Prologue

My hands trembled as I clutched the divorce papers, the weight of their significance echoing through my entire being. "Be strong, Arianne," I whispered to myself, inhaling deeply to steady my racing heart. The magnitude of my decision had been kept tightly concealed within the walls of my own thoughts, knowing full well that the onslaught of well-meaning interventions was imminent.

My gaze shifted to Joseph, his attention wholly consumed by the contents of his laptop screen. I knew he was engrossed in studying a patient's medical condition; his dedication as a doctor was unwavering. A surge of pride welled within me at his unyielding passion for his profession.

Yet, over the course of the past three years, a gulf has inexplicably widened between us. It felt as if he held me accountable for our shared loss, and in turn, I blamed myself for not being stronger. He had become engulfed in his work, his presence at home growing scarce, as though my existence were a burden he wished to avoid.

I attempted to understand his pain, to empathize with his struggles. I understood that he yearned for the child we had lost, a possible means of healing his own wounds. However, in his pursuit, he seemed to have forgotten about me. He had forgotten that I was still there, willing to communicate, reeling from my own grief. Despite my efforts, each attempt to bridge the emotional chasm was met with dismissal.

A crippling sense of worthlessness began to infiltrate my thoughts. I berated myself for my perceived shortcomings, for not being able to fulfill his longing for a child.

Our union had been forged in youth, a love strong enough to withstand the judgmental whispers that trailed us. Since our high school days, my affection for him had burned ardently, fueling my perseverance in the face of adversity. But one morning, my eyes were opened to a new reality. A question that had been dormant within me had finally risen to the surface—was this still the right path? I was exhausted, drained by the struggle of trying to mend a relationship that seemed increasingly one-sided. It felt as though he had abandoned the notion of a shared future, leaving me with no choice but to reclaim my own wellbeing. The love I held for him had been profound, selfless, but it was time to redirect that devotion towards myself. I couldn't continue this path any longer. I was worn, drained of the strength to carry on.

"Joseph?" I called out his name, mustering my courage.

"Hmm?" he responded, his focus remaining tethered to the laptop's screen.

"Joseph, I can't do this anymore," I confessed, my voice shaking but my resolve unwavering.

"What?" he questioned, his attention still stubbornly fixed on his work.

"I-I-I want a divorce," I stuttered, the admission hanging heavy in the air, my words like stones tumbling from my lips. The atmosphere seemed to constrict around me, each heartbeat echoing my inner turmoil. Closing my eyes, I swallowed the rising lump in my throat.

The clatter of his pen falling against the desk punctuated my confession. Stepping closer, I extended a brown envelope towards him.

"What's this?" he asked, his tone shadowed by a growing unease.

"Divorce papers," I replied, my voice steady even as my heart raced within my chest. I could feel the weight of each moment, each choice, crashing over me.

"Okay," he responded, his acceptance surprising me. Was this all he had to say? Had our love truly dwindled to this?

"Is that all?" I asked, a blend of disbelief and anguish threading through my words. His response felt so clinical, devoid of any depth, leaving me grappling with the emotional whirlwind inside me.

"Why? Don't you want this? I thought this was what you wanted," he said, his voice a veneer of calm over the storm within. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision as the realization struck that his heart might never have truly been invested.

Turning away, I gathered a sizeable bag, hurriedly stuffing in my belongings. I yearned to escape this place, to put distance between myself and the life I had built with him.

"Are you really leaving?" his voice, soft and almost pleading, reached me.

"What do you think?" I retorted, casting a final, piercing look his way. His expression remained inscrutable; his face was a mask, a testament to the walls he had built.

Stepping out of that house, my heart shattered, I felt the biting certainty that this was the right path, even if it was agonizing. I had poured my love into him, fierce and unwavering, only to find it met with indifference