I thought my life with my ex-husband was firmly in the past until a message request from a stranger appeared on my phone late one night. When I saw who she was married to, I realized ignoring it wasn’t an option. I’m 32.
You can call me Maren. I typed this story the same way I would’ve texted a friend at 1:47 a.m., because even now my brain keeps going, “Nope. That didn’t happen.”
Let me explain.
I hadn’t spoken to my ex-husband, Elliot, in almost two years. We were together for eight years, married for five. We had no children, but not by choice.
Elliot was infertile. Or at least that’s the story he told me, doctors, and eventually friends, until it became the truth we lived inside. Our divorce was brutal but final.
Papers were signed, and arrangements with lawyers were made. We blocked each other everywhere afterward. I rebuilt my life.
