Chapter 2My Husband Tried to Leave Me with Nothing But Our Son Had Other Plans

The front door clicked shut.

With that sound, a part of my heart seemed to shrivel and die. Mark was walking out that door, and this time, he might never come back.

We’d met in college. Our love had been the young, earnest kind—the kind you believe is pure and indestructible. I truly thought we would grow old together. I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it all started to fracture, how we ended up in this wasteland.

"Mom."

Alex's voice pulled me from my spiral of grief.

"I'm starving. Did you make dinner?"

I scrambled to my feet, wiping the last of the tears from my face. "I'll go to the grocery store right now."

A note of theatrical complaint entered his tone. "Mom, you're about to be a millionaire. Can't you at least spring for some BBQ?"

I took Alex to the smokehouse restaurant downstairs. He expertly wrapped a piece of glistening brisket in a lettuce leaf and handed it to me.

"Mom, this is an all-you-can-eat buffet. You gotta eat more to get your money's worth."

"Oh. Right," I said, taking it from him. It tasted like ash in my mouth, and I could barely swallow.

My mind drifted to all the articles I’d read online, the ones about how divorce psychologically scars children for life.

I chose my words carefully. "Son, even though your father and I are getting a divorce, he's still your dad. It's okay for me to hate him, but you don't have to."

"I don't hate him," he said, flipping a chicken wing on the grill. "And you should stop, too. Hating someone is exhausting."

He sat across from me, his face partially obscured by the rising steam, and for a moment, I felt like I couldn't see my son at all.