You're leaving me here? I looked directly at her. "You invited another man to your birthday because you wanted freedom." I paused. "Now you have it."
Then I walked out. Samuel followed me outside. He didn't say anything until we reached the parking lot. "You okay?" I opened my truck door.
"I'm fine." He nodded. "Then let's go." I drove away without looking back. The next morning Angela called me 12 times.
I didn't answer once. By Monday morning Angela had changed tactics. The angry calls stopped. The messages became calmer. She wrote that she wanted to talk.
Then she said she was sorry. An hour later another message came saying I had embarrassed her in front of everyone. I didn't answer any of them. I forwarded everything to Michael. He called me that afternoon.
"She's asking whether you'll reconsider." "No." "She also wants the divorce delayed." "No." He was quiet for a moment.
Then we're moving forward. Good. The next few weeks were straightforward. Angela tried to make the divorce emotional. I kept it practical.
She wanted the house. Michael reminded her that I had purchased it before the marriage. She wanted part of my company. The records showed that the company existed before we married and that she had never been an owner. She challenged some of our joint savings.
Those were divided properly. There was nothing dramatic because I had prepared before the party. One evening I returned to the old house to collect the last of my things. Angela was there. She stood in the kitchen when I walked in.
You couldn't even come talk to me. I've been talking to you through the lawyers. That's not what I mean. I put a box on the counter. "What do you want, Angela?"
She stared at me. I want to understand how you became so cold. I'm not cold. You filed for divorce without even giving me a chance. You had seven years.
She looked down. "I made one mistake." I shook my head. "No, you made a decision." She stepped closer.
I never thought you'd actually leave. I know. Jacob meant nothing. Then why did you book the hotel? She didn't answer.
I picked up the box. That's what I thought. She followed me toward the door. "Tom." I stopped.
"What?" "I loved you." I looked at her. "Maybe you did." Her expression tightened.
"But you didn't respect me." She had no response. I opened the door. Behind me, she said, "Are you really not coming back?" I turned around.
No. Then I left. Outside Samuel was waiting in his car. He had offered to help me move the rest of my things. As we loaded the boxes, he asked, "You feel better?"
I thought about it. "I feel finished." He nodded. "That's probably better." It was.