously choosing not to engage.
I stood up and caught his wrist. My grip wasn't hard, but it was steady.
“I don't need to calm down.”
“I've never been more clear-headed.”
“I'll have the divorce papers drawn up and sent to you for your signature.”
“I won't be coming back to this house.”
Conrad whipped around. For the first time, real panic flickered in his eyes. He stared at me like he was seeing a stranger.
