“Oh, we will talk,” I said.
“In court.”
Diane gasped. “Court?! You’re divorcing him?!
Over this?!”
I laughed. “No, Diane. I’m divorcing him because I’m tired of working myself to death while he sits on his ass.
I’m tired of his family thinking they can walk all over me. I’m done.”
Jack tried one last time. “Emily, please.
We can fix this.”
I smiled. “Jack, your stuff is in the garage. Come get it.
But you’re not coming back inside as my husband.”
His mother was losing her mind now. “You can’t do this! You’re his wife!”
“Not for much longer,” I said, then hung up.
I turned my phone on silent and watched my child walk across the stage, smiling proudly.
Filing for divorce felt like ripping off a Band-Aid. It stung at first, but the relief afterward was worth it.
I blocked Jack’s number. His parents’ numbers.
Even his cousin who tried to text me with a half-hearted “family is everything” message.
No. Respect is everything.
Jack tried one last time, sending me an email.
Subject: Let’s Be Civil Message: I don’t know why you’re doing this. We have history.
A family. You don’t just throw that away. I still love you.
Let’s talk before this goes too far.
I deleted it.
That night, I lay in my bed, in my house, with no one telling me what I owed them. No husband weighing me down. No in-laws claiming what wasn’t theirs.
Just silence and peace.
I took a deep breath, feeling lighter than I had in years.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t someone’s wife.
I was me. And I was free.
Source: amomama
