Once an Invisible wife, Now a Star

The cold, stale air of the storeroom seemed to mirror the emptiness in my heart. The pictures in the wooden box were faded, the edges curled with age, but the memories they held were vivid, almost painfully so.

There I was, younger, vibrant, bathed in stage lights, a microphone clutched in my hand, a roar of applause echoing in my ears.

I remembered the thrill of performing, the raw joy of connecting with an audience through music. That Sabrina, the one who lived and breathed for the stage, felt like a ghost from another lifetime. A lifetime I’d willingly, foolishly, given up for David.

"I want a divorce from my husband of thirty years."

The words, once a terrified whisper in my mind, now rang with a newfound clarity as I spoke them into the phone. On the other end, the familiar voice of my lawyer, Mrs. Greta, sounded surprised.

"Mrs. Cooper? Is everything alright? This is quite a shocker."

“It's rare for people to get divorce after spending such a long time together.”

"No, Mrs. Greta, nothing is alright. And it's not sudden. It's thirty years overdue," I replied, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hand that clutched the phone. "I want out.”

I heard her jotting down notes. "Of course, Mrs. Greta. Can you come to my office tomorrow morning? We'll discuss the details."

"Yes. Nine AM. I'll be there."

I hung up, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through me. It was terrifying, this leap into the unknown, but also liberating. The thought of breaking free, of reclaiming myself, was a powerful current pulling me forward.

That night I quietly walked to my room. David, who was busy on his phone, smirked looking at me.

“You didn't find the boots, did you?” He barked, still the same intensity of anger in his eyes.

I clutched the phone in my hands before I turned to him and said lazily. “I’m tired, David.”

After throwing out these words, I simply laid beside him, my heart racing in my chest.

Just as I expected, David got up from the bed. He threw the pillow on my face and yelled. “From next time, don't ruin my moment with Kate if you can't fix it!”

Having said that, he walked out of our bedroom. He sat in the living room and turned on the TV. Kate's sweet voice in the interview pierced my ears as they echoed through the hall.

Two drops of tears rolled down my cheeks. Kate, my best friend, was the woman David originally wanted to marry.

If she wouldn't have been so ambitious to go after a man richer than David, he wouldn't have even thought about marrying me no matter how many sacrifices I had already made for him.

I still remember the day David asked me to marry him. It was a sunny afternoon, and we were sitting in the small café near my college.

David took my hand, his eyes filled with a sincerity I had grown to trust. "Sabrina, from the moment I met you, I knew you were special," he said, his voice low and gentle.

"You're kind, caring, and you make me feel seen in a way no one else ever has. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

At that moment, I believed him. I believed that he loved me for who I was, that he valued my sacrifices and my love. I said yes without hesitation, thinking that I had found my partner, my best friend, my soulmate.

But now, as I looked back, I realized that it was all a facade. David had wanted Kate, with her ambition and her drive. I was just a consolation prize, a Plan B.

The thought stung so deep, I could not sleep the whole night. Kate’s voice continued echoing through my ears.

The next morning, I dressed meticulously, not in the drab clothes I usually wore for housework, but in a simple, elegant knee length dress I hadn't touched in years.

My reflection in the dusty storeroom mirror showed a woman with shadows under her eyes and a tired slump to her shoulders, but also a flicker of something new—resolve.

But, as I passed the living hall, Rosemary stood before me, her arms crossed. “Why haven't you washed Max’s room yet? And the kitchen, it's a whole mess!”

“Mom, where is the breakfast? You know I leave early for work.” Ethan yelled from behind, his voice laced with disappointment.

“Grandma Sabrina! You are such a fool and stupid. Why don't you go to school to learn something?” Max, my six years old grandson, barged in the living room, dressed in his school uniform.

His voice laced with childish cruelty as he complained.

“I asked you to put the Maths book in my bag pack, but you put the Science book instead. Now, I have to go back upstairs to put the correct book inside.”

“Why will you exhaust yourself, son? The one who made the mistake, will correct it.” Rosemary snapped back at me, her tone commanding as always.

“Why are you standing still? Go upstairs and change the books, Mom.” She had added turning to me.

“I’ll not!” I said, my voice stern. “If you have a problem with my work, then do it yourself.”