After Luna, my wife, became one of the most credible doctoral advisor in her field, she made it a tradition to sponsor a poor male student each year. Though, it was all under the pretense of building her reputation.
On our wedding anniversary, she showed up late, trailing behind her a baby-faced college boy in a crisp white shirt.
“This kid's young, shy and pure-hearted," she said casually. "If you keep that scowl on your face, you’ll just scare him off."
She then added, "Warm him a glass of milk, will you? He gets insomnia before bed and if he doesn’t sleep well, he’ll end up not sleeping at all. It'd keep me up too.”
Laughter and teasing filled the room. Her academic friends, all too comfortable with the scene, kept calling him her “little boyfriend” like it was some sort of inside joke.
I said nothing. I simply threw the divorce papers in her face.
“Cyrus, seriously?" she sneered, barely glancing at them. "Still playing this fake divorce game to get attention? God, no wonder you’re so boring in bed."
"If you really had the guts, you'd actually leave," she added nonchalantly.
She kicked the papers aside with her heel and her cold and mocking tone penetrated my heart like a sharp knife.
What Luna didn’t know was that the divorce papers weren’t fake this time. I had hired a lawyer. I meant it for real.
——
“Cyrus, man, don't go throwing divorce papers every time you get into a spat with Luna,” one of the guests joked.
“Yeah," someone else chimed in. "Remember last time? You had a bunch of typos in it. Did you even fix those?"
Everyone burst into laughter and didn't stop at that. They continued gossiping like I didn't exist.
I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself.
Luna had become a doctoral advisor five years ago. Ever since, her circle of friends had been made up of academics and intellectuals.
With just a bachelor’s degree to my name, I might as well have never gone to school at all in their eyes.
“That’s enough, don’t you think?”
Someone in the crowd finally spoke up, breaking the tension. Only then did the others take the hint and shift the topic.
I leaned forward, trying to see through the crowd, but couldn’t make out a thing.
Taking a deep breath, I bent down to pick up the divorce papers from the floor and handed them to Luna again.
“Luna, this version of the divorce agreement has no typos or sloppy grammar. I hired a lawyer to draft it.” I passed her the attorney’s business card along with the documents. “Take a look. If there’s anything off, talk to my lawyer.”
That finally got her to stand up straight and step away from the man she had been leaning on. She took the papers.
I turned and walked into the kitchen, made a glass of milk and handed it to the college kid named Seth.
Seth Boreas... He was young, good-looking—there was even a flicker of resemblance to a younger version of myself.
I was no longer the person who held her heart. She’d moved on—again and again. I’d lost count of how many times.
“There’s powdered milk in the cupboard—skim and whole. Help yourself next time if you want more.”
“Professor Luna is a kind person. There are eleven other students like you living on the third floor. Try learning from them. Maybe you’ll graduate sooner.”
Over the years, I had thrown the word “divorce” around more times than I could count—handwritten drafts, online templates, you name it. A chaotic mess, one version after another.
I had thought Luna might tone things down, but it barely made a difference. Over the years, Luna had brought home more college boys than I could count—all to polish her reputation as a top academic advisor.
One wave after another... Now there were still eleven of them left.
I ended up playing housekeeper for the lot of them. I looked after their needs and, more often than not, turning a blind eye to their flirting and fooling around.
I couldn’t keep living like this. I didn’t want to.
Back when we first got married, our anniversaries were just the two of us—simple, warm and full of love you could feel without even trying.
Somewhere along the way, though, our anniversary became just another excuse for Luna to show off and brag. The house would fill with strangers I didn't even recognize, her circle constantly turning over with new faces.
That day, I turned and headed upstairs, packed a few clothes into a suitcase and got ready to leave.
Suddenly, Luna cut me off at the staircase with a single step, blocking my way. She shot a look of pure disgust at the suitcase in my hand.
"Cyrus, looks like playing househusband's gotten a little too comfortable for you," she sneered. "Have you earned a single dime since we got married? If it weren't for me, would you be living this cushy little life?"
