Dear Wife, Let's Divorce!

ir felt thin and sharp in my lungs. My chest ached with a dull, persistent throb. For a moment, I felt nothing but that physical

e denial, the pathetic hope, the one-month charade-it wa

uckles were white. I didn't go home. I couldn't. It wasn't my home anymore. I checked int

Draw up the divorce papers. I want everything to go to her. The house, the

es," I said, cutting him off before he could ask any questions. "F

ation consultant. "Switzerland,

. Every call was a brick being removed from the structure of my old existence. It was p

case. Sarah was there, meditating. She o

she said, her t

, pulling a suitcase fro

going s

to the bag without bothering to fold them.

ced myself for an argument, for te

e mountain trip didn't provide t

said, my voice dripping wit

ase shut and walke

rn around. "Don't forget your heart medication.

her primary concern was whether I'd remembered my pills. It confirmed everything. I wasn't a h

range urge. I opened my laptop and pulled up the live feed from

, grabbing a beer from my fridge, putting his feet up on my coffee table. A few minutes later, Sarah came downsta

one," M

her head on his shoulder. "He sai

ng. All that emotional baggage. It

reed. "So much

brating my departure. But that wasn't the worst of

e I had custom-built for her with specialized spice racks.

get it?"

pulled out a small, ornate key. My key. The one I kept on m

d stol

out on the counter. They were geological surveys, zoning permits, propr

erything?"

se, they'll be able to underbid Liam's company by a fraction and replicate the core de

er cheek. "And a very, very generous divorce settleme

dent. It was all a plan. A cold, calculated, vicious plan to ruin me, steal my work, and take my mone

enough. I grabbed the hotel lamp and threw it at the mirror, which exploded in a shower of glass. I tore the curtains from the windows, kicked the chair acro