The Unbridgeable Distance Between Us

My husband was ruled by his obsessive-compulsive disorder, enforcing rigid schedules that governed our household.

On our daughter's birthday, he and his assistant showed up late.

The girl, who mirrored her father's need for order, wasn't upset. She just smiled and invited them to cut her cake.

My heart shattered as I watched their cream-covered faces and joyful photos.

The next day, I handed him the divorce agreement, confusing him.

"Just because Edith didn't cut the cake with you?"

"Yes."

...

My husband, Victor Grayson, glanced at the divorce agreement.

"According to the schedule, you should be abroad closing a deal, not here causing a scene," he said. "I have a meeting in three minutes. You can leave."

His dismissive tone struck me as absurd. Before I could respond, his assistant burst through the door.

Helene White reported, "Sir, it's all set. We can head out to..."

She stopped short, spotting me. "Oh, Mrs. Grayson is here. Sorry for the interruption."

Her dejected look prompted Victor to call after her, "No need. She's leaving."

His pointed glare urged me to go. Unfazed, I opened the document and tapped the signature line. "Sign here, and I'll be gone."

He shot to his feet, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with anger.

Helene sensed the tension in the air, lowering her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were discussing business."

She cast Victor a wounded glance and hurried out.

Worried, he grabbed a pen and signed it with a flourish. "You broke the rules. Deal with the consequences."

With that icy remark, he chased after Helene, abandoning his usual composure.

Alone in the empty office, I let out a bitter laugh.

Victor's obsession with rules had defined our marriage. Every detail of our home adhered to his strict schedules. Any slip-up meant punishment.

Once, those rules applied to both me and our daughter, Edith Grayson. But as she adopted his habits, I became the sole target.

In seven years, I'd never seen him lose his cool. Yet, at Edith's birthday party, he arrived drunk, his arm around Helene, while Edith happily pulled them to cut her cake.

My mind went blank. The red marks on his neck and Edith's warm kiss on Helene's cheek left one thought in my head.

Divorce!

Victor's talk of rules was a cruel joke. He had forgotten them long ago.

While I needed appointments to see him, Helene could barge into his office unannounced.

Now he ran off with her, claiming a meeting. The irony was biting.

Clutching the signed document, I walked out and got in my car, where I loosened my tie and let my thoughts drift.

A sharp ring from my phone jolted me back.

It was Edith's teacher. "Mrs. Grayson? Edith left school in a hurry and forgot her backpack. Can you pick it up?"

...

I was baffled. According to the schedule, Edith should be at school, preparing for a math competition, rather than leaving early.