No More Waiting for His Love

I begged my husband ninety-nine times to go with me to Jay Boone's concert.

On the hundredth time, he finally bought two front-row tickets.

Dressed to the nines, I was stopped at the entrance by security because I couldn't produce my ticket.

By the time the concert ended, I still hadn't been able to get through to him on the phone.

News broke that my husband and his young girlfriend were at the concert, requesting "Sunny Day" from Jay Boone. The story shot straight to the trending charts.

There's no rain in the lyrics of "Sunny Day."

Because the only world caught in a torrential downpour was mine.

The news about Lewis Sheeran and Anne Cohen was blowing up online—he even shared it himself on his social media.

His caption was framed as an apology: [This girl was being immature and insisted on going to a concert. I never thought it would make the news. I've seen everyone's messages—sorry for causing a stir.]

Five years of marriage, and I was never once important enough to show up on his social media. Now, he just hands that spotlight to another woman without a second thought.

I begged him ninety-nine times to take me to that concert. He said no every time. Someone else got it on the first try.

Numb, I turned off my phone screen and stayed by the roadside, waiting for a ride.

On the night of the concert, the whole city was at a standstill. I stood alone outside the venue forever and couldn't catch a cab.

My phone rang. It was Lewis.

His voice was cold. "Why aren't you home yet?"

I stayed quiet.

In the past, I would've automatically softened, played cute. But tonight, I didn't know what to say to him.

Lewis got impatient. "Janice, did you lose your voice?"

"I'm at the concert venue."

He went silent—like he'd finally remembered he'd promised to come with me.

I just never expected he'd bought the tickets… only to use them to take Anne.

"Wait for me in the parking lot. I'll come get you."

I didn't really believe him, but I didn't want to keep waiting for a cab either, because it started pouring. A full-on storm. The whole city lost power.

I took shelter in the parking lot, looking like a mess, using nothing but my phone screen to see.

The battery lasted two hours tops.

Before it died, Lewis still hadn't texted back.

Instead, I saw Anne's post: [The whole city's a wreck from the storm, but I'm grateful he still drives me home. My sunshine.]

The picture showed Lewis's profile, one hand on the steering wheel.

I smiled faintly, a strange sense of relief washing over me.

Fine.

I waited at the concert entrance until everyone was gone—he stayed with Anne.

I waited in the parking lot all night—he never showed.

I waited five years in this marriage for him to change.

This time, I wouldn't wait anymore.

…

I walked to the nearest hotel and passed out as soon as I hit the bed.

The next morning, I went straight from the hotel to the law firm. I was still a little late.

The firm was a big name. Lewis founded it. I was just one of the lawyers.

As soon as I sat down, Rosie Eilish, the lawyer at the next desk, looked at me impressed. "Today's the all-hands meeting with the big boss and you still dared to be late and skip it."

I just smiled.

Lewis never waited for me—let alone for some meeting.

It was always me waiting for him. Every time.

The morning was light on work. Once I finished up, I opened my laptop and started drafting divorce papers.

Lewis showed up out of nowhere.

"You don't act like a wife should. Always making trouble, even staying out all night—what point are you trying to prove?"

I nodded, kept typing, and answered offhandedly, "Don't worry. It won't happen again."

There shouldn't be a next time. Once we were divorced, we'd each go our own way.

Lewis paused, looking like he wanted to snap back, but held himself in check.

"Let's have dinner tonight."

He hesitated, glanced at my screen, then asked, "Since when do you take divorce cases?"

I gave a slight smile.

"Since I'd never asked where you were last night, you shouldn't ask me anything either."