I was reading a magazine on the sofa when my husband walked up to me and said, quite calmly:
"I want to have a serious talk. I've been seeing someone else for six months now. I want to leave, file for divorce, and move in with her."
"Fine," I replied. "Do you need any help packing your bags?"
He looked absolutely floored.
"You aren't going to ask me anything? Like how this happened, or why I'd decide to walk away after twenty-five years of marriage? Just a dry 'fine'?"
"We've been married for twenty-five years, Bill. I know you like the back of my hand. You really think I didn't notice you found someone else? To be honest, I thought you would've gathered the nerve to leave sooner. You held out a long time."
Bill stayed silent. I calmly went to the closet, pulled out a suitcase, and started packing his things.
"Bill, are you taking everything, or just the newer stuff?"
He mumbled something under his breath and then snapped, "Leave it. I'll pack the rest myself."
"Suit yourself."
Half an hour later, he came into the living room and said, "Well, that's it. I'm heading out."
"Great. Leave your keys to the house on the table."
Bill gave me a questioning look.
"You're taking the car, right?" I asked.
"Yeah, I am."
"The car is yours, the house is mine. So, give me the keys."
Bill turned red at the sheer nerve of it. "The car is worth a fraction of what this house is worth!"
"Well, Bill, I'm not the one leaving you—you're leaving me. The one who stays gets the house."
He looked like he wanted to argue, but I gave him a look that shut him down instantly. Without another word, he dropped the keys on the table.
And just like that, my husband walked out the door, looking rather offended, and disappeared into the unknown.
***
A few days later, my friend Sarah called me and asked what my husband was doing over in her neighborhood.
"Living there," I answered.
"What do you mean 'living there'? With who?"
I told her the whole story. She was judgmental immediately.
"How can you just let him go? You didn't even try to talk him out of it or fight for him?"
"Why bother? I'm fifty years old, Sarah. I'm not a young girl who's going to go chasing after someone. I'm afraid if I tried to run, I'd probably just fall apart halfway there," I joked.
"But the house? He's right, you bought it together. He has a right to it."
"Sarah, did he hire you as his lawyer? Or did my husband move in with you?"
"Oh, stop it. I just feel bad for the guy. He looked so miserable."
"That's his problem now. I didn't kick him out; this was his conscious choice. You know I never nagged him or made his life difficult, but clearly, he wanted some excitement. Well, let him find it in his new life."
***
Two weeks later, Bill called.
"Jane, my knee cream is running low. Could you order some more for me? I'll Venmo you the money."
"Bill, I can order it, no problem, but this is the last time. I'll send you the link or explain to your lady where I get it."
The thing was, my soon-to-be ex-husband had never ordered anything online in his life and was terrified of internet shopping.
"Thanks, Jane."
"By the way, when are we filing the divorce papers?"
I don't know if Bill heard me or if he hung up on purpose, but I never got an answer.
Did I struggle with him leaving? Of course I did. I couldn't even sleep for the first few nights. But then I sat down and decided it was time to live for myself. The kids are grown, there are no grandkids yet, and I finally have time to focus on the person I love most: me.
***
About six weeks later, Bill showed up to pick up the cream. He had lost weight, looked pale, and his shirt was wrinkled. He looked like a man with no one to look after him, not exactly a "newlywed." I was just about to have dinner, so I figured I'd offer him some.
"Bill, I made some beef stew. Want some?"
"I'd love some," he said, brightening up immediately.
I poured him a bowl of the thickest part, just the way he likes it, added a dollop of sour cream, and some fresh herbs. I served it with the garlic knots and pickles he always loved. Bill inhaled it and asked for seconds. I gave him another bowl.
Once he finished, he stood up to leave, but then he suddenly burst into tears.
"Jane, please let me come back. I made a mistake. I don't love her. It's miserable there. I can't eat, I can't sleep... I'm going to waste away if I stay. Please, let me come home."
I gave him a hug, kissed the top of his head, and forgave him. My dear old husband came back home.
We're actually celebrating our thirtieth anniversary in a few days. Since his "mistake," Bill has been much more attentive. He buys me gifts, kisses and hugs me all the time, and showers me with compliments. I've forgiven everything and I don't even want to bring up the past. What matters is the present, not what happened before or what might happen later. Live in the moment, everyone, and remember: everything happens for a reason.
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