My Life Was Saved, but My Marriage Ended

About two months ago, I discovered that Oliver had someone else. Since then, the word “divorce” has sat at the edge of my lips, yet I’ve never been able to say it out loud. I thought I could become numb to the ebb and flow of love after so many shared moments, so many separations and returns.

But I overestimated my strength and underestimated the trust I’d built in Oliver over ten years. Now, the remnants of that love feel like sharp thorns, digging deeper with every memory. I still remember that day when the car lost control—Oliver, lying twisted before me, half his body soaked in blood, yet still reaching out, trying to shield my eyes.

“Lisa, don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

Maybe God doesn’t want us to separate, I thought. Childhood sweethearts—how easily people romanticize it. But sometimes happiness only exists when you’re blissfully unaware of the truth.

I opened the car window, letting the sharp autumn wind bite at my face. It stung, but not as much as the betrayal I now carry. Two months ago, I asked Oliver to go driving with me—just the two of us. For the first time, he refused.

"Lisa, you’re smart and independent. You can handle these little things just fine without me."

But I stubbornly insisted he teach me.

The notification sounded.

Oliver was sitting in the passenger seat, and the air around him felt frighteningly cold.

He glanced at me, then lowered the brightness of his phone.

The screen slowly shifted toward me.

Maybe he thought I was focused on the road, but I noticed every little movement.

So, I turned up the music in the car, pondering whether there was a rift in our marriage.

That afternoon, Oliver, who always hated animals, suggested we get a puppy.

While I spent a few seconds teasing the dog, he took a photo and shared it with Anna.

I usually avoid looking through his phone.

But Anna’s messages were too urgent, and I felt a lack of security.

As Oliver took a drag from his cigarette, his phone buzzed relentlessly, ringing over ten times.

“The puppy is adorable, but it doesn’t hold a candle to my cat, Honey.”

“Hey, your ex-wife didn’t teach you how to flirt, did she? Why are you so clueless?”

Oliver didn’t bother to argue. Instead, he sent a shy emoji followed by a hesitant, “Uh… yeah.”

She pressed on, teasing him further, “If you’re just looking to replace Honey, you might as well save yourself the trouble of hanging around all the time.”

Anna’s voice cut through the banter like a knife. “Are you jealous?”

“I told you to divorce her, but you keep putting it off,” she snapped.

“I’m running out of patience. If you think you can play games with me, I’ll go have a chat with the old witch!”

Oliver remained silent, the weight of his indecision hanging heavily in the air.

When he came in from outside, his eyes were red from the smoke.

I don’t remember how I returned the phone to him that day.

I also don’t want to recall Oliver’s careful yet familiar attempts over and over again.

After reading the news, his eyebrows suddenly furrowed, and he hugged me tightly: “The company is too busy lately, and I have too little time for you.

I’m sorry, Lisa.” Then he thoughtfully drove me home, taking a route completely opposite to where his office was.

Once home, I took out the divorce agreement I had read countless times.

The handwriting was mottled and blurred by my tears.

I was tired and cold, so I opened the closet and found the wedding dress we wore on our wedding day.

I stood there, holding the gown in my arms, laughter bubbling up inside me, a misguided attempt at self-encouragement. Suddenly, a crumpled piece of paper slipped from my pocket and landed at my feet—a pregnancy test result.

“Anna… she’s pregnant.” The weight of those words crashed over me, and I knelt on the ground, overwhelmed by disbelief.

Sudden speculations overwhelmed me, causing my eyelids to twitch and a wave of nausea to wash over me. Memories flooded back—Oliver had moved in next door when he was just seven years old.

During the darkest moments of my life, he was my lifeline, the one who pulled me back from the abyss.

After my father succumbed to alcohol, my mother unleashed her frustrations about their marriage onto me, forcing me to carry the weight of her grievances.