Happy Divorce, My Husband!

I was supposed to be the ghost in the house.

I never asked for jewels. Never asked for roses. Just one promise. One damn promise.

A cruise.

Edmund had said it back when he still had a soul. “One day, when we're rich,” he whispered into my hair, “I'll take you around the world, baby. Just us.”

That was before the money. Before the empire. Before I became his wife in name, and his maid in practice.

And today’s my 48th birthday. No one ever greeted me. No cake, no candles.

And I thought maybe—just maybe—it could be mine.

I brought it up after dinner. He was still in his chair, polishing his pistol with that same old cloth like it was a sacred ritual. The flatscreen TV was playing some old Western no one was watching. My heart was pounding harder than it should’ve been.

“Do you remember what you told me… on my 18th birthday?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t look up. “Which part?”

“That we’d travel. See the world together. You said once the business settled and our boy was grown… we’d go. On a cruise. Just us.”

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Edmund chuckled, “You think you deserve a cruise? Look at you. You look like a damn bamboo stick. One gust and you're gone. You think the captain’s gonna see you and roll out a red carpet? No, Doris. He’s gonna think you’re hauling walking bacteria on board.”

"But today is—"

"Today's what?" He finally looked at me. His face was older, heavier now. “You’re not young anymore. The world’s not kind to women like you out there. You're not like Elizabeth.”

There it was. The name that always hovered between us.

Elizabeth. My sister-in-law. His brother’s widow. Slim, blonde, always dressed like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. She judged me with her eyes every time we were in the same room. Edmund never corrected her.

“She’s younger,” he continued, “travels for business. Makes appearances for the family. She’s part of the image. But you—you’ve always been the one behind the scenes. That’s where you shine. The house. The family. You keep things running.”

Behind me, the twins were laughing. My grandson.

“Yeah, Ma, you look like a skeleton in a funeral dress,” said Lyle, smirking.

“Smells like old mop water and cat piss,” Nash added, pinching his nose.

They burst into snorting laughter. No one stopped them. No one ever did.

Lester, our pride and failure, leaned against the fridge and shouted across the kitchen, “Hey, Ma. Wash my clothes, yeah? My wife is busy right now. And bleach the white ones this time, unless you wanna ruin another set.”

“I’m not your maid,” I murmured.

“What was that?” he snapped.

“I said I’m not—”

He threw a half-empty soda can at the floor. “Then what the fuck are you? Because you sure as hell ain’t doing anything else in this house! You don’t bring money in.”

My blood boiled.

“I raised you,” I snapped. “Fed you. Stayed up when you had fevers. I’ve been working since before you were born.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve worked on smelling better. You smell like a rotten corpse,” one of the twins piped.

“Yeah,” snickered his brother, Nash. “It’s embarrassing just seeing her. Our classmates said she’s so ugly, they get scared when she shows up to pick us up. Like some cast member from The Walking Dead.”

They both burst into giggles. Then Edmund grabbed his pistol off the mantel, inspecting it like it mattered more than me.

“We got money, Doris,” he muttered. “You know that. But I’m not wasting it on some useless help. You’re here. You got two hands. Why the hell would I hire a maid when you’re the woman of the house?”

The woman of the house. That was whatever he called me.

But I didn’t own anything. Not a car. Not a card.

Every cent I needed, I had to beg for. And if I asked for more? He’d demand an itemized receipt. Penny by penny.

---

That night, when the noise died down and the family disappeared into their rooms, I walked to the bedroom, pulled out the old red suitcase from the closet. The one he bought me in Naples before our wedding.

Before the world twisted into what it is now.

I looked down at my hands. They didn’t look like mine anymore. Lined. Broken. Tired.

I used to be someone. A Rossini. The daughter of a mafia king. The girl born with gold on her tongue and fire in her spine. But I gave that up for love. I disowned myself from my family, thinking Edmund’s love was enough.

And now?

Now I was just the ghost in the house.

No kingdom. No crown. I have enough already. Maybe, leaving this family is the best birthday I could give to myself.