Then I laughed. A raw, ugly laugh that tore out of my chest.
And then the tears came, hot and relentless, pouring down my face.
There was no future left for us. Not anymore.
I had no one to blame but myself. I'd loved too deeply, and I'd loved the wrong person.
After my shower, I caught sight of the wedding photo on the wall. The two of us, leaning into each other, smiling like we had the whole world figured out. So bright. So happy.
I reached up, peeled my half of the photo away from the frame, and dropped it into the trash.
I called a lawyer friend. Within the hour, a courier delivered a set of divorce papers to my door. I signed my name, then had the courier take them straight to the company. Marina would see them first thing in the morning.
When it was done, I felt strangely light. Like I'd set down something I'd been carrying for years.
But then the weight came rushing back.
My son. He was only four. What about him?
That night, Marina didn't come home. Again.
The next morning, I went to my parents' house, planning to take Nathan Simmons to preschool.
But Marina had beaten me there.
She'd already shown my parents the divorce papers.