My Husband Kept Sending Packages to Ex, So I Filed for Divorce Chapter 05

Julian stared at the divorce papers in front of him.

The room went dead silent.

Chloe was on her feet before anyone could even breathe, eyes wide, voice going high. “Julian, Claire’s got the wrong idea. Tell her! Explain!”

She turned to me, hands raised like she was begging me to stop. “Claire, everyone’s just had too much to drink. They were joking. Please don’t take it seriously…”

I watched Julian’s face shift in real time. The shock drained away. The panic drained away. And what replaced them, fueled by every word Chloe said, was anger.

He kept his voice low. Just barely. “Claire. My colleagues are here. My parents are here. People were joking around, and if it bothered you, they’ll stop. But do not pull this stunt in front of everyone.”

His parents’ smiles had gone stiff. His mother spoke first, careful and measured.

“Claire, honey, Luke and the guys said some stupid things. But you can’t just throw around the word divorce like that.”

“Marriage takes work, Claire. You don’t just use the word ‘divorce’ as a weapon every time you’re upset. Keep pulling these stunts and you’ll ruin a good thing.”

I was quiet for a moment.

“Mr. and Mrs. Vance, I mean it. I want a divorce.”

I looked at Julian. “Sign the papers.”

Chloe burst into tears. “Julian, just apologize. Please. I’ll leave. I’ll stay out of your lives. For good, I swear. We won’t talk anymore.”

“Everyone can go, and you can work things out with Claire. Just… just fix this…”

His parents’ faces had gone gray.

The rest of the table sat frozen, eyes darting between me and Julian, no one brave enough to speak.

Julian drew two slow breaths. Then he grabbed the divorce papers off the table and ripped them apart.

He grabbed the pen I’d set down and hurled it at the wall. It bounced off and rolled under the table, out of sight.

I picked up my bag. “I’ll have a new copy sent to you tomorrow. Sign it.”

I turned for the door.

His voice hit my back.

“Are you done, Claire?”

“You pull this every other week, blowing up over nothing, making everything into a crisis. You think just because I don’t fight back, you can keep pushing?”

I didn’t want to stand there and drag every argument back out.

I didn’t want to air our dirty laundry in front of thirty people either, every package, every excuse, every time I was the one who backed down.

He never tried to make things right. Not once. Every time something meant for me ended up at Chloe’s, I asked him to fix it. He refused. And every time, I was the one who swallowed it and moved on.

Not this time.

I didn’t look back. I pushed through the door and walked out.

Outside the restaurant, I found a bench in a small park and sat until my heart rate steadied. Then I called a cab.

My parents had already brought in the boxes from the movers.

They were both in the living room waiting for me when I walked in.

The second I saw them, everything I’d been holding back climbed into my throat. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even open my mouth without falling apart.

I stood in the doorway for a long moment, breathing through it, before I could make myself walk in.

“Claire, what is going on?”

“Why did you send all your things here?”

I managed a small smile. “Mom, Dad, I’m getting a divorce.”

Their reaction was the same as Julian’s parents. Shock. Disbelief.

“What happened? Why all of a sudden?”

This time, I didn’t sugarcoat it. I didn’t make excuses. I told them everything, all three years of it.

At first they thought it was petty stuff, small disagreements. But the more I told them, the anniversary gift that ended up with Chloe, the Thanksgiving we’d planned a year in advance that he spent at her apartment, the fact that he’d never once apologized, the quieter they got.

My dad wasn’t someone who lost his temper easily. But when I finished, he slammed his hand on the table.

“If he missed her that much, why did he chase after you? Why did he marry you?”

“You want a divorce? Then divorce him. We’re not sitting here watching you take this anymore.”

My mom, the calmest person I’ve ever known, didn’t raise her voice. She just said, very softly, “If his heart was always somewhere else, then there was no point staying. If you want to leave, then leave.”

She pulled me into her arms. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner, sweetheart? You kept all of this from us for three years. How much have you been carrying by yourself?”

“I kept wondering why you smiled less every time you came home.”

“Yesterday you were here all day, and I didn’t see you smile once.”

My eyes burned. I pressed my face into her shoulder.

“It’s over now. I’m going to smile every single day from now on, so much you’ll get sick of it.”