I thought about our past, the dates, the wedding, the birth of our twins. I realized I did love that version of Paige, but this Paige, the one who had hurt me so deeply, was different. Yet they were the same person. It was a complicated feeling, but I knew my answer.
“No, I don’t, Paige. Not that way. Not anymore.”
The weight of those words hung in the air. The phrase that had once crushed me now left her devastated. Tears streamed down her face as she backed away from me like I was a stranger. She sat on the bed and cried, and I felt for her.
I knew that pain all too well.
“You’re lying,” she said, refusing to believe me. “I know you still love me.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t,” I said gently. “Too much has happened.”
Her sobs filled the room, and I didn’t know what to do. Comfort her, stand there, or leave. In the end, I just stood there, letting her process her emotions. After a few minutes, she wiped her tears and looked at me with a mix of anger and sadness.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“What? No.”
“You’re telling me you don’t love putting me in my place after what I did,” she accused, her words laced with bitterness.
Her words stung, but I reflected for a moment. While I didn’t enjoy her suffering, there was a sense of justice in the air. After everything she’d put me through, it felt like the scales had finally balanced.
“Fine,” I said calmly. “Let’s say I did enjoy it. Could you blame me?”
She looked ready to argue, but I raised my hand to stop her. “Just listen. You gave up on me, Paige. You cheated, ridiculed, and asked for a divorce, but I still stood by you.”
“I didn’t expose you to the kids or make the divorce messy. I let you live your life with Derek without complaining. Even after all that, you didn’t find anything worth fighting for in me. But now, after I lose a few pounds, suddenly you do?”
“It’s not just the weight,” she cut in quickly. “Yes, I’m more attracted to you now, but it’s more than that. You’re different, more confident. You go out and do things. This is the you I’ve been wanting all along.”
That last sentence hit me hard. She wanted me to be someone else because who I was hadn’t been enough for her. She still didn’t get it, and I doubted she ever would. I could have argued with her about how selfish and flawed her logic was, expecting me to change without giving us a chance. But what was the point?
I no longer needed her to see things from my perspective. For the first time, I truly didn’t care what she thought. I was finally free.
“Do us both a favor, Paige,” I said firmly. “Sign the papers. Dragging this out isn’t helping either of us.”
Without waiting for a response, I left the room, hearing her cry as I walked away.
Six months later, it was official. The divorce papers in my hand were the only reminder of my life with Paige, aside from the two kids now arguing over the remote in the living room.
“Josh, Ally, don’t make me come out there,” I called from my bedroom.
Their shouting turned into hushed bickering. I sighed, refolding the documents and slipping them back into the envelope. No matter how much you’ve moved on, the finality of divorce stings. It’s the closing of a chapter, a bittersweet mix of pain and a fresh start.