Who's the Poor Thing Now?

Stacy had a nanny, a housekeeper, and a butler—she didn't have to lift a finger at all. As long as she stayed away from gambling, that money would last her several lifetimes.

A young girl adopted from the orphanage—now she had struck it rich and lost a husband. Most people couldn't even dream of getting that lucky.

So I didn't understand why, in everyone's eyes, she was somehow the most pitiful one.

I was exhausted to see her appearing everywhere in my life, yet I couldn't even accuse her of being a mistress who wrecked someone's marriage.

I heard myself saying, "I want a divorce."

Troy's eyes widened in anger. "You want a divorce over something so small?"

I nodded nonchalantly. "Think whatever you want."

Over something so small? Sure.

While he spent every day and night with Stacy, I kept telling myself that it was only right for him to do that. We were family, after all. And she had just lost her husband, so it was understandable she needed someone there for her.

But the truth was, I couldn't stand sharing my husband with another woman. Even if she was my sister-in-law on paper.

I took the divorce agreement out of the drawer. I had prepared it a long time ago, but I kept waiting—waiting for things to get better. Yet, all I got in return was his escalating disregard.

"Troy, once we're divorced, you'll finally be free to take care of her openly and without guilt."

In that instant, Troy lost it.

He swept the roses off the table and pointed at me, his expression cold. "When did you become like this? I'll say it one more time—there's nothing going on between me and her. So stop dragging her name through the mud!

"Take some time to cool off. I'm not getting divorced, and my parents would never agree to it either."

He quickly put his coat back on and slammed the door on his way out.

I glanced at the clock—13 minutes.

After a fight, he could've chosen any room in the house. But his instinct was to walk out the door. I didn't even have to guess where he went.

Stacy called to apologize, but her tone was light, almost smug.

"Diane, Troy's at my place. I heard you two had another fight? Can't you two just talk things through? If Troy's treating you badly, just tell me—I'll help you teach him a lesson."

I laughed in exasperation, "You'll help me? Oh, so he listens to you that much now? Do you really have no idea why we're even fighting?

"Ask Troy—what kind of husband runs off to his widowed sister-in-law in the middle of the night after a fight? Stacy, do you even know what the word 'self-respect' means?"

Stacy choked for a second, and before I could hang up, I heard her crying through the phone. "Fine. I'll just die! Is that what you want?"

"You're bullying my mommy. I hate you!" Jude's voice rang out in the background, loud and clear. He didn't sound sick in the slightest.

Troy took the phone and said angrily, "You want to divorce? Fine! Just don't regret it."

Then he hung up.

I sat there listening to the dial tone for a while, then stood up and went to pack. But I quickly realized there were traces of me everywhere in this house.

The flowers on the windowsill were arranged by me. The curtains and carpet were my choice. And even the scent in the bathroom was one I specially picked out.

Troy always said to me, "You're the best, honey. With you around, I don't have to worry about a thing."

The result was that this home seemed to carry only traces of my life, and the only person he ever truly cared about was Stacy.

The thought that she might one day move in, live in my house, and sleep in my bed made me sick to my stomach.

I took what I could, but I made sure the house was mine in the divorce agreement. I packed a few changes of clothes and drove through the night to my parents' home.

I didn't wake my parents. I just went to my room quietly and let myself fall into a deep sleep.

…

The next morning, Troy was sitting in the living room. He looked worn out, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

I ignored him and sat at the dining table, asking the maid Wanda Kline to make me breakfast.

After Dad finished eating, he said to me, "Diane, when you're done eating, go back home."