2: 2
That was the darkest day of my life.
I fell down the stairs by accident and lost the baby.
I called for the ambulance alone.
I lay on the cold operating table alone.
I signed the consent form alone.
I woke from the anesthesia alone.
The nurse asked where my family was, and I said they were on the way.
The truth was, I knew he wasn't coming.
Because Sara had said her cat's nails were too long and had torn up her couch.
She said it with a catch in her voice, and Barnaby chose her without a second thought.
In that moment I stared at the ceiling, and a voice inside me said: enough, all of this is really enough.
But in the end I still didn't leave.
I thought marriage would make it different.
I thought after five years together, he would know how to tell what mattered.
I thought on our wedding day, when I stood in front of him in my dress, his eyes would finally hold no one but me.
"Baby."
Barnaby's voice shook. "There's really nothing between me and Sara. I only looked after her because she's your best friend, your closest friend. I thought if I took care of her, I'd be taking good care of you. Baby, you're the one I love…"
"Barnaby, I really don't want to hear it."
I cut him off, stood up, my voice calm. "Five years. Ninety-nine times. Every time you said the same thing. Every time it was 'she needs me,' 'she'll fall apart if I don't go,' 'she's your best friend.' But you're my boyfriend. Even if she is my best friend, what obligation do you have to take care of her? All because she once called your mother her future mother-in-law?"
His eyes went red at once. "Baby, give me one more chance. I won't have anything to do with her again. I'll block her right now."
He fumbled for his phone.
I shook my head with a smile. "Don't bother. From now on, whatever happens between you and her is none of my business."
Then I took out the printed divorce papers and set them on the nightstand.
"Your family paid the down payment on the apartment, so I don't want it. I bought the car, so I'm taking it. As for everything else, we each pack our own things."
"I won't sign."
His eyes were red as he clamped down hard on my wrist. "Jemima! I'm telling you, I'll die before I sign. I will never let you leave me."
He was crouched on the floor, still in the groom's suit he hadn't had time to change out of, his bow tie crooked, his eyes bloodshot, looking like a big abandoned dog.
Once, every time I saw that expression, I would soften.
But not now.
I would never soften again.
I picked up my packed suitcase. "Then, Barnaby, I'll see you in court."
Once I was outside, I took out my phone and called my cousin, the lawyer.
"Vanessa Acevedo, I want to file for divorce."
