Harder to Divorce

At twenty-six, my family finally wore me down, and I started going on dates. I never imagined my first setup would be with Julian Croft, the man Id secretly loved for seven years.
Six months later, he smiled at me and said, Ivy, how did I not see you sooner?
My unrequited love had finally, miraculously, found its way home. He was in love with me.
On our first wedding anniversary, I was scrolling through my phone when I came across a video from The Peregrine, a famous indie bookstore known for its art installations. This one featured a public display: a fifty-page letter, strung up with nearly a hundred plane and train tickets.
Every line was a bloody testament to a love that couldn't be, a story so painful it brought onlookers to tears.
Curious, I zoomed in on a photo of the letter's final page. The signature was a simple set of initials: J.C.
The object of his undying devotion wasn't me. It was his ex-girlfriend, Stella.
And the cruelest twist? I was pregnant.
Getting a divorce was suddenly going to be very, very hard.

1
A hot tear splashed onto my phone screen.
A moment ago, I was crying for the tragic star-crossed lovers in the video.
Now, I was crying for myself.
I tried to lie, to tell myself the initials were just a coincidence. But Id spent my high school years filling every notebook with Julians name. I had practiced his handwriting until it was a perfect imitation. He used to joke that I could sign documents for him one day.
Outside, lightning tore across the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder.
I dialed his number.
"Ivy, I'm so sorry, the flight's delayed. I promise I'll make our anniversary up to you, okay?"
He was in Austin for a business trip.
My voice was a low rasp. "Does a business trip really have to keep you out this late?"
"You miss me, don't you? It's all my fault. I'll make it up to you when I get back," he cooed, his voice warm and soothing. "And remember, no ice cream. Be good."
He hung up, but I felt a hand closing around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs.
The comment section of the video was a flood of heartbroken messages.
"Why can't two people who love each other this much be together?"
"She had no choice, and he's just numbing the pain. This is killing me. Someone please let them be together!"
So, for the past year and a half, his love for his ex had never faded. Not for a second.
I remembered my best friends warning. A man who ends a five-year relationship with nothing to show for it Ivy, be careful. His heart might not have room for anyone else. Trying to get in there will be like trying to climb a sheer cliff.
But my own heart had been too high on hope. I believed the past was the past, that we would move forward together.
Instead, behind my back, he was flying from New York to Austin, again and again. He was standing outside Stellas apartment building, just to catch a glimpse of her.
It was almost eleven p.m. The restaurant was closing.
My legs were numb as I walked out into the stormy night, my eyes vacant.
And then he was there, holding an umbrella, standing right in front of me.
He was smiling, and with a flourish, he produced a glittering necklace, letting it dangle before my eyes.
It was the one Id saved to my favorites list weeks ago.
"Happy anniversary, Ivy."
"The traffic was a nightmare, so I took a motorcycle taxi. The driver floored it when I told him I was late for my wedding anniversary."
He fastened it around my neck himself, draping his jacket over my shoulders against the chill.
A lump formed in my throat, and a tear escaped, tracing a path down my cold cheek.
He panicked. "Ivy, are you mad at me?" he asked, his hands fluttering nervously. "Or have I been so bad at getting you gifts that one actually moved you to tears? I promise I'll work on being more romantic!"
His embrace was warm, but a deep, numbing cold spread through my veins.
"Was the trip to Austin successful? Run into any old acquaintances?"
"It went fine. No old faces, though. I was in such a rush to get back to you, I barely even checked my work messages."
I gripped the lapels of his coat, the words I know everything on the tip of my tongue. But before I could speak, the world went black.
"Ivy! Ivy, wake up! Don't scare me!"

