Happy Divorce, My Husband!

The line was still warm in my hand when I heard my father’s voice. Calm. Tired. Like the kind of tired that’s lived a thousand lonely nights waiting.

“Come home, Doris,” he said.

“I’ve been waiting for you for twenty years.”

Twenty years. Twenty years of waiting. And me, too afraid or too proud or maybe just too broken to pick up the phone.

My knees almost gave out, but I caught myself. Instead, I sank to the edge of the bed and let the tears fall.

“I’m coming home,” I whispered, voice barely a ghost.

He didn’t say anything more. Just the sound of his breath, steady and real, a lifeline. I hung up before I could say goodbye.

That’s when Edmund walked in. Like a shadow slipping through the cracked door. His eyes were cold — calculating — like he could smell the truth on me and hated it.

He didn’t even bother to pretend.

“I know you saw the tickets,” he said. Smirk like he was telling a joke. “Limited to six, Doris. Me. Elizabeth. Lester. Loisa. The twins. That’s it.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“You’re deliberately excluded.”

His voice dropped to a dead calm. Like ice melting on concrete.

“When I get back, I’ll buy you a diamond set. Take you to Hawaii.”

Like those words were supposed to be a consolation prize. Then he turned, walked out without another glance. Just like I was air.

I stood there a moment, silent. Staring at the door he just closed behind him like a coffin.

The next morning, I moved through the motions in the kitchen. Omelets, bacon, toast — the smell sharp and mocking.

From the living room, I heard the twins. Laughing, shouting like it was Christmas morning.

“This cruise is the biggest ever!” Lester yelled. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

Their voices were bright, innocent. And cruel.

Then Elizabeth showed up, arms loaded with takeout bags.

She dropped them on the counter with a loud thud and sneered, “I don’t like Doris’s cooking,” she announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s like chewing on cardboard or swallowing salt straight from the shaker. Bland, over-salted, and completely uninspired—just like her.”

The room went still for a moment, and then she tossed her head, eyes gleaming.

“You know, family dinners used to mean something. Now? It’s just a reminder of how pathetic some people are. Doris tries, bless her heart, but you can’t polish a stone that’s already cracked all the way through.”

The twins giggled, but Lester wasn’t done.

“Yeah, Mum, I mean, why even bother pretending you care? You make food like you don’t want us here. Like you’re waiting for us to leave just to be alone with your failures.”

Loisa nodded, picking up the thread with a sharp grin.

“Honestly, it’s kind of sad, mum. You cook like you’re punishing us. Like every burnt edge and dry bite is your little protest. But we’re not fooled. We see right through you.”

Elizabeth snatched a bag from the counter, opening it with exaggerated care.

“So family, eat this. Real food. Food that people who actually matter deserve. We leave in an hour.”

Their eyes flicked over me like I was some ugly secret they all shared but refused to admit out loud.

I watched as they dug in like they were starving, piling their plates, asking for more drinks, more snacks.

“Get me water.”

“Pass the salt.”

“More napkins.”

Invisible, I faded into the background, biting down the bitterness that wanted to choke me.

Just before they left, Edmund’s voice cut through the kitchen like a whip.

“Where’s my wallet?”

He spun around, eyes sharp, accusing me without a word.

“You’re hiding it, aren’t you?” His eyes burned. “Because that’s what you do—hide things. Hide from responsibility, hide from respect, hide like the useless, jealous little nobody you are.”

I shook my head quietly.

He didn’t wait. His hand slapped my face. Hard.

The world spun. Blood poured from my nose like a cruel joke.

I collapsed.

The floor was cold and steady beneath me as my vision blurred. Then Elizabeth gasped, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

“Oh! Sorry, brother-in-law,” she said, voice syrupy sweet. “I must have taken your wallet by mistake while digging through my earrings. You know how clumsy I am.”

She pulled it from her bag with a smirk only I noticed. I knew. It was a setup. A way to make me small. To humiliate me in front of everyone.

The family gathered their bags like it was a holiday, smiling and shouting their goodbyes.

Lester, pretending to be kind: “Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll bring you a fridge magnet.”

Loisa added, “And I’ll bring you a keychain.”

“We’ll bring you dirty laundry, Grandma.” The twins laughed and even pushed their tongues out.

Their words hit like knives, soft but sharp.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Silence.

I didn’t wait. Didn’t cry. I walked straight to the bedroom, dropped to my knees, and dragged my old bag out from under the bed. I grabbed it. Zipped it. Left everything else behind.

I took a cab and went straight to the airport.

Then my phone buzzed.

Edmund.

> Guard the house while we’re gone. We’ll be out for a week. Don’t mess anything up.

Another message followed instantly.

> Sorry I slapped you. But you provoked me. If only you weren’t always so damn jealous. You ruin things for yourself.

I stared at the words, the gall of it. A man who’d used his hands to silence me now using words to rewrite history. Still blaming me for his cruelty.

I smiled — not out of joy, but clarity.

Then I blocked his number.

Deleted the thread. Gone.

I slipped the phone into my coat pocket, stepped onto the plane, and didn’t look back once.

I was done guarding a house that had never been a home. I was going back to the only place that ever was.

Home.