His Depression Got Me Dumped

The next day, Mara came home and dropped three copies of a divorce agreement in front of me.

She'd already signed them.

I stared at the papers for a long time. When impatience crept onto her face, I picked up a pen and signed all three copies.

Silence stretched between us.

Finally, Mara sighed and, for once, offered an explanation. "We're not really getting divorced. I'm not abandoning you.

"I was going to visit Mom after the gathering last night, but Asher's depression flared up again.

"I only did all that to cheer him up. Once he's better, we'll get back together. And I hope you'll stop causing trouble for him. He got depressed because we got married. I can't just ignore him."

I looked at her.

Dark circles shadowed her eyes.

She'd probably spent the whole night with Asher again.

My gaze dropped to the divorce papers. Our names sat side by side, close enough to touch.

When I didn't respond, her patience ran out.

"Did you hear me?"

"Got it."

She clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

Pressing her lips together, she stood.

"Pack your things. Asher's still filming, and this place is close to the set. I'm letting him stay here for a while. You should move out first."

I nodded.

For some reason, my obedience only seemed to annoy her more.

"You'd better mean it. Don't act one way in front of me and another behind my back. Otherwise, I'll stop paying your mother's medical bills."

My breath caught.

The first time I learned about Asher was on a night Mara never came home.

I searched for her until dawn.

Eventually, I found her in an apartment near her company.

She and Asher were asleep in each other's arms.

His hand was under her shirt, wrapped around her waist.

Something inside me snapped.

I dragged him out of bed and punched him.

Mara didn't explain.

She didn't look guilty.

She just slapped me.

Then she told me to paint for Asher. He needed artwork for a competition the next month.

I refused.

So she broke my hand to make Asher feel better.

"Wilde, what's more important? A hand or a life? Do you even understand that Asher has depression?"

From then on, Asher became a permanent part of our lives.

Every holiday.

Every birthday.

Every anniversary.

Every Christmas.

He always had a reason to call her away.

Even on the anniversary of my father's death, one phone call from Asher was enough for Mara to leave without looking back.

I turned into the bitter husband who argued with her over everything.

But this time, I was done.

I finally understood.

Everything Mara and I had shared over the years meant less to her than the bond she had with her childhood friend.

Something flickered across her face as she looked at me.

Surprise.

Unease.

Then her phone rang.

Asher.

The unease disappeared instantly.

She headed for the door, then suddenly stopped.

"Where are you planning to go?"

I lowered my eyes for a moment.

"I'll probably leave Radenska. Stay far away from both of you."

Something seemed to click for her.

"So you're finally behaving? Realized your little tantrums won't work, so now you're trying something new to get me back? Fine. Go abroad. Stay out of Asher's sight so you don't trigger him. When he gets better, I'll come get you."

Then she rushed out the door.