Still blinking. Still attempting to resurrect the fantasy she was living in.
You said you wanted freedom, remember? Well, congratulations. You're free now. Free from this marriage. Free from this house. Free from pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing.
She said nothing for around thirty seconds. She just stood there, arms crossed, trying to figure out which angle she hadn't attempted yet.
Then, in the most wretched voice I've ever heard, she says, Can't we at least talk about this?
So, I leaned forward, my voice soft yet plain as day.
We did talk about it back when you asked to make our marriage a community project and you decided back then that I didn't matter. So now I'm just agreeing with you.
And I walked by her calmly. No yelling, no hurling anything.
There's the real conversation, Jennifer. Go ahead and start packing before I get back. And don't bother trying the sympathy angle. You left that behind with your dignity when you picked a CEO over your husband.
She stood there shaking, angry, puzzled, and ashamed. All of it rolled into one.
And then she stormed out, slamming the door.
When I returned, she was gone.
Then Evelyn arrived.
I told her everything, how Jennifer reacted and what she said.
Evelyn did not flinch. She just nodded and continued. She was never going to handle this well. She's not used to losing.
We sat on the back terrace and ate leftovers straight from the dish with forks. Classy? Perhaps not. Satisfying? Oh, yes.
Jennifer had made her decision. She had to accept it.
And me? I finally felt free.
The circus officially began the following day.
Twelve missed calls before eight a.m. Two voicemails began with, Can we talk? and ended with, You're a snake. Really productive.
Then followed the texting binge. She struck me and said, You're throwing everything away. You're being cruel. You'll regret this.
And my particular favorite. Evelyn was never your friend. She used you.
I did not respond to any of them. Not because I lacked words. I had plenty. But I felt the best way to make her feel helpless was to let her scream into the emptiness.
Meanwhile, I met with my attorney.
Let me tell you something, future Reddit husbands. If you do one thing before you marry, get a freaking prenup. Not because you expect things to go wrong, but because if they do and your wife decides to consider your marriage as a temporary contract, you'll be sitting in a chair like I was sipping coffee while your lawyer scans through the file and says, She doesn't get a dime. Not one damn dime.
He looked up at me, smirking. You kept the original signatures.
I nodded. Hard copy and scanned. Safety deposit box.
He chuckled and leaned back. You, my friend, are my new favorite client.
The prenuptial agreement was plain and unambiguous. Unfortunately, there was no infidelity provision, but it protected everything I owned at the time. My money, the property I bought before we married, my truck, my equipment, and the business I fought so hard for.
He kept reading aloud in order to twist the knife. All income from premarital business entities shall remain separate and immune to division in the event of divorce.
He stared at me again. That includes the shop and those two rental properties.
I nodded. Everything, even the lawnmowers.
He laughed. Man came with receipts and weed whackers.
Jennifer was only entitled to what was in her personal checking account and what she departed with. That is it. There is no spousal support, no half of anything, including the dog.
She didn't want the dog anyway. She called me too clingy, as if this is a terrible thing for a pet.
He slid the papers across the desk. All you have to do now is sign. We'll courier this over to her.
And this is exactly what I did.
I signed the divorce papers that day. My lawyer sent them to her flat. Yes, she moved into a high-rise rental after leaving as if she were beginning a new chapter.
She contacted me again once she was served.
Are you serious?
I replied back with one line. Dead serious. You opened the door. I'm just closing it behind you.
She responded, I didn't know what was in the prenup.
I merely replied, Not my fault.
I didn't hear back after that.
But do you know who did hear from her? Evelyn.
Jennifer couldn't just accept the loss and go on. No, silence is not her strong suit.
Jennifer apparently showed up at her apartment uninvited, as if she were organizing an intervention.
According to Evelyn, she knocked as if she was trying to break in. No warning, no text, only wrath and high heels.
Evelyn opens the door calmly, as if she had expected a package rather than a tantrum.
Right on Q, Jennifer enters full drama class. You betrayed me. How could you do this to me?
Evelyn did not flinch. She merely stood there with her hand on the door as if she was considering whether to listen to her or simply walk away and let her yell at the wood.
Evelyn then says quietly and directly. You wrecked your own marriage. I just decided I wasn't going to clean up the mess for you. You gave up the job and now you're mad someone else applied.
Jennifer stood transfixed, perhaps waiting for Evelyn to apologize or soften up.
Instead, Evelyn told me she looked her in the eyes and said, If this is what you came here for, you can leave the same way you came in alone. Before closing the door.