End of Twenty-Year Marriage

Half of my life was spent in a marriage with a professor, only to discover he was having an affair with one of his students and even had a six-year-old child with her.

On the day I planned to report his misconduct to the university, Jemma appeared at my doorstep with the child, pleading on her knees.

"Maybe you and Kevin were in love once, but he's in his forties now, and who doesn’t want to leave a legacy?" she said. "I don’t need a title or any rights, and I'll even step aside with the child. I just beg you not to tear our family apart."

Looking at my husband shielding them, I felt a disturbing calmness. "Cut all ties with them, or I will report you to the university. The choice is yours."

Without any hesitation, he tore up the complaint letter. I thought he had made his choice. However, on the fifty-second cold night of solitude, he didn’t come home, and instead, I heard about Jemma’s second pregnancy.

By then, Jemma had graduated, and my previous threat posed no risk to them anymore. Kevin no longer hid his fatigue and disdain. "Treat Jemma and Eiden kindly, or continue living alone. Your choice."

My heart felt like ashes. "Isn’t there another option? I choose divorce."

Kevin looked at me in disbelief before letting out a bitter laugh. "Are you joking? Bringing up divorce over every little thing?"

I lowered my eyes. "No, this time it's real."

He sneered at that, removing the ring he'd worn for twenty years and tossing it at me. Along with it, twenty years of companionship scattered across the floor. I took a deep breath, removed my well-maintained gold ring, and placed it on the table. The gold earrings and necklace from our wedding had been pawned to support his research. The ring was the last facade of our marriage, and now, I returned it to him.

Kevin’s expression was complex as he looked at me. He probably expected me to lash out, to fight tooth and nail over this situation. In the past, I might have. But fifty-two cold nights had already extinguished the hope in my heart.

"Aurelia, stop this. Jemma has already made many concessions," he said. "I know you don’t really want a divorce. Besides, I can’t abandon Jemma and the children. Eiden is only six; you too were from a single-parent home. Can you really bear to let him grow up without a father?"

I stared at him, this man I had shared a life with for twenty years, now a stranger. Even my most painful memories were used as bargaining chips in his argument.

My mother died during childbirth, and my father blamed me for everything, making my life a living hell. It instilled in me a deep fear of marriage and children. Kevin was the one who broke down my walls, claiming he didn’t want children either, calling us a perfect match.

Back then, not having kids was seen as unusual, yet he resolutely eloped with me, and we weathered the toughest times in a city far from home.

Of course, no matter how careful, mistakes happen. We were once expecting a child. Somehow, word got out, and his parents found us, promising that if I had the child, they’d take care of it and give us a million dollars to live as we wished.

I almost gave in, ready to have the child, but Kevin held my hand and talked with me through the night. "You needn’t worry about external pressures, just follow your heart. I will always stand by you."

"But now, with advances in medicine, you can survive even difficult childbirth. Are you sure you don’t want a child?"

He nodded and drove me to the clinic for a termination. After that, he got a vasectomy. But a vasectomy isn’t foolproof; it’s as unreliable as past promises.

Looking back, I was pregnant six years ago, and now Jemma and Kevin’s child is six. It all seems too coincidental. After Jemma gave birth, Kevin even asked me to help with the baby.

I looked at Kevin with empty eyes; his face in his forties, aside from a few wrinkles, was still almost as handsome as twenty years ago, yet he was no longer the man who only had eyes for me.

“You say you can’t bear for the child to be without a father. But can you bear for me to be without a husband?”

“I only have you.”

He closed his eyes, seemingly struggling. “For so many years, I’ve respected your wishes and never pressured you to have children. Why can’t you understand my situation? We could bring Jemma and Eiden to live with us.”

“I have not fallen so low!” I interrupted him, agitated. “If you bring her here, what does that make me? A wife among many, or their nanny? Do you think it’s kind to let me watch my husband share his life with someone else? How can you be so heartless?”

I collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He tried to help me but was stopped by Eiden tugging on his shirt.

Eiden and Jemma said nothing, but they had already won. Kevin left with them, leaving me with only, “Think it over.”

On the 53rd night of solitude, I tore off the calendar I used to count the days and called a friend from law school, “Could you draft a divorce agreement for me? This time, it’s real.”

---

Kevin disappeared for a month, but I knew where he was. Most of his social media and shopping accounts were linked to my phone, and I’d been receiving appointment confirmations from a maternity care center for days. He was likely by Jemma’s side now.

I didn’t need such convoluted deductions to know his whereabouts; I had Jemma’s contact on WhatsApp. Yet, ever since discovering their affair, I rarely had the courage to open her status or our chat.

Jemma used to send me videos of Eiden. “Auntie, Eiden has grown taller.” “Eiden learned to recognize people. I’ll bring him to see you next time.” “Auntie, I’m busy with my thesis. Could you pick up Eiden for me?”

For three years of her graduate studies, I thought we had a normal teacher-student friendship, always replying patiently. Now, these memories turned into thorns, tormenting my naive past self.

Jemma messaged me again: “Auntie, Kevin is with me. Don’t worry.” I clicked on her status, and her latest video was posted just minutes ago, but it already had two comments. One from Kevin: “I’ll pick you up after your prenatal yoga.” And one from his mother: “Take lots of pictures of my adorable grandson. I love seeing them.”

Because of my childlessness and our elopement, my relationship with Kevin’s mother had plummeted to freezing point. It wasn't until a few years ago, at a family reunion, that we added each other on social media. But now, scrolling through Jemma’s updates, I realized they’d been interacting for the past six years behind my back. Was I the only one kept in the dark?

Dazed, I left the house intending to buy groceries, but I ran into Kevin’s mother, who was with Eiden.

“What would you like to eat, sweetie? Grandma will make it for you tonight,” she spoke to him affectionately but returned to her usual venomous demeanor upon seeing me. Eiden stood protected behind her.

“What are you doing here? Are you trying to harm my grandson? Even if you cling to marriage, it doesn’t change the blood running through Eiden’s veins. He and his mother will be part of the family, unlike you. You’ve made my son suffer all these years. We don’t recognize you as a daughter-in-law.”

I forced a bitter smile, unsure of how to respond. Eiden eyed the cookies in my hand, and without a word, Kevin’s mother snatched them away. Despite knowing about Kevin’s infidelity and even facing Jemma’s visit, I hadn’t backed down. But this time, I fled in disarray.

Having skipped dinner, my stomach issues flared. In a haze, I writhed on the bed in pain and almost instinctively dialed a familiar number.

Before long, warm water and pills were at my lips. It felt like time had rewound to the days of our affection; every time my stomach ached, he’d be there with medicine.

Later, I learned he always kept a small container of pills in his pocket, close to his heart. Now, just like then, he fished out pills from his pocket and placed them into my palm with practiced ease. “Forgot to buy medicine again? I have plenty.”

“Even if I’m not around, take care of yourself.”

Tears spilled uncontrollably. “Keep the medicine. I don’t need it; I just need you. Please don’t go.”

He held me tightly. “Alright, alright, I won’t go. I’ll always be with you.”

“I know you mentioned divorce in anger. How could I ever leave you?”

Kevin kissed my forehead softly, his voice soothing the storm inside me. He said he was initially driving home, but upon receiving my call, he rushed over. He insisted I was the most important person to him.

We continued speaking, nestled together as if newlyweds, sweet as a dream. I lingered in his embrace.