She Signed the Divorce Papers on Our Wedding Day

On our third wedding anniversary, Gina stumbled in drunk. In her haze, she grabbed my wrist, mistaking me for someone else.

Dave, you finally divorced. I've waited so long, she mumbled, her voice trembling with suppressed excitement. I stayed frozen, letting her hold on.

For three years, I went to your office instead of your wife. I bought you flowers. Every second was agony. Her words slurred lower until she collapsed on the bed.

I sat by her side until dawn. When she woke and saw me, relief washed over her face. "So you know. Good. I don't have to pretend anymore."

She confessed she and Dave were now togetherofficial as of yesterday, our anniversary. "I chased him for three years, and he finally said yes. I'm sorry, but what we have is real."

I nodded silently, opened the nightstand, and pulled out two divorce agreements. The date was blank, but the signature line was already filled in Ginas own handwriting, dated the same day we got our marriage certificate, three years ago.

She snatched the papers from my hands, flipping through them twice in disbelief.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Exactly what it looks like," I replied. "When you signed this three years ago, I told you. Whenever you figured your shit out, just fill in the date."

She slammed the documents down on the nightstand. The sharp smack of paper echoed in the room.

"Dave had no idea I was chasing him these past three years," she argued. "He only agreed to be with me yesterday. I did not cheat. I never betrayed you."

I stood up to grab a glass of water.

"I know," I said. "You came home on time every night. You spent weekends here. You never missed a holiday gift. You didn't physically cheat."

She followed me into the hall.

"Then what is this? Three years? You had divorce papers waiting for me this whole time?"

I set the glass down.

"You were wasted last night. When I carried you to bed, you called out his name twenty-three times."

That shut her up.

I walked right past her back into the bedroom, picked up the two copies of the agreement, set them neatly on the nightstand, and placed a pen right next to them.

"Fill in the date yourself. I am going to work."

As I was changing my shoes by the door, she chased after me, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood. Her voice was thick and sticky.

"You are just going to walk out?"

I straightened up and looked back at her.

"What else am I supposed to do? You confessed to him yesterday. Did you make things clear with him today? Is he waiting for you? Did you guys pick a time for your first real date?"

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"I figured it out for you," I said. "Today is Thursday. You guys can grab dinner on Friday, maybe catch a movie over the weekend. I will come back on Monday to pack the rest of my stuff."

When the front door clicked shut behind me, she didn't follow.

The elevator arrived quickly.

I stood inside, watching the glowing red numbers tick down one by one.

Lobby.

The doors slid open. A delivery guy was standing right there, holding a massive bouquet of red roses, squinting at the shipping label.

"Dave?" he looked up and asked me.

I told him no.

He stepped aside, and I walked out.

The morning sun was blindingly harsh.

A white BMW was parked right outside the apartment gates.

As I walked closer, the driver's side window rolled down, revealing Dave's face.

He offered me a faint smile. It looked fragile, like it slipped out by accident, or maybe it was entirely calculated.

"Charlie," he called out. "Is Gina around?"

I kept walking, looping around the front of his car.

He called out from behind me, "She drank too much last night. I was worried about her, so I came to check."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

When I turned around, he was already out of the car. He wore a crisp white button down shirt, his hair styled perfectly, his face clean and totally bare of makeup.

I had seen this exact look a million times. In the photos on Gina's phone. Standing outside her office building.

"She did drink too much," I said. "She drank at