2
When I woke up in the hospital, Julian was holding my hand, his grip tight and possessive.
He was smiling, a wide, frantic grin that set my teeth on edge.
"Ivy, we're going to have a baby."
His voice was choked with emotion. "You're going to be a mom, and I'm going to be a dad. Thank you, Ivy. Thank you."
He kissed my forehead, then pressed his ear to my flat stomach, murmuring to it. "You have to be good in there, little one. Don't make things hard for your mom. Being pregnant is tough work."
I felt drained, hollowed out, my fingers weakly clutching the sterile white sheets.
If things had been different, this baby would have been the beautiful result of our love.
But all I could picture was him, fresh from crying outside Stellas apartment, putting on this mask of a loving husband for me. The joy just wouldn't come.
"Julian, I want a divorce."
The air in the room turned to ice.
How was I supposed to live in a marriage built on a foundation of lies?
He pressed my hand to his cheek, his eyes red-rimmed. "The doctor told me pregnancy hormones can make you emotional. It's okay, Ivy. Don't be scared. I'm not going anywhere."
"I've already requested time off from work to be with you. Don't be anxious. We're going to be okay, alright?"
I buried my face in my pillow and cried without a sound.
Later that night, I told my friends about the pregnancy in our group chat.
"Ivy, you've officially won at life! You married your dream guy, and now you're having a baby together!"
"Julian's going to treat you like a national treasure! Make him take that time off. He needs to take care of you!"
I stroked my stomach, a profound sense of loss washing over me.
Julian was the man I had bragged about to them countless times. I always said our love was the real deal, meant to be.
Now, I couldn't bring myself to tell them the truth about our crumbling marriage.
Maybe a child would change things. Maybe, for the baby, he would stop going to Austin.
After taking his leave, Julian threw himself into caring for me. He insisted on learning to cook from his mother over the phone, refusing to let her come over and "get in the way."
That afternoon, he took a call. I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes, quickly masked.
"Ivy, there's a huge problem at the branch office. I have to go, but I'll be back within the day."
"Okay. Go."
He booked the next flight out.
The destination was Austin.
I booked a seat on the same flight and boarded right behind him.
He was too engrossed in a phone call with Stella to notice me.
"Stella, I'm almost there. Don't do anything stupid."
"Who said no one loves you? There hasn't been a moment I haven't missed you. Don't you understand that?"
I leaned against the window, my face hidden under a baseball cap, tears blurring my vision.
I couldn't explain why I was doing it. I just had to see for myself how deep his obsession ran.
And when I saw them in front of her apartment building, wrapped in each other's arms, I knew I had lost completely.
Stella was crying, pounding her fists against his chest, and his eyes were filled with nothing but excruciating pain, as if her sorrow was his own, magnified a thousand times over.
"Julian, you're married now! You're supposed to be happy! What are you doing here?"
"I don't need your pity! You're the one who pushed me away!"
"Stella, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Marriage was a last resort for me. I couldn't let you go."
"You have no idea how many times I've come here this past year, just to look at you from a distance, unable to hold you. Do you know how much that tears me apart?"
I cross-referenced the dates on his letter.
The day I was in a near car accident, getting screamed at by the other driver, Julian was here, leaving a bouquet of flowers at Stellas door.
The day my boss was making my life hell and I called him, crying, he was here, fixing a lightbulb in her apartment.
The day a burglar broke into our home and I was almost assaulted, he was here, walking her dog, holding her hand
In every single moment I needed him to hold me, he was a thousand miles away, comforting his other love.

3
I prayed he would remember his family, his unborn child.
But he followed Stella into the elevator and went up to her apartment.
The bedroom light flickered on. Through the curtains, I could see their two shadows, tangled together.
The Austin night was colder than back home. The wind cut through my coat like a knife.
I sat on the curb, forcing myself to stare at those two silhouettes, a form of self-torture.
Julian had transferred to my high school in our junior year. He was quiet, brilliant in every subject, a natural athlete. He was popular.
I was just a quiet member of his physics study group.
One day, a sudden downpour caught us after school. He gave me his umbrella and ran out into the rain, grinning back at me. "Get home safe," he'd called.
And just like that, my bittersweet, secret love began.
We went to the same university, though we were in different programs. He was still the center of every room, a star, and I was always there in the crowd, watching him shine.
In his sophomore year, he started dating Stella, a girl from his department. Their names became a constant, painful refrain around campus.
So I buried myself in my studies, swallowing the jealousy and the lonely tears that came with loving someone who wasn't mine.
After graduation, I went to a different school for my master's, and our paths diverged. I knew he and Stella were happy together. By the end of my first year of grad school, I had finally, unilaterally, ended my seven-year crush.
The next time I saw him, he was sitting across from me on a blind date.
He was mature, steady, and easy to talk to. The blood in my veins, dormant for so long, began to stir.
I frantically texted my friends for advice.
Julian pursued me for a year. I saw his sincerity, and I finally agreed to be with him.
I never told him about my past. I wanted him to love me for me, not out of some pity for the girl who had pined for him for so long.
Our marriage was blissfully happy. He understood my every mood, my every unspoken need. He never made me sad.
He was just so good at hiding the truth. Looking back, I can't tell which of his sighs were for her, and which, if any, were for me.
The sun began to rise, the tear tracks on my face long since dry.
Julian emerged from Stellas building. They were both smiling.
I pushed myself up on numb legs, but I didn't have the courage to confront them.
In his mind, they had five years together. I had only been in his life for two.
Somehow, that simple math made me feel like the intruder, and the word bastard died in my throat.
My phone rang. I snatched it up.
"Ivy! Your father had a stroke! He's in the hospital! You and Julian need to get here now!"
My body went rigid. I looked back, but Julian was already putting Stella in a car, sending her off to work.
I booked the fastest flight home.
Outside the operating room, my mother and I clung to each other, whispering reassurances we didn't believe. I told her Julian was on his way.
But my texts to him went unanswered.
The exhaustion of travel, the stress, the pregnancyit was all too much. I collapsed.
In my dreams, I remembered why Julian and Stella had broken up.
It was the long distance, and her family's vehement disapproval.
But it was also because Stella had health issues and couldn't conceive. Julians mother would never accept her.
Caught between their families, exhausted and defeated, they had finally gone their separate ways.
A few days ago, Julian had been waking up in the middle of the night, just to sit by my bed, making sure I had water if I got thirsty.
I thought he was being caring. Now I see it wasn't about my pregnancy. He was probably imagining it was Stella lying beside him, thinking how perfect his life would have been.
I struggled to open my eyes. My mother was beside me, her face swollen from crying.
"Ivy," she sobbed, "your father he might not make it."
He was hooked up to a ventilator, unresponsive. The doctor said wed gotten him here too late. There was little hope.
I pulled my mother up from the floor where she had crumpled. "Mom, you have to be strong. We can't fall apart."
The suddenness of it all was suffocating me.
After being gone for two days and a night, Julian finally arrived, looking worn and tired.
He wasn't alone. Stella was with him.

