After the Divorce, I Belong to Him

It broke my heart.

The next day, I threw myself into researching men's suits, watches, cufflinks, ties.

Every cent he'd left me, I turned into things that would make him look the part.

Later, as his business grew and grew, the people he moved among belonged to a different class.

He started to say I didn't know how to dress, that I was small-minded, cheap.

That was when I gritted my teeth and bought myself a bag that cost thousands.

By the time we divorced, that bag was the only luxury item in the house that was mine.

I lowered my eyes and told Walter Henson, "Everything in this house you earned out there, working hard. I don't want any of it."

Walter gave a cold laugh. "Don't come regretting it."

He had his lawyer draw up a new divorce agreement, and he signed his name across it in a bold, sweeping scrawl.

On his way out, he said, "Greta. Clear all your things out of the house."

I'd spent the whole night sorting through it, planning to call the movers the next day.

Instead, the moment the workday began, Walter took me straight to the county clerk's office.

Count it up, and today was exactly the thirtieth day since we'd filed for divorce.

Walter didn't want to wait a single minute longer.

I thought it over, then stepped out into the rain, ran to the curb, and scanned a rental bike.

I wanted to get back early, so I wouldn't run into Walter and make things awkward.

I hadn't gone ten meters when a car pulled up beside me.

"Where are you headed? Want a lift?"

I looked blankly at the man behind the wheel.

I didn't know him.

He must have seen the confusion on my face, because he explained quickly, "I was just at the clerk's office too. I saw you standing at the door for a long time, then riding off in the rain, so I figured you had somewhere urgent to be. I've got nothing on right now. If you don't mind, I can drop you off."

Maybe the rain was coming down too hard to let me think.

By the time I came back to myself, I was already sitting in the passenger seat.

I felt embarrassed at once. "Sorry, I've gotten your seat wet."

"It's fine, it's all leather anyway, easy to wipe down. So, where to?"

I told him the place.

After that, neither of us said anything, and there was only the sound of the rain outside the car.

The silence was a little awkward.

Without thinking, I reached for something to say. "Why were you at the clerk's office? Getting divorced too?"

The words were barely out before I wanted to slap myself.

What kind of question was that!

The man seemed to catch my mortification, and he smiled.

He said, "I'm still unmarried, so I can't very well get divorced. I came with my parents today."

"Oh?" I was a little surprised.

He didn't say more, only changed the subject. "Harrison Shaw."

It took me a second to realize he was giving me his name. I said quickly, "I'm Greta Fox."

After that, he didn't speak again.

Harrison drove me all the way to the entrance of my complex, and considerately handed me an umbrella.

I thanked him at once. "Mr. Shaw, thank you for today. Let me buy you a meal sometime!"

Then I left him my number and hurried off.

I didn't see the satisfied smile at the corner of his mouth.

I was moving fast, almost jogging the whole way to the foot of my building.

Then I took one look, and the blood ran cold through my whole body.

The luggage I'd packed had all been thrown out.

Lying quietly beside the trash can.

Soaked through by the rain, a sodden heap.

Anger surged up in me all at once.

I wanted to go find Walter and demand an answer, ask him why he had to force me into such humiliation!

I'd taken one step forward when I saw something familiar in the trash.

It was a picture frame.

The one that held our wedding photo, the frame that had hung over the head of our bed for five years.