He Chose Her, I Chose Us

the divorce papers my husband, Dra

ur favorite restaurant, his arm wrapped ar

cked me into signing the papers, intending for me to raise his mistress's c

and blamed me, the hatred in D

child," he snarled, shoving me a

t know m

h twins. He had made his choice, and now I was making mine. I wo

pte

ed table. My name, Kaitlyn Kemp, was on it, right n

with a bang, but with a

had secretly divo

each one a sharp shard of glass piercing my heart. My hands, usually so st

in my purse. I pulled it out, m

Can' t wait to see you tonight

. His words, once a warm blanket, now felt like a suffocat

early marriage. Each message had sparked a flutter of excitement, a ge

tion at our favorite restaurant. A bouquet of his favorite deep red roses sat o

be surprised. I was the one w

elt a strange urge to laugh, a hysterical, bitter sound that would surel

zzed with life, oblivious to the ruins of mine. I decided to go to the rest

clear view of the entrance. I sat there, the roses a heavy weight i

I saw

for more than a decade. The rising star polit

ame. His hair was impeccably styled, a few silver strands at his temples adding to his distingui

scanning the crowd for me. T

hitched. It was Chelsea Gallagher, his campaign manager. Her usually sharp featur

as pr

hat he had once reserved only for me. His gaze was so full of a

rnum. It felt like an iron fist had crushed my heart. Thi

the sudden "business trips," the increasing distance between us. And the

insisted we just sign a new set of papers, a "duplicate." I had trusted him. I had signe

e marriage papers. The

dles seemed to pierce my mind, each sensation more agonizin

y palm, but I felt nothing. My eyes remained fixed on

es, my very identity as his wife... all reduced

' t notice. He was already inside, his hand still on Chelsea' s b

a love that was never real, landed with a soft thud among the discarded coffee cups and crumpled papers. I wal