In the evening, after finishing my father’s funeral, I returned home. Damon was still not back.
The empty house felt cold and silent, except for the picture of my father I had just hung on the wall, which brought a faint sense of life.
I didn’t know where Damon went after celebrating Carol’s birthday, and he hadn’t told me.
I remembered how, when we first got married, Damon was just like any other young husband, constantly updating me on his whereabouts, even though we worked at the same hospital. He eagerly shared everything, even texting before surgeries.
But everything changed when Carol transferred to our hospital and was assigned to Damon’s department. They started spending every day together, from attending meetings to picking up takeout.
Damon used to come to my department during his breaks, but now he spent most of his free time chatting with Carol.
I confronted him about the change, but he looked at me helplessly. "Carol and I are college friends. She just joined our hospital, and it’s normal for me to look out for her as a senior."
He promised he only loved me and told me not to overthink it. I believed him and smiled, nodding.
I still vividly remember how he cried on our wedding day, saying he’d always be good to me.
Once or twice was bearable, but the repeated occurrences wore me down.
My doubts turned into disappointment.
Disappointment from his repeated refusals to explain.
Disappointment from his constant choice of Carol over me.
I now felt I no longer had the courage to endure this disappointment.
I picked up my phone and dialed my lawyer relative.
“Ashy, why are you thinking about divorce right after your father’s passing?” came the concerned voice on the other end.
I choked up, unsure of what to say. “I’m just tired.”
Sensing my sorrow, she didn’t press further. Instead, she offered a few words of advice. “It’s important for a couple to stick together. Unless it’s a matter of principle, I suggest you think it over.”
In the eyes of my family and friends, Damon was the perfect husband. He wasn’t just my father’s fellow but also my colleague at the same hospital.
To them, we seemed like a loving couple without any issues. But only I knew how exhausting unreciprocated love could be.
I no longer wanted to be the one constantly pursuing. Being alone, free from the strain of a tiring relationship, seemed more appealing. I had realized this the moment my father was taken into surgery.
“I’ve made up my mind. I want a divorce.”
With my father gone, the person who loved me most had left. I decided it was time to be my own support, no longer relying on anyone else.