What do you want me to say? I don't know. That makes two of us. " She gave a weak laugh. Then her expression became serious. "I want you to know that what happened with him wasn't because you weren't enough. " I looked at her.
Maybe that's what you need to believe. It's the truth. Maybe. She took a breath. I loved you.
I believe you and I still do. I nodded, but love wasn't enough. She looked away. We stood there for another few seconds. Then she asked, "Are you seeing someone? " "No. " "Would you tell me if you were? " "No. " She looked at me.
I explained. "Because once the divorce is final, my personal life won't be your business anymore. " She nodded slowly. "That makes sense. " I got into my car. Before closing the door, I looked at her one last time. Janice, she looked up.
Take care of yourself. Her face tightened. You really mean that? Yes. She smiled through her tears.
I wish things had been different. So do I. I drove away. That afternoon, Aaron called. The final documents are ready.
We just need the last signatures. Send them over. You're sure? Yes. He paused.
Then we'll finish it. I signed everything that evening. Janice signed the following morning. There was no courtroom confrontation, no dramatic speech, just signatures, filing fees, and a judge approving the paperwork. The marriage that had taken years to build disappeared into a stack of documents.
A week later, Aaron called again. It's final. I sat quietly at my desk. Okay, that's all. I looked out the window.
That's all. After I hung up, I expected to feel relieved. Instead, I felt strangely empty. Not because I wanted Janice back, because something that had once been my entire life was suddenly finished. That evening, I went out for dinner alone.
Halfway through the meal, my phone vibrated. A message from Janice. I stared at her name for a few seconds before opening it. It contained only one sentence. I hope you had a better birthday this year.
I read it twice. Then I put my phone face down. For the first time, I didn't feel the need to answer. A few months passed before I heard from Janice again. By then, the house was gone.
The divorce was final, and I had moved into a smaller apartment across town. I had started running again. I worked longer hours. I met friends for dinner instead of going straight home every evening. My life wasn't exciting, but it was mine.
One Saturday afternoon, Colin called me. You doing anything tonight? Nothing planned. Come over. We're grilling.
I'll be there. It was the kind of evening I hadn't realized I missed. A few friends were there, music was playing, and nobody asked me how the divorce was going. For once, I wasn't the guy whose wife had cheated on him. I was just later that night, while I was driving home, my phone rang.
Janice. I almost ignored it. Then I answered. Hello. Hi.