"If that's the case, we should just get a divorce."
As I turned to leave, Aaron's voice thundered behind me,
"Jane, if you walk out, don't bother coming back."
That sentence felt like a release.
I had always feared solitude.
But during our six years together, that fear was overshadowed by the dread of losing him.
I had thought I couldn't handle the weight of those words, yet, hearing them now, I felt liberated.
I no longer needed to cling to a man who didn't love me.
I no longer feared the loss of something I never really had.
...
I remained silent.
Cautiously not to disturb anyone inside.
I gently opened the door, then quietly closed it.
The room buzzed with noise.
"Go after her, Aaron!"
"We may not like her much, but you're still married."
"She's too petty. You need someone classy like Lily."
"Forget her, let's just drink!"
...
On my way home, Lily texted me a picture of them all having a blast.
[Better off without you.]
[Jane, Aaron has always loved me. You were always the odd one out.]
[Take the hint already.]
Her message dripped with scorn and triumph.
I texted back: [No need for advice, trash belongs in the trash.]
Then I blocked her.
This marriage was a mistake from the get-go.