"Don’t be silly, Kath. You did great today," he said, rubbing her back. “Next time, you’ll do even better.”
“Next time,” she echoed, her face lighting up with excitement.
I stood there, watching them. She was younger, more energetic, with a face that reminded me too much of my own. But all I felt was exhaustion—exhaustion and a growing emptiness that I couldn’t ignore anymore.
When I got home, my hands trembled as I began packing my few belongings into bags. The numbness in my chest was almost comforting—it was better than feeling anything at all. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing with calls and messages, but I ignored most of them. Finally, I glanced at the screen, overwhelmed by the flood of notifications.
[You’re divorcing Mark? Are you out of your mind?] One friend’s text screamed at me. [People used to say you two were the perfect couple! If you divorce him, no one will believe in love anymore!]
Another message came through, this one from an old college friend. [Jane, be real. Has Mark ever treated you poorly? You’ve been married for years. Is divorce really the answer now?]