Now I finally did.
In the cold, transactional reality of adulthood, heartbreak was worthless currency. Grievances didn't pay bills. Emotional wounds didn't convert into bonuses. They weren't even lessons worth savoring—just waste.
I stared at the ceiling until the intricate relief patterns blurred into gray haze. When I finally wiped my eyes, my hand came away slick with tears.
Even the most rational person could be reduced to a fool by love.
That night, I didn't wallow. I called a lawyer.
The next morning, I marched into Claire's office and slapped the divorce agreement onto her desk.
"If the terms are acceptable, sign it." My voice was flat. "I want this finalized by afternoon."
Claire looked haggard—dark circles bruising her eyes, a testament to a sleepless night. She didn't even read the document. Just glared at me, defensive and bitter.
"Ruby, don't you think being married to you is exhausting?" she snapped. "You demand perfection in everything. Always have to be the strong one, the one who never loses. I admitted my mistake, didn't I? But you had to take it out on me and Colin. Hit us both. On what grounds do you get to demand a divorce and expect me to just sign?"