After His Birthday Snub, I Chose Divorce

For my birthday, my husband, Jeremy Bright, got me a pair of shoes that didn't fit at all. I stared down at the too-big shoes on the coffee table and sat in silence for a long beat before I finally told him I wanted a divorce. He stared at me, completely confused. "Seriously? You're making a big deal out of this tiny thing?" I glared at him, getting angrier at his audacity to be in disbelief. "Giving me size 40 shoes that don't fit is a tiny thing, right?" I scoffed. "Forgetting our wedding anniversary is another tiny thing, I guess. Oh, and how about losing our wedding rings? Maybe that's obviously nothing worth caring about either. And when I was in surgery, you were out on a date with a girl you knew from college? That's just the smallest, most insignificant thing of all, isn't it?" I shoved the shoes hard back into his hands, the stiff sole digging sharply into his palm. "Tell me. In your book, what actually counts as a big deal? I want a divorce. Clear your schedule this week so we can go to the civil affairs bureau and file for divorce." Jeremy rubbed the space between his eyebrows and sighed. "C'mon, baby, don't be ridiculous." Over the last few years, we'd fought so much and threatened divorce so many times we'd lost count. He figured this time was no different from all the rest, all bark and no bite. That changed when I set the divorce agreement down in front of him. ***** Jeremy and I had been married for seven years. In that time, he'd clawed his way up from dead broke, grinding through every obstacle thrown his way until he became the hotshot rising star of the tech industry everyone talked about. Everyone was jealous I'd landed such a high-potential guy. And to be fair, he was a good husband by all traditional standards. He always told me where he was going and what he was doing, no matter how busy he was. Even after he hit it big, he never got tangled up in any cheating rumors. By all rights, I should have been thrilled. Isn't that what everyone says online? A husband who brings home the big bucks and doesn't hover? That's the dream life, right? I told myself that exact thing at first, too. That all changed when I ended up in the hospital recently. It wasn't anything serious, just a procedure to remove a nasal polyp. But it was my first ever surgery, and I was a total ball of nerves in the days leading up to it. Jeremy was swamped with work back then, and the more I talked about how anxious I was, the more annoyed he got. "It's just a tiny surgery. Stop being so dramatic." I froze where I stood. Of course, I knew it was a minor procedure. But I was just a regular person, and regular people get scared when they're facing something they've never been through before. All I wanted was a single, soft line of comfort from him. He must have realized he'd crossed a line, because he apologized right away. "Sorry, baby. I'll be right there with you tomorrow, I promise." But he bailed, in the end. He never showed up, not even after I was out of surgery. His secretary was the one who finally showed up with a bouquet of flowers, her smile tight and awkward. "Mrs. Bright, there was an emergency meeting. President Bright flew to the UK this morning." I glanced at my phone. Not a single message from him. I couldn't even remember when he'd gotten so cheap with his time that he wouldn't even shoot me a 10-second text. I stared at the empty screen and laughed bitterly. "Got it. Thanks for letting me know." Jeremy knew full well he was the only person I had to lean on in this entire city. Once the anesthesia wore off, sharp, stabbing waves of pain throbbed in my nose over and over. A hundred times, I almost sobbed out loud from the pain, but I bit it back, burying my face in the pillow and sniffling softly into the sheets. I didn't notice the figure in white standing in the doorway, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, watching me for God knows how long. I only lifted my head when my eyes were swollen and bleary from crying, and realized it was a doctor in a white lab coat. "Need a hand with anything?" His expression was calm, his tone gentle as a warm breeze. I froze for a second, swiping the tears out of my eyes to get a better look, and realized with a jolt that the man in front of me was an old acquaintance. Well, not just any old acquaintance if I were to be honest... He was an ex-boyfriend. A flood of memories crashed through my mind all at once, and my face flamed red in an instant. "N-no, I'm fine, thanks," I stammered. He looked at me quietly for a few long seconds, then sighed softly in resignation and stepped closer. "Then why are you crying?" I prodded lightly at my nose with a finger. "It hurts." I'd daydreamed about running into Anthony Jackson a hundred times over the years, but never in a million years did I imagine it would be like this, when I was at my most unkempt and embarrassed. He moved closer, holding up a small penlight and waving it gently in front of my face. "Tilt your head up. Let me take a look." I went completely numb all over. I just sat there, stock-still, and let him do his checkup. "Nothing's wrong. I'll write you a prescription for some painkillers. Take one when the pain gets too bad to handle," he said. Then he glanced at me again, "And don't bury your face in the covers to cry, okay? It'll slow down your recovery. I'm on shift tonight, so just call for me if you need anything." My mind was totally blank by then. I just mumbled a quiet "mm-hmm" in response. The only thought bouncing around my head was: When did Anthony come back to the country? If I'd known he worked here, I never would've come to this hospital in the first place. Luckily for me, he was considerate enough not to linger. As soon as he finished the checkup, he turned and left the room.