Divorce papers
First Chapter (Melissa’s POV)
The screech of Danny's car pulling into the garage caught my attention first. I peeped through the blinds to be sure it was him before returning to my seat. Of course it was my husband. He was thirty minutes late today, but it changed nothing.
It would be the usual routine—a twisted frown on his face, one I often wondered if he wore all day or switched on at the front porch. A mumbled response to my greeting. Hurried footsteps into our room, as if he were avoiding acknowledging my existence. He would later come downstairs after twenty minutes, take a few spoonfuls of the meal I served him, push the plate aside, and head out once more.
And just like every other night, I would lie in the sitting room, watching the clock crawl towards midnight, waiting for him to finally creep in and sneak into bed, only to repeat the cycle the next day. Most times, I fell asleep on the couch from exhaustion and woke up to an empty house in the morning. But the wet bathtub was always a sign that he had come home and taken a shower before heading to work.
Tonight something was different
He didn’t ignore me or hurry upstairs. Instead, he came down to the dining room where I sat, staring at a plate of tacos that now looked cold and irritating to my eyes.
“Hey, you’re home,” I said, not bothering to look up. I didn’t even expect a response.
“Yeah.”
He threw an envelope at me and shifted to the other end of the table, adjusting his tie into a loose knot.
“What is this?” I turned in my seat to face him, but he was looking away—avoiding my eyes like he had been doing for the past three months.
“It’s…” He stammered, which was strange. “Here, just sign it.” He tossed a pen that hit the glass surface of the dining table, clattering toward me.
Curiosity gnawed at me. At least I knew for certain that whatever was in the envelope required my signature. I tore open the flap and pulled out the papers inside. The bold, capitalized heading of the document tumbled before my eyes, making my vision blur.
“What is this, Danny?” I held the paper up to him, as if I had suddenly lost the ability to read. “I mean… why are you giving this to me?” I rephrased.
“Because I need you to sign it.” His voice was flat, final. “I already explained that, Mel.” He finished loosening his tie, holding it in one hand and his briefcase in the other.
“Yes, you did. But I don’t understand why you want me to sign divorce papers, Danny.”
I didn’t know how I managed to sound so calm when my chest was tightening with both anger and fear. I wanted to walk up to him and slap whatever spell he was under.
I knew things had been cold for a while after we got back from our honeymoon. An eerie silence had crept into our home, but I thought it was work. I thought it was exhaustion—from planning a wedding, a honeymoon, and settling into a new home. I thought we needed time to adjust.
Even though it felt strange that we were newlyweds already facing a crisis, I believed it was something we could talk about whenever he was ready.
Now he was serving me divorce papers. Seriously?
“Don’t act confused Mel, you know exactly what this is.” He finally looked at me then, his eyes sharp, impatient. “It means we're done. Don't drag this out.”
“I made mashed potatoes and chicken sauce. There’s hotdog too.” My voice surprised even me. “Go in, take a shower. We’ll talk about this after you’ve eaten and you’re in your right senses.”
I placed the papers back into the envelope and dropped them on the table before pushing myself to my feet. My legs felt swollen, glued to the floor.
“Why do you do this?” he snapped. “Why do you always pretend nothing is wrong?” His jaw tightened.
“Mel, sign the damn papers! I don't want a conversation, I don’t want to eat your dinner of chicken or hotdog or whatever it is you made. I just want this finished.”
The veins at the side of his head pulsed violently. Beneath the anger he tried to show, there was pain in his voice. His fingers curled tightly around his tie, forming a fist. Somewhere behind the anger, something flickered— to quick to name. Guilt, maybe. Or relief. I wasn't sure which frightened me more.
A part of me wanted to reach out—to touch him, if only to confirm he was still real and not some stranger wearing my husband’s face.
But I was closer to breaking than being strong, and I couldn’t let myself fall apart in front of him.
I picked up the plate of tacos and walked into the kitchen, closing the door behind me. I had done a good job holding back the sting in my eyes out there. If I had said one more word, I knew the tears would have fallen. My throat felt tight—too tight. So tight it made my head spin.
I turned on the tap, letting cold water run over my fingers before splashing some on my face.
“Breathe, Mel.” I whispered grabbing the edge of the sink “Just breathe.”
This wasn’t happening. It had to be a nightmare.
How would I face the world if this really happened? A divorce barely a year after a flashy, talk-of-the-town wedding? It was the kind of news that flew fast, spreading like wildfire. It wouldn’t take long before colleagues at work caught wind of it. My parents. The firms I had worked with. Everyone would know.
This wasn’t the time to hide behind closed doors and cry.
I wasn't ready to be discarded like this. Not without answers. Not without a fight. I was going to fix my marriage. And if Danny thought he could erase me from his life so
easily then he had forgotten the woman he married.
