When I Finally Let You Go

Just then,my phone buzzed.

It was Fredric.

I stared at his name flashing on the screen for a couple seconds before answering.

“You called me over ten times earlier.What was so urgent?”His voice sounded a little tense,though he tried to keep it low and calm.

I closed my eyes,kept my voice steady as I answered,“It’s nothing.”

There was silence on the other end.Then he spoke again,gentler this time,as if apologetic.

“Brittany,I looked into it.Those thugs weren’t hired by you,they were sent by Deana’s ex.I’m sorry.I got it all wrong.”

"Sorry."

Such a light word.So easy to say.

But it hit me like a hammer to the heart.

I didn’t reply.

Afraid I’d hang up,he quickly added,“Tomorrow’s our sixth wedding anniversary.I’ve decided to make our marriage public.I want the whole world to know you’re my wife.”

He kept talking,“Also,I noticed your ring’s not on your finger.Are you upset?If you don’t like that ring,I’ll get you a better one…”

“Fredric,”I cut him off.

“Yeah?”

I pushed back the bitter ache rising in my chest and simply said,“It’s nothing.You should get back to work.”

He probably wanted to say more,but I brushed him off and hung up.

I stayed out the whole day before finally heading home.I pushed the door open lightly,only to be greeted by cold,stale air.

There was no trace of me in the house anymore.

Instead,everything reeked of Deana.

Her shawl was tossed over the couch.A half-finished cup of milk sat on the coffee table,the faint perfume clinging to it both unfamiliar and jarring.

Even at the entrance,her pink slippers were neatly placed,like this was always her home,not mine.

I walked into the bedroom.On the nightstand lay a forgotten old notebook.

It was my high school love letter journal.The cover was yellowed,pages worn thin.

I flipped it open and the first line of clumsy teenage handwriting made me laugh through the tears.

[Fredric,you probably don’t notice me,but I like you.]

Back then,I thought love could conquer anything.That if I tried hard enough,just like in those silly romance dramas,I’d melt his icy heart.

But reality wasn’t a drama.Love didn’t always reward persistence.

I sat at my desk and,for the last time,wrote him a letter.

Not for him,really—but for the girl I used to be.

As ink touched paper,my tears fell silently.

[Fredric,I’ve loved you for almost fifteen years now.

From that first love letter in high school to the day I married you,I always believed if I just loved you enough,you'd see me.

But I was wrong.

I thought marriage was about two people.Turns out,I was just someone getting in the way of your happiness.

I can’t wait around anymore.This time,I’m letting you goand letting myself go,too.

Let’s never see each other again.

I don’t want to love you anymore.]

I placed the letter on the desk and tucked my hospital discharge sheet underneath it.

A miscarriage certificate.

Then,I wiped every trace of myself from the house,erased my fingerprints from the smart lock,packed my suitcase and walked away from the prison I’d once called home.

As sunlight hit my face outside,I smiled for the first time in a long time.

“Happy divorce,Fredric.There’s no next time for us.”