A vein throbbed at my temple, pulsing with rage.
It was a blatant provocation.
I didn't reply. I turned off my phone and tossed it aside.
When I walked into the bathroom to shower, I spotted something in the trash can. A pregnancy test, lying face-up. Two red lines.
I froze.
Marina and I hadn't been intimate in three months. One month of that was my business trip, but even before I left, she hadn't let me touch her.
And now she was pregnant.
Whose baby was it?
I stared at that test, gripping the edge of the sink until my knuckles went white.
Then I laughed. A raw, ugly laugh that tore out of my chest.
And then the tears came, hot and relentless, pouring down my face.
There was no future left for us. Not anymore.
I had no one to blame but myself. I'd loved too deeply, and I'd loved the wrong person.
After my shower, I caught sight of the wedding photo on the wall. The two of us, leaning into each other, smiling like we had the whole world figured out. So bright. So happy.
I reached up, peeled my half of the photo away from the frame, and dropped it into the trash.
I called a lawyer friend. Within the hour, a courier delivered a set of divorce papers to my door. I signed my name, then had the courier take them straight to the company. Marina would see them first thing in the morning.
When it was done, I felt strangely light. Like I'd set down something I'd been carrying for years.
But then the weight came rushing back.
My son. He was only four. What about him?
That night, Marina didn't come home. Again.
The next morning, I went to my parents' house, planning to take Nathan Simmons to preschool.
But Marina had beaten me there.
She'd already shown my parents the divorce papers.
My father rose from his chair, face twisted with anger. "Godfrey Simmons, how long are you going to keep this up?"
"A girl as good as Marina, and you want to divorce her?"
My mother chimed in from the side, her tone gentler but no less pointed. "Godfrey, Nathan's already in preschool. Don't do something foolish."
Marina's eyes glistened red. "Honey, I'm the CEO of the company. Sometimes I need to bond with my employees. Why are you so jealous? You really want to divorce me over that?"
I said nothing for a long moment. Then I looked her dead in the eyes.
"Marina, the baby you're carrying is Tristan's, isn't it?"
The room went silent.
Marina's body trembled. "How... how did you find out?"
"It doesn't matter how I found out."
"Let's just get divorced."
Marina broke down, tears streaming down her face like rain on flower petals. "Honey, I was wrong. I don't want a divorce."
"I do."
Crack.
The slap didn't come from Marina. It came from my father.
"So what if the baby isn't yours? You want to blow up your marriage over something this small?"
My mother piled on. "Son, think about everything Marina has done for this family. When your father needed surgery, she paid for it."
"And your brother's four years of college tuition. The down payment on his apartment. All of that came from her."
Marina grabbed my arm. "Godfrey, let's not get divorced, okay?"
She pulled me into the corner, her voice dropping to a whisper laced with guilt. "About the baby... I was just so lonely that night. It only happened once. I never thought I'd actually get pregnant."
But I saw it. Right there on her face, beneath the performance of remorse, a flicker of something unmistakable.
Happiness.
"If you want to blame someone, blame me," she continued. "Don't blame Tristan. He's still just a kid..."
I laughed, and tears spilled from my eyes. "A twenty-six-year-old kid?"
I turned to leave.
My brother Derek Simmons blocked my path.
"Bro, she just made a mistake. People slip up."
"Just forgive her."
"When the baby's born, raise it as Nathan's little brother or sister. Problem solved."
Then four-year-old Nathan toddled over, wrapped his small arms around my leg, and sobbed. "Daddy, please don't leave Mommy. And don't be mad at Uncle Tristan. He's so nice to me..."
My own child. My own flesh and blood. Standing on Tristan's side.
The loneliness that hit me was absolute. It carved through my chest like a blade, slow and deliberate.
Every single one of them, for the sake of what they stood to gain, was trying to force me to stay in this marriage.
