Ben never saw it coming.
“We don’t have to make this messy,” he had the nerve to say when I served him the divorce papers.
I smiled, slow and sweet.
“Oh, but we do, Ben. We really, really do.”
And it was glorious.
I took the house. The savings.
Full custody of the kids.
And then, because I believe in true justice, I made sure his boss received an anonymous package. His company had a strict morality clause—one that didn’t look kindly on high-level executives engaging in scandals. The ink on our divorce papers hadn’t even dried before Ben was being escorted out of his office, his career crumbling beneath him.
I wish I could say he begged.
He didn’t.
He raged.
“You ruined my life!” he shouted in our house, standing in what used to be our living room.
I took a sip of my coffee, standing calmly by the kitchen island. “No, Ben. You ruined your life.
I just finally let the world see it.”
His face twisted, his mouth opening like he had something else to say. But there was nothing left. Nothing for him to manipulate, no lies left to spin.
I walked past him, my keys in hand, the weight of him—the weight of us—finally gone.
And just as I stepped outside, I glanced over my shoulder.
“Forever and always, Ben,” I said, lifting my mug in a mock toast. “Just me, my brand-new life, and not a single lie in sight.”
Then I shut the door behind me. And I never looked back.
Source: amomama
