After I Chased Off His Mistress, He Regretted My Divorce

On our fifth wedding anniversary, Nathan Lawson's first love sent me an intimate photo of them. He had one arm around Vanessa Reed's waist, and she leaned against his chest, smiling at the camera as if she had already won. A moment later, Nathan called. "Vanessa says you've started taking cases where you persuade the other woman to walk away." He gave a soft laugh, as though none of this mattered. "She keeps pushing me to choose between the two of you. You're good at talking people around, aren't you? Convince her to accept things as they are and stop making a scene. How much do you charge?" After a brief silence, I said, "50,000." A notification from my payment app chimed. You received $50,000. The transfer memo contained only four words: Talk Vanessa Into Leaving. I picked up a pen, opened my worn leather ledger, and wrote at the top of a blank page: Talk Vanessa Into Leaving. It had started 2 weeks earlier, when my best friend confided in me about her failing marriage. I helped her make sense of what she wanted, then spoke to the woman who refused to leave her husband alone. In the end, the woman accepted a settlement and cut off all contact. Once word got around, people began paying me to help them sort out their relationships. My friends jokingly called me a "relationship fixer". When Nathan heard about it, he merely ruffled my hair. "It's good for you to have something to do. You shouldn't stay cooped up at home all day." He saw it as nothing more than a harmless hobby. That night, he became my client. The anniversary dinner I had prepared was still on the dining table. The steaks had gone cold, and a skin had formed over the mushroom soup. The number 5 candle had tipped into the frosting, turning the cake into a joke no one was there to laugh at. Beside the cake sat a dark blue velvet box, the anniversary gift Nathan had asked his assistant to deliver. Even the card inside had been printed rather than handwritten. I left the box unopened. I took the divorce agreement I had printed earlier from the drawer, turned to the last page, and signed my name: Wendy Ford. At the very bottom of the drawer lay a yellowing offer letter from Linden Cove Community Library, inviting me to work there as an assistant librarian. I had shown Nathan the offer letter last year. I told him that opening the windows let in the salty sea air and that a long seawall ran behind the library. He took my hand and promised, "Once this project is over, I'll walk the whole seawall with you." But one project followed another, and the offer letter remained in the drawer for 1 full year. That evening, I contacted the library manager again. She told me the position was still open and that I could come whenever I was ready. At 10:30 p.m., the keypad lock beeped. Nathan came in carrying chicken soup and a bottle of antacids. He took off his suit jacket, noticed the untouched dinner, and frowned. "Why haven't you eaten?" He crouched in front of me and cupped my cold feet in both hands. "Why are your feet so cold? Did you forget to eat again?" He rubbed his palms together to warm them, then wrapped them around my feet again. "I've sorted your pills by dose. Have some soup first." I used to treasure this side of him. He remembered that I had a sensitive stomach, that I was always cold, and which medications made me drowsy. Whenever he came home and comforted me, I found some way to convince myself that I still mattered to him. I was about to pull my feet away when I caught a faint trace of fir-scented perfume on his cuff. Vanessa had posted a photo of the same perfume on her i********: feed the day before. My stomach clenched. Nathan didn't notice me stiffen. He lowered his head and picked at the tight knot in the plastic bag. "Vanessa fell apart again tonight. She had another nightmare," he spoke, as though that explained everything. "She stood by me through the hardest years of my life. I can't turn my back on her now that she's struggling." He lifted a spoonful of soup to my lips. The smell turned my stomach, and I turned my face away. His hand froze in midair. "Wendy, don't be difficult." He sighed as though he were soothing a stubborn child. "We can celebrate another night. If something happened to Vanessa, it'd be too late. You know what's more important right now." He set down the bowl and walked toward the balcony. The sliding door remained slightly open, so I heard him lower his voice as he comforted Vanessa. "Don't be scared. I'm home now. I just got Wendy to have some soup. I'll come over soon and stay with you." He had used the same gentle voice with both of us. Nathan knew how to make each of us feel cared for while never choosing between us. I pulled my suitcase from beneath the bed and laid the offer letter flat at the bottom. The 50,000 dollars would cover the rent on a small place in Linden Cove and give me several months to start over. I reached for the switch by the front door. For the first time in 5 years, I turned off the entryway light I had always left on for him. "Why did you turn off the light?" Nathan asked when he came back inside. I pushed the suitcase deep into the closet and answered calmly, "No reason. I just realized I don't need to leave it on anymore."