Chapter 3

A week later, I walked into what had been my house for three years, and tried to slow down my heartbeat. No matter how hard I tried, I'd never been able to make the place into a home. In the last week, Anthony had called me several times, and threatened me with a divorce if I didn't return to the house. He'd even come to Chloe's door, but she'd called the cops on him. I needed the time to process my thoughts and she'd understood.

I'd timed my arrival perfectly knowing that Anthony would be at work now. I needed a few hours of peace before facing him. I'd made up my mind. I wasn't going to leave him, but he had to swear to me that this would never happen again.

Chloe had not liked my decision, but there was only so much that she could do. Anthony was my husband. He was flawed, yes, but he was still my husband.

With this in mind, I headed straight to the kitchen, kicked my shoes off, and began making dinner. Food made every conversation easier.

When the front door opened two hours later, I swallowed inaudibly. There would be a lot of shouting, but it would all be fine. I won't talk much. That'll only piss him off. Even as he sauntered into the kitchen, I kept my head down.

“Well, well! Look who finally decided to come home.”

I remained quiet, as I took out the chicken from the oven.

“I'm talking to you, Marie!” he shouted.

I finally raised my eyes to meet him. By God, he knew how much I hated being called that. “I know that, Anthony. We'll speak over dinner.”

At that, he scoffed. “You think very highly of yourself, don't you? What makes you think that I would want to have dinner with you?”

“Anthony, please.” I said in a pleading voice. He looked me over from head to toe before turning to leave the kitchen.

I leaned against the counter with my eyes closed, and took a deep breath. I just wanted a little bit of happiness. Was that too much to ask? I straightened, and turned my attention back to the food.

Much to my chagrin, we ate dinner quietly. Neither of us was willing to start the conversation. I went to bed first, and had almost fallen asleep when Anthony walked into the room and dropped a file at the foot of the bed without a word.

“What's this?” I asked calmly, sitting up.

“Open it.” He responded.

I picked up the file from its spot and opened it. My eyes skimmed through it briefly and went back to rest on him.

“What the hell is this, Anthony?” I asked, and he remained quiet. There was a look of triumph in his eyes at the evident pain in mine, and I took a moment to wonder where I went wrong with this man.

Anthony and I had been in love once. I'd made him laugh once before. He'd told me he loved me, so what went wrong?

“Why? You're the one who was out cheating on me, so why am I the one getting divorce papers?” I asked with tears trickling down my face.

“Just sign the goddamned papers. Marie.”

“Marissa.” I said in a voice that broke. He knew exactly why I hated being called Marie.

“Okay, Marie.” He said in a mocking tone, and I felt my heart constrict with pain as I looked him up and down.

I'd endured so much these past three years just to protect what we had. I'd hoped that someday, he'd love me again, and we could finally go back to how we once were.

Anthony grabbed a blanket from the large closet that we both shared and headed out, but my voice stopped him at the door.

“Why?” I asked and my voice broke.

He waited a few seconds before responding. “Because I'm done, Marissa. I'm done with you and your pity party. I want more, and you can't give me that.”

“That doesn't even make any sense.” I said, but he was gone.

I let the tears flow freely from my eyes. My heart was breaking into a million pieces, and there was nothing I could do about it. I'd given up so much for this to work. I'd deluded myself into believing that I needed to make myself better for Anthony to love me again, but now, I realized how wrong I was.

The last thought on my mind before I drifted into sleep was that I had failed. I had gotten it wrong somehow, and there was nothing I could do to right things.

The next morning, I was up at dawn. I sat cross-legged in bed, and went through each page of the divorce papers. Anthony was offering 25,000 dollars for a peaceful separation. I mentally chided myself about the need to be strong. I needed to hold my head high no matter what.

When I walked down the stairs later that morning in my mint green suit, Anthony was at the table with a cup of coffee before him. He glanced at me, and returned his attention to this phone.

Without a word, I dropped the papers in front of him. I saw the question in his eyes as he looked up at me.

“I signed the papers, Anthony. Now, it's your turn.” I said in a voice that didn't shake.

I saw his face register shock, and I didn't understand. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? In all honesty, I just wanted peace. My heart was breaking a million times over while I was at it, but that didn't matter. I had spent too much time on my knees in this marriage.

Anthony picked up the papers to confirm that I'd signed and suddenly grew angry. “I was right, wasn't I? You've been cheating on me! Who's the bastard?” He yelled.

At first, I stared at him, confused, but realization soon set in. Anthony hadn't really expected me to sign these divorce papers. He'd just wanted to hurt me and make me grovel so he could gloat over it.

I felt anger begin to brew inside of me, and I looked at him with utter disdain before speaking. “Pick your jaw off the ground, Anthony. I'm done with all of this. You wanted a divorce, you’re getting a divorce. It doesn't matter whether or not I'm hurting, I won't let you walk all over me like this.”

I looked him up and down one last time, and walked up the stairs with all the grace I could muster. I was going to pack my things.