4
My father was dying. My mother was in shock.
And Julian walked up to me, holding Stellas hand.
Perhaps sensing the tension, Stella pulled her hand free.
"Ivy, don't misunderstand. I heard about your father, and I was worried, so I came to see if I could help."
"Don't worry," she added, her voice soft and placating. "Julian knows the top specialists at this hospital. They'll make sure your father gets the best care."
My voice was sharp, laced with fury. "My family is none of your concern, Stella."
She shrank back, and Julian immediately stepped in front of her. "Ivy, don't take it out on her. She was just trying to be kind."
"Stella had a problem at work, and she didn't have anyone else she could trust. That's why I had to help, and why I'm late."
"Helping her in bed? You're a dedicated employee."
His eyes flashed with anger, his tone accusatory. "Ivy, do you have to make everything sound so sordid?"
"Whatever. Julian, if you want a divorce, you can at least wait until my father recovers."
"Ivy, that's not what I meant!"
A commotion erupted from the hospital room. I ran.
My father was conscious.
My mother knelt by his bed. "You can't go," she pleaded. "You haven't even met your grandchild yet."
I wiped my eyes. "Dad, we're all here with you."
He nodded weakly, gesturing for Julian to come closer.
Julian did as he was told. "Dad, we're here."
My father took my hand and Julians, pressing them together. "Live... a good life..." he managed to say, his speech slurred.
Beside us, Stella suddenly clutched her throat and retched loudly.
Julian dropped my hand and rushed to her side, gathering her in his arms. "Stella, what's wrong? Are you okay? Lean on me."
She looked up at him, her face pale. "Julian... that night... we didn't use anything..."
Her eyes were wide with a feigned innocence. "Could it be? Am I really pregnant?"
The words were a lightning strike that ripped through me, leaving me scorched and bleeding.
My father struggled to lift his hand, pointing a trembling finger at them. "Youhow could you betray Ivy"
The heart monitor shrieked, a long, piercing tone. My father convulsed twice, then his eyes closed, a look of profound disappointment etched on his face.
I threw myself onto the bed. "Dad! Dad, don't go to sleep!"
My mother let out a raw, animalistic wail and lunged at Stella. "You heartless bitch! You killed him!"
"Ma'am, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"
Julian shoved my mother to protect Stella, sending her stumbling back into the wall. "Mom, you can't touch her! She's pregnant!"
He stood over Stella, a fierce protector. "I'm here. No one is going to hurt you."
A blind rage consumed me. I flew at him, my nails bared.
He held Stella tightly with one arm and grabbed my shoulder with the other, flinging me away with brutal force.
I slammed into the wall, stars exploding behind my eyes.
My mother screamed. "Ivy, your leg! You're bleeding"

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