My Husband Called Me Crazy, and My Son Believed Him

Moving closer, he lifted Amanda with a pained look in his eyes, then he yelled at me, “Enough! Melanie, we’re getting a divorce! I don’t want to stay with you for even one more day! I’m done with this suffocating life!”

In Bryson’s essay, he wrote about today.

Only then did I find out that the day I went to his company and caused a scene, he had skipped his after-school class and gone there to spend time with Amanda.

And in that essay, he had written. “My mom isn’t only a crazy woman, she embarrasses me so much. I don’t get why I ended up with a mom like her. If only Aunt Amanda were my mom, that would be great.”

I accepted the divorce and signed the agreement to cut ties.

For the father and son, today was a day worth cheering for.

They rushed to take the agreement and went out to celebrate.

While I was gathering my things, Adriel updated his Instagram Story.

In the picture, he, Bryson, and Amanda were wearing matching family outfits.

The man who always disliked bright colors was smiling brightly.

Even the smile on Bryson’s face was almost unbearable to look at.

Standing between them, Amanda looked exactly like the soft, educated mother a family of three should have.

I barely looked at it before noticing a message from my mom.

She texted, [I already prepared your passport. After you finish the divorce paperwork tomorrow, come with me. You can return later to pick up the divorce certificate.]

I didn’t turn her down; I only answered, “Okay.”

Before now, I always reminded myself that I had to act like a mother who cared for her child, letting him grow up safely and letting him feel wanted.

So I never told him, on the day he was delivered by cesarean section, I almost blacked out from the pain several times, yet Adriel wasn’t there.

I forced myself to stay conscious because I had heard that if no one keeps an eye on the newborn, the baby might get misplaced.

Clenching my teeth, I took one surge of pain after another.

In the end, I still couldn’t take it and called Adriel while crying, but he didn’t pick up.

I assumed he was tied up with work and carried all of my pain alone.

The moment I uncovered his cheating and finally tore everything open, I learned the truth: that while I lay in the hospital crying from the pain of a C-section, he was enjoying comfort in another woman’s bed.

When the baby suddenly got a fever in the middle of the night and I had an unexpected appendicitis attack, terrified out of my mind, he, who claimed to be on a business trip, was still staying with someone else.

My suffering meant absolutely nothing to him.

Whenever he felt somewhat guilty, he would buy me all kinds of gifts to smooth things over.

When he saw me give a real smile, he would secretly think in a shameless way: Melanie is so easy to calm.

He told me these things himself.

He told me happily how he treated my emotional gratitude like a joke.

He completely forgot that in our hardest year, when we lived in a dim and cramped basement, every time he saw other men’s girlfriends looking neat and polished, and then looked at me, worn out from running everywhere, fighting so hard for our lives, he would feel hurt and cry.

“Melanie, meeting you in this life made me feel lucky. If I ever lost you, how would I keep going?”

He said he wanted to give me the nicest things.

Each month after getting his pay, he would use half of it to buy me lovely dresses and jewelry.

Then he would say, “Melanie, you should have more. Wait for me a little longer. Whatever others enjoy, I’ll bring them to you, one at a time.”

So I kept waiting and waiting, hoping and hoping. Every day, I imagined a bright future for the three of us.

But the truth kept cutting into my already worn-out heart again and again.

I packed my luggage and ripped apart every photo of me in the house.

Then I hired a cleaner to make every sign of my life here neat and clean.

I planned to leave right after signing the divorce papers tomorrow.

That night, neither Adriel nor Bryson came home.

I didn’t ask them to return.

The next day, I went to the City Hall as agreed. Adriel showed up thirty minutes later.

As soon as he got out and saw me in a bright red dress, something like admiration briefly appeared in his eyes.

But his expression quickly settled, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“Why did you wear your wedding dress here? Do you regret agreeing to the divorce?”

I met his eyes and shook my head.

Then I replied, “A red dress stands for celebration. Today is a day worth celebrating.”

In an instant, the faint smile on his mouth disappeared.

Staring at my calm, quiet eyes, a strange worry rose in him.

He questioned me, “Are you truly certain about divorcing me? You won’t regret it?”

“Melanie, I’m not someone who turns back. Once we finish the divorce today, from now on we really will be strangers.”

I picked up my phone, erased all of his contact details right in front of him.

Then I moved toward the entrance of the City Hall.

“Let’s go, it’s our turn.”

After finishing the divorce, I headed toward the car my mother had parked by the roadside without hesitation.

Seeing my firm leaving figure, Adriel suddenly felt an unexplained emptiness in his chest.

He lifted his hand, wanting to catch me, but only caught a handful of wind.