From What’s Broken
“I want a divorce.” The words slipped out in a stream of gloom and ambiguity.
My husband, Matthew, glanced away, his mouth tight and his eyes constricted. He had no words, but I wasn’t surprised. We stared at each other like two strangers, two entirely different people—cold, distant, and doing what we needed to do in order to survive.
The decision hadn’t come easy for me. For weeks, the idea of putting this limbo to rest had been on my mind. I couldn’t live like this. Neither of us was happy.
“Did you hear me?” I whispered. I knew he had, but I needed confirmation. I needed some kind of response. Sad, happy, or mad, I didn’t really care, but he owed it to me. He owed me a response.
“Yeah.” He hugged his legs and glared past my gaze to the wall behind me. His eyes looked dead, calculating, and cold. Much of how they had been for most of the past year.
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