Repainting My Life: Once Tethered, Now Free

After breakfast, I made my way to campus for my graduation ceremony, my emotions swirling between pride and a quiet sense of sorrow.

That day marked the end of my years at the Rhode Island School of Design, a journey I had poured my heart into. Soon, I would be leaving for Italy to pursue my dreams.

But as I stood there, diploma in hand, surrounded by a crowd of graduates celebrating with their families, the familiar ache of loneliness crept in.

All around me, parents hugged their children, some took a photo with their loved one, and laughter filled the air. It was a day designed to be shared, yet there I was, alone in a sea of love and celebration.

I tried to shake it off, telling myself it should not matter, that I had grown used to that feeling long ago. But it still hurt, the absence of someone who should have been by my side, especially that day.

"Well, this is how it usually is, so no need to be sad that Gale didn't come, Rachel," I murmured to myself, forcing a smile as I took a steadying breath.

It was just another day alone, after all.

Fortunately, that day my professor came to congratulate me. He was delighted to hear I had accepted his scholarship offer and treated me to lunch as a warm congratulations.

“Italy’s going to be a revelation for you, Rachel,” he said with a beaming smile. “I can’t wait to see the artist you become.”

“Thank you, Prof,” I answered with a smile on my face.

His words really filled me with hope, but as I left campus and made my way home, a shadow of doubt crept in.

I found myself gazing out of the car window as we passed by the courthouse, the building looming large in my mind.

The idea of divorce hung over me, and I almost asked the driver to stop. But then I thought of Gale’s mother. How would she feel if I went through with it?

With a sigh, I decided against it for that moment.

As if by fate, my phone buzzed, and her name flashed on the screen.

“Rachel, dear!” She greeted me warmly. “Congratulations on your graduation. How about we go shopping together to celebrate?”

“It seems nice.”

I asked the driver to change course, heading back to the manor to pick her up. When I saw her standing there, a soft warmth replaced my anger toward Gale.

Despite everything, his mother had always treated me with kindness. Somehow, being with her felt like I still had a family.

We spent hours browsing through the shops, chatting like old friends, and she made sure I did not leave empty-handed.

As she inspected a designer bag, I idly scrolled through my phone, checking messages, and then a notification caught my eye.

It was a post from Lilian, she was at New York Fashion Week. And standing beside her, beaming, was Gale, their arms linked as they posed like a couple.

The caption read, [So happy to be here again this year, especially with someone you love.]

My heart clenched painfully. So, that was why he could not come to my graduation?

My grip on my phone tightened as Gale’s mother turned to me, noticing my tension. “Rachel, dear, is everything alright?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

I forced a smile, swallowing my disappointment. “Yes, I’m fine. Have you found what you like, Mom?”

“Yeah, I bought it for you too. I hope you like it,” she said with a warm smile while handing a shopping bag to me.

I directly answered, “Of course, I like it. Thank you for everything.”

Returning home, the manor felt emptier than ever. Gale did not come back that night, or the next few. I tried to distract myself, but a nagging feeling kept me on edge.

A few days later, I saw another post from Lilian. She was in Paris for Fashion Week.

Once again, Gale was right beside her, looking at her with pride and adoration. The more I looked, the more my stomach twisted.

Curiosity getting the best of me, I clicked through Lilian’s stories, each photo stoking the fire of my frustration.

One picture showed Gale with Lilian at her parents’ home, celebrating her birthday. In the next, he was kissing her cheek, his arm wrapped protectively around her.

“Why don’t you two just move in together already,” I muttered bitterly, feeling a stab of anger I had not felt before.

The thought gnawed at me, and finally, I could not hold back any longer.

My heart raced as I threw my phone aside, gathered my things, and told the driver to take me to the courthouse. That time, I would not hesitate.

I entered the courthouse and signed the divorce papers, my signature firm and resolute.

No more wondering, no more waiting. I was taking back control of my life.

**

A few days later, Gale returned from Paris.

That evening, I prepared dinner for us, the first time we had eaten together in weeks. I was calm, focused, the divorce papers neatly folded beside my plate.

As he took his seat, I handed the documents across the table.

As Gale saw the file, without a hint of reaction, he pushed the papers back toward me. “Put it in my study. I’ll review it later.”

Stunned by his dismissiveness, I struggled to keep my composure. “You’re not even going to look at them?” I asked, unable to mask the disappointment in my voice.

After everything, that was his response?

Gale sighed, reaching for his phone. “Rachel, can we not do this now? I just got back. I’m tired.”

“Gale,” I pressed, my voice trembling, “do you even care? You haven’t noticed anything, have you? I stopped waiting on you, I stopped being the obedient wife. You barely noticed I was even gone.”

“Look,” he said with a careless wave of his hand, “just because you’re throwing a tantrum doesn’t mean I need to jump every time. Now if you’re done, please let me have a peaceful dinner.”

For a long moment, I stared at him. In his indifference, I found my answer.

I stood up, clutching the papers to my chest, and finally felt the strength to let go.

“Alright, Gale,” I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “I’ll leave them in your study. But this time, I’m truly done waiting for you.”

I turned and walked away, the papers in hand.

As I placed the divorce papers on his desk, my gaze drifted to a stack of receipts and statements lying in a scattered pile.

My heart sank as I scanned through them. The list of his expenses for the month since Lilian returned was exorbitant, a full fifth higher than usual.

Each item stung more than the last. Among the charges was a new penthouse purchase. I knew immediately who it was for.

On impulse, I grabbed a sticky note from his desk and scrawled a short message, “Make sure you sign it!”