The table fell into stunned silence. Even my mother scolded me, accusing me of not knowing how to count my blessings.
Jonathan’s eyes reddened as he clutched my wrist.
His voice broke. “What did I do wrong? Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”
I pulled my hand free, meeting my husband’s gaze with calm finality.
“It’s because you’ve been doing everything so perfectly that I want a divorce,” I said.
——
“Angela, are you out of your mind?” Jonathan’s voice was hoarse and low, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grip.
“Our son just turned one. You promised you’d be there to watch him grow up. Have you forgotten that already?”
The clatter of bowls and chopsticks filled the room.
My mother-in-law, Sandra Beckett, quickly set down her ladle, grabbed my hand, and pleaded through tears.
“Angela, hasn’t Jonathan been good enough to you lately? He gave you his whole paycheck, and comes straight home after work to care for the baby. You can’t make trouble like this.”
“Mother, I’m not making trouble. This marriage has to end," I said evenly.
When she saw the resolve in my eyes, her hand froze midair. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but no words came.