In my past life, my husband, David, and I spent thirty happy years together.
Then, on my fiftieth birthday, he sat me down and told me he was in love with one of his students, Claire Mitchell.
I thought he was having some kind of midlife crisis. No matter what he said, I refused to sign the divorce papers.
When Claire realized she couldn’t have him, she moved abroad. Not long after, word came back that she had married someone else.
On the day of her wedding, my husband couldn’t focus on the road. He crashed his car and ended up paralyzed.
I spent the next fifteen years by his bedside, caring for him.
Right before he died, he held my hand, his voice shaking. “My biggest regret in this life was marrying you. If I get another chance, I’ll be braver.”
Our children blamed me for his death.
Later, when I was the one who could no longer walk, they, one a corporate executive and the other a successful returnee from overseas, dumped me in the cheapest nursing home they could find.
After I died, they scattered my ashes in a gutter. I could still see the satisfaction on their faces as they said, “If it weren’t for you, Dad and Claire would’ve been happy together long ago. You were cruel. You never deserved a happy ending.”
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband asked me for a divorce.
—
By six in the morning, I was already busy getting everything ready.
I cooked the dishes, mixed the filling, kneaded the dough, and rolled out every single pastry by hand.
The whole day, I was stuck in the kitchen, so exhausted I could barely straighten my back.
My husband spent his time either working in his study or puttering around with his snake plants on the balcony.
My son, Jason Harrington, was the first to arrive. He brought his father a case of premium coffee beans and ten cartons of Marlboro cigarettes.
But when he turned to me, he handed me a plastic bag filled with rotten fruit that had already turned black.
“We bought these before Christmas, but Lily said she couldn’t finish them, so she told me to bring them to you.”
He said it with a smile, as if there were nothing wrong with it.
I didn’t say anything. I just carried the fruit into the kitchen.
Not long after, my daughter, Megan Harrington, showed up too.
The fish was simmering in the kitchen, and the afternoon sunlight spilled across the living room.
My children sat around their father, chatting idly.
In that warm, happy scene, I was the only one who seemed out of place.
Soon, the food was on the table.
Jason raised his glass first.
“Dad, let me drink to you. If it weren’t for you setting the example, I wouldn’t be where I am today. You’re not just my father, you’re my biggest inspiration.”
Megan stood up too. “Dad, if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have the life we do. I’ll drink to that.”
After taking a sip, she took a bite of food and frowned.
“Mom, this is too salty.”
They all seemed to have forgotten they were here to celebrate my fiftieth birthday.
“Let me say something.”
My husband downed his third drink and set his glass down hard on the table, as if he had finally made up his mind.
“Evelyn, there’s something I have to tell you. I’ve fallen for someone else. One of my students.”
“We’ve been together for a while now. She’s young, and she doesn’t feel secure, so I want to… give her a real commitment.”
I gripped my fork tightly.
Before I could speak, Jason cut in excitedly.
“Dad, you finally said it. Honestly, not everyone has that kind of courage. Either way, I’ve got your back.”
Megan started clapping. “Congrats on finding love again, Dad. Come on, let’s toast to true love not caring about age.”
The three of them raised their glasses together.
I was the only one who kept my head down, like an outsider.
“Come on, Mom, don’t ruin the mood.”
“Right. Dad found true love. Shouldn’t you be happy for him?”
Their gazes were full of reproach, as if they were looking at a child who didn’t know any better.
I looked at the food growing cold on the table and let out a bitter laugh.
Then I pulled a crumpled divorce agreement from my pocket.
“Fine. I’ll give you what you want.”
The room fell into an eerie silence.
David hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. He could barely hide his excitement.
“Evelyn, you really mean it?”
I pushed the agreement toward him, letting my actions speak for themselves.
My calmness seemed to throw the three of them off.
David picked up the paper and carefully smoothed it out.
I could tell he was pleased with how the assets were divided.
The house we lived in had been mine before the marriage.
I gave up everything we had acquired after we got married, splitting the savings fifty-fifty. I had my pension anyway, so I wasn’t worried about the future.
Mostly, I just didn’t want to keep fighting with him.
Just as David was about to sign, he noticed that my name was already written there. His pen paused for a moment.
Then he signed quickly.
As if he were afraid I’d change my mind the second he hesitated.
Only then did Jason get up and pour me my first drink of the day.
“That’s the way, Mom. You’ve got to see things clearly. Dad has a right to go after happiness too.”
Meanwhile, Megan was already pestering her father about when he would bring the woman over for dinner.
“Mom, Claire loves lobster. You should buy some, and make sure to pick the big, meaty ones…”
I cut her off flatly. “It’s getting late. All of you should go.”
I said all of you.
Jason’s hand froze halfway to his chopsticks.
Megan’s smile vanished instantly.
David stared at me, clearly confused. “Evelyn… what do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what I said.” I looked at each of them in turn. “You signed the papers. This is my house. So now you can all leave.”
For a second, no one moved.
Then Jason frowned. “Mom, are you seriously throwing us out over this?”
I looked at him and almost laughed.
Over this?
Over my husband asking for a divorce at my fiftieth birthday dinner.
Over my son calling that courage.
Over my daughter toasting the woman who helped ruin my marriage.
Over a lifetime spent serving people who had already decided I was disposable.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m seriously throwing you out.”
They left one by one, stiff-faced and unhappy, as though I were the one being unreasonable.
After the door closed, I took out one of David’s treasured bottles of wine, poured myself a full glass, and sat back down at the table.
I drank with the feast I’d spent all day making.
I didn’t clean up.
I didn’t save the leftovers.
I didn’t care.
Then I went to my bedroom, stretched out on the bed, and slept better than I had in years.
There was no thunderous snoring beside me.
No one getting up every hour and waking me.
No dread waiting for me in the morning.
For the first time in a very long time, I slept like I belonged to myself.