I never thought it would end this way.
David stood in the doorway, the divorce papers dangling from his hand like a final, cruel punctuation to the decade we'd spent together. His eyes barely met mine, his expression unreadable, as if he were delivering nothing more than a routine business report.
"We're done," he said.
Two words. Two words that tore through me with the force of a thousand broken promises.
"We're done," he repeated, slower this time, as if he were making sure I understood. "I've been seeing someone else for a while now. It's serious."
I stared at him, my mind trying to catch up with the words, but nothing made sense. We had a life together, a family. How could he stand there, so cold, so detached, and toss it all away? I blinked, feeling my legs weaken beneath me as the reality of his betrayal settled in.
He stepped forward, the papers extended in his hand. "You'll want to look these over. My lawyer says it's all fair."
Fair.
The word echoed in my mind as I stared at the envelope he was offering, like it held the sum total of our life together. I couldn't reach for it. I couldn't move. Everything felt unreal.
"I'll be by tomorrow to pack my things," he continued, his voice unnervingly calm. "We'll figure out the details with the twins. We can share custody. It'll be fine."
Fine.
Was he serious? How could it be fine? Our entire life was collapsing, and he spoke about it like it was just another negotiation. There was no emotion in his voice. No regret. No guilt. He was done with me—done with us. Just like that.
"I don't understand," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "How long?"
David sighed, his impatience seeping through. "Does it matter? It's over, Amelia. This is for the best."
For the best.
I felt a sob rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down, forcing myself to stay composed. The twins were asleep in the next room, innocent, unaware that their world was about to shatter. My arms wrapped around myself instinctively, as if I could hold the pieces of my broken heart together.
"You should've seen this coming," he added, his tone patronizing. "We haven't been happy for a long time."
We. As if this was something we had both agreed on.
I wanted to scream, to rage, to hurl every accusation at him, but all I could manage was, "What about the kids?"
"We'll work it out," he said dismissively, already turning toward the door. "They'll be fine."
Fine. Everything would be fine for David. He had someone else to go to, someone else waiting in the wings while I stood here, hollowed out by betrayal. My chest tightened, the weight of it all crushing down on me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
As the door clicked shut behind him, the silence in the room was deafening. I stood frozen, staring at the empty space where David had just been. It felt like a nightmare, like any moment I'd wake up and everything would be normal again. But it wasn't a nightmare. It was real. He was gone.
Slowly, I walked to the window, my hands trembling as I pushed it open. The night air rushed in, cool against my tear-streaked face. Below, the city lights blinked, oblivious to the chaos inside me. People were living, laughing, moving on with their lives, while mine had just collapsed into ruins.
I leaned against the windowsill, the pain in my chest so sharp it was almost physical. I thought of everything I had sacrificed, everything I had given to this marriage, only to be discarded like I was nothing. Useless. Replaceable.
For a fleeting moment, I wondered what it would feel like to just let go, to end this unbearable hurt. The drop from the window was far, the street below beckoning me with its cold, indifferent promise. Would the pain stop if I fell? Would it all be over in a heartbeat?
But then… I thought of the twins.
Their faces flashed in my mind—smiling, laughing, full of innocent joy. They needed me. They didn't deserve to lose their mother because their father had betrayed us. I couldn't let them grow up without me, no matter how broken I felt.
My grip tightened on the windowsill as I stepped back from the edge, my body shaking with sobs I could no longer hold back. I collapsed onto the floor, my knees drawn to my chest as the tears flowed freely. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the loss, the emptiness—crushed me, suffocating me in the darkness.
But somewhere, deep within that darkness, a small spark flickered. I wasn't going to let David's betrayal define me. I wasn't going to let him take everything from me.
I would survive this. For my children. For myself.
This wasn't the end.
It was the beginning.