Then I went upstairs, packed a small bag, and left.
I didn’t confront him.
Not because I was calm.
Because I knew if I looked at his face, I would either scream or collapse.
Possibly both.
I drove straight to my parents’ house.
And when my mother opened the door, I made it three steps into the hallway before my knees gave out.
Part 2 — “I’m Divorcing Him”
My mother didn’t ask questions immediately.
She simply wrapped her arms around me.
That made everything worse.
I had been holding myself together through the drive, telling myself not to cry too hard, not to get worked up, not to frighten myself with every ache or tightening in my stomach.
But the moment Mom held me, I broke.
“I can’t do this,” I sobbed.
She guided me toward the living room.
“Do what?”
“He’s cheating on me.”
The words sounded unreal when I said them aloud.
