Mike and I hadn’t been happy for a long time. It wasn’t just a normal case of falling out of love. Mike was obsessed with his image. He was all about having flashy cars, the biggest house on the block, and wearing only designer clothes.
All of it was just a show, and I had been playing my part for too long. The cracks started to show, and when the arguments became more frequent, I knew the inevitable was just around the corner.
The thing is, I wasn’t afraid of the divorce. I knew Mike well, and I knew exactly how this would play out.
He didn’t care about saving the marriage. No, all he wanted was to win – win the house, win the money, win the divorce.
All I wanted was to be free from this pretentious lifestyle. But that didn’t mean I was going to let him take advantage of me. So, I let Mike have what he wanted, but with a little twist.
It was a Tuesday, and Mike came home late again. I was in the kitchen, pretending to look at my phone and not paying attention to him when he stormed in.
“We need to talk,” he said.
I sighed and tried to hide my boredom. “What now?”
He slammed his keys on the counter, and I could feel his frustration. He always got like this when things didn’t go his way at work, and I was always the easiest target.
“I’m done,” he said in a low and tight voice. “I want a divorce.”
I looked up at him with a blank expression. Finally. I nodded slowly, like I was just realizing it, but in reality, I had been preparing for this moment for weeks.
“Okay,” I said simply.
He frowned and looked surprised. “That’s it? No fight? No begging?”
I shrugged. “What’s the point?”
For a moment, he looked confused, like I had taken away his power. He was expecting me to fight for him to stay.
But I just needed to give him enough rope to hang himself.
The divorce negotiations were as bad as I had expected. We sat across from each other in a sterile conference room, with lawyers standing beside us. Mike was listing every little thing he wanted. It was like he was reading off a grocery list.
