Tell Her Good Luck

"We're here to get divorced. Why bring her? She got a PhD in divorces now?"

Jenny had split three years ago, snagged the kid and the apartment next door, then moved right in.

I only got close because I felt bad watching her struggle.

"We just dropped the kids off. Figured I'd bring her along," Jack said.

I didn't even look at them. Rolled my eyes and walked into the lawyer's office.

The lawyer raised a brow—three people walking in? Definitely not standard. But he dove right in.

"Any property? How are you splitting it?"

Jack shrugged. "She can have it. I don't want it."

"Who said I do?" I shot back. "I don't want it either."

The lawyer blinked. "Then..."

Jack turned to me. "You sure?"

"That place is perfect for your parents, right? Why would I want it?"

I said it sharp. Jack had nothing. I never wanted that dump. A gallon of milk meant a five-mile drive.

Only Jack and his parents would fall for some sketchy fortune-teller who swore the land had "good energy." They bought it without even asking me. I caved back then—but I sure wasn't getting stuck with it now.

"I don't want the apartment," I said. "I didn't pay the down payment, fine. But I've been covering that loan for years. I want that money back. And we're splitting the savings."

Jenny tried to hide a smile. Too bad.

After a mess of back and forth, we finally signed the divorce cooling-off paperwork.

Final deal: Jack got the kid and the apartment. I got the savings. And he owed me every penny I'd put into the loan—plus the apartment's price bump.

I'd stay in the apartment until they came up with the cash. Then I was out.

Jenny didn't look thrilled. But hey—Jack was the one who cheated. She didn't get to complain.

Outside the lawyer's office, I looked across at the County Clerk's building, kinda dazed.

Ten years ago, Jack and I stood there too—same gray sky, totally different mood.

It wasn't Valentine's or some wannabe couple's day. We just got up early and lined up first.

We had nothing—no rings, no cash, not even a proper photo. Just a blurry strip from a janky booth.

Still thought love would carry us. Thought it was enough.

I forgot a heart's just another organ. After ten years, ours had burned out.

Once Jack and Jenny left, I left, too.

We caught each other's eye, then walked off in opposite directions.

Jack called after me.

"I'll come by later to grab my stuff. I'll hand over the keys then."

I just muttered, "Mm," and kept walking—never looked back.

***

By 3 PM, Jack showed up with Jenny and both kids.

I was still packing up in the living room when I heard them laughing in the hall.

"Dad! Dad! I get to play with Pete and sleep in the same room every day now?"

"Yep. You, me, Jenny, and Pete—we're a family now."

"Yay! I finally have a pretty mommy too!"

"Haha, what a sweet-talker you are."

Their laughter echoed down the hallway like static.

To me, it sounded like a siren—loud, sharp, and straight-up painful.