Kept Secret After Divorce

IRISH After I had a miscarriage, my husband became cold and distant. He no longer has time for me. He's always focused on work and is constantly with his female business partner, who clearly had feelings for him even before we got married. I've already met her. She's attractive and touchy. I feel jealous, and I don't know what's happening between the two of them whenever they're alone together. I'm happy that he still comes home to me. But I feel like it's only his body that's with me — he's become so distant. I can't say for sure if he has stopped loving me, but I know he's slowly drifting away from me. And now, tears are streaming down my cheeks, and my heart is bleeding deeply as I stare at my husband’s signature on the divorce papers. It hurts. Last night we argued. I asked him about his coldness—if there was someone else—but we just ended up fighting. He said there was no one else, but he’s breaking down inside. Until now, he blames himself for the loss of our baby. I never held him responsible for the loss of our baby. It was an accident. I expected him to be stronger in facing our pain. Perhaps I expected more from him than I should have. "He’s also giving this to you, Irish." His lawyer, Jones, placed a paper on the center table that I knew had his handwriting on it. I took it and read it. 'I’m truly sorry, Irish. This is what’s best for both of us. I have failed our marriage and cannot forgive myself for what happened. I’m a mess right now, and I need to get away. I’m doing this for your sake as well. Please live your life happily. I’m leaving the house to you — you’re free to sell it. As for the ring — you can throw it away. Please forget about me; I’ve been a terrible husband. I’m so sorry.' I swiftly wiped the tears that once again streamed from both my eyes. With trembling hands, I folded the letter and gently placed it back on the center table. Reading it hurts so much. He's being so unfair. "I want to know if he’s having an affair," I said to Jones. Jones is both his friend and his lawyer. If anyone else knows his secret, it would be him. I looked Jones in the eyes, hoping he’d crack. But he avoided my gaze. “I can’t answer that, Irish. My business here is to get you to sign that paper.” My eyes settled on the paper again. Is this really where it all ends? After everything we've been through, how could he so easily choose to walk away? So quick. So heartless. What a coward. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the ache in my chest, and reached for the pen. My fingers hesitated. I sat there for a moment, unsure—trying to make sense of everything, trying to feel less. I didn’t know what to feel, honestly. It was a blur of pain, confusion, and a hint of anger that I couldn’t even direct properly. In the end, with a heavy heart and an empty mind, I signed the papers. Maybe this is for the better. After signing it, I wiped my cheek once more. I strengthened myself. I didn’t want Jones to see how deeply hurt I am at this moment. Besides, I shouldn't let myself get stressed. "That should be everything." I handed him the papers, avoiding his eyes. He took it without a word and slipped it into his bag. "Yes," he said simply. I drew in a deep breath, trying to steady the storm inside me. Beside me, my mother wrapped me in a quiet embrace. I gave her arm a gentle tap, a silent signal that I’d be fine—somehow. Jones slowly stood up. Our eyes met—just for a moment—and in his gaze, I caught the quiet ache in his stare—a silent apology, a trace of understanding. "Irish, I hope you find happiness," he said gently. "The truth is, you’re both broken... and I don’t think you’re the cure for each other. Maybe walking away is the only way forward." "It would’ve meant more if he had the guts to say what he wrote in that letter to my face." "He’s been really busy these past few weeks. The company’s had a lot of problems lately." I let out a faint, bitter smile—one laced with disappointment. His work always managed to outrun me, to come first every single time. "Of course. I understand," I replied giving a small nod. "Goodbye, Irish." He eventually walked out of the house and left. When Mom and I were the only ones left, the pain in my chest twisted again, like my heart was being squeezed tight. I took a deep breath, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears from streaming down both sides of my face. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself as the tears flowed freely. Only now did the full weight of the truth hit me—Kash and I were really over. He left me after everything we’d been through in the past two years. Didn’t even try to fight for me. I wish he had... at least for the sake of our marriage. Through the steady stream of my tears and the sound of my sobs, Mom stayed by my side, never letting go. Her arms wrapped around me, firm and warm, as if trying to hold together the pieces of my broken heart. And even without looking, I knew—she was crying with me. "You don't need a man in your life, my child. You are strong. You can stand on your own. And as long as I live, you will never be alone." “I… I’m pregnant again, Mom,” I said, my voice barely above a breath. She froze beside me. No gasp, no words—just stillness. The kind that says everything. I couldn’t blame her. I was still trying to believe it myself. After I lost the first one, the doctor told me it would be difficult—unlikely, even. I remember clutching those words like a sentence, trying to accept a future without ever hearing a heartbeat again. But here I am. Just a year later. A second chance growing inside me—quiet, small, but real. "When did you find out?" "Just yesterday, Mom," I murmured. "I was going to tell him... I had the words ready. But when I looked at him, something else came out. I don't even know if he'd be happy about it—not after what he confessed last night." Mom pulled me into another tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Irish," she whispered into my hair. "It hurts me to see you go through this. Looks like your story is starting to echo mine. But hear me—you’re not alone. We’ll raise your child with all the love the world ever failed to give us. We’ll fill in the gaps. I promise you that." I nodded, too choked up to speak. "Yes, Mom," was all I managed, my voice trembling as the tears continued to fall—soft, steady, and full of everything I couldn’t say.