His story changed with every question. First it was a paperwork errand. Then a two-minute visit.
Then she wandered toward Tina’s room “by accident.”
“So why tell her not to mention it to me?” I asked. He had no answer. Just silence and sweat.
And in that silence, I knew. Confirmation
Sleep never came that night. By dawn, I was calm.
Not broken—focused. I found Tina’s number on Mark’s laptop. Sent her a message.
Pretended to need help planning a firm party. She agreed to coffee without hesitation. She showed up flawless—polished and pleasant.
She even complimented my necklace. Then I asked her about Sophie’s visit. Her spoon paused mid-stir.
Then she smiled. “He said it wouldn’t take you long to figure it out.”
“So it’s true,” I said, heart heavy. “He’s going to choose me,” she replied, calm as ever.
“Eventually.”
“You’re welcome to him.” I stood and walked out. The Undoing
I didn’t yell. I didn’t sob.
I got to work. Quietly, efficiently, I filed for divorce. I called a lawyer, collected evidence, sorted custody.
Mark never fought it. Maybe he didn’t have the strength. Maybe guilt hollowed him out already.
He moved in with Tina within weeks. From what I hear, the shine is already fading. Sophie doesn’t like being around Tina.
She tells me how they argue, how Daddy seems tired all the time. She clings tighter when she comes home, and I don’t ask questions. Instead, I rebuild.
I paint Sophie’s ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars. I join a local Pilates class. I sketch again—something I hadn’t done in years.
The silence in my house is finally peaceful. Not lonely. No More Worms
One night, as we curled up together, Sophie looked at me with her wide brown eyes and asked:
“Mommy, why doesn’t Daddy live with us anymore?”
I kissed her forehead and whispered:
“Because he lied about the worms.”
She nodded solemnly, as if she understood the weight of the world in that one sentence.
“Lying is bad,” she said. “I’m glad we don’t have worms here.”
I smiled through the ache. “Me too, baby.
Me too.”
