Chapter 4My Husband’s PhD Was Mine

For the next few days, my phone was a graveyard of texts from him.

At first, he tried the "reasonable" approach: June, what happened at the federal building was a mess. Let’s just move on with our lives. Don't say things you'll regret about the papers. Let’s keep this civil.

I didn't reply.

Then he started fishing, trying to see if I was actually going to report him for academic dishonesty.

When I still didn't respond, he turned nasty: June, think very carefully. If you try to burn me down, I’ll take you with me. We can both lose our jobs. Don't be a spiteful bitch.

I swiped the notifications away and turned off the screen.

Eventually, the texts stopped. He probably assumed I was just blowing off steam and didn't have the guts to follow through.

He started posting on Instagram again. Photos of him and Lexie with captions like: When you finally find the one, time doesn't matter.

Arthur, who used to hate being in front of a camera, was suddenly grinning in every shot.

Our mutual friends were losing their minds. People were tagging me, asking if we’d split, asking who the "mystery girl" was.

He didn't hide it. He went into the group chats and announced our divorce as if it were a victory.

"Some people look good on paper," he wrote, "but in real life, they’re just calculators. They don't know how to live. My Lexie is pure. She hasn't been corrupted by the 'system' like some people I know."

Everyone knew who he was talking about. The chat went silent for a few seconds.

I received a dozen "I’m so sorry" texts. I ignored them all.

The day my fellowship was officially processed, the university called me in. They were finalizing the travel grants and the formal announcement.

As I walked toward the administration building, I saw them.

Lexie was clinging to Arthur’s arm, practically hanging off him. When she saw me, she made a face and buried her head in his shoulder.

Arthur stopped as I approached. He looked down at me with a strange kind of pity.

"June," he said softly. "It’s over. We’re moving on. It’s better this way."

I said nothing.

He took a few steps past me, then looked back over his shoulder. He looked like a man who thought he’d won—the man who got the girl and the career, while his "boring" wife was left in the dust.

We were called into the conference room.

The Provost was there, along with the Dean of Sciences and a few people from the Ethics Committee I didn't recognize.

Arthur stood confidently at the head of the table. Lexie hovered by the door, trying to peek in.

The Provost looked at us and picked up a folder.

"We’ve called you here to announce the final selection for the London Fellowship. This year’s recipient is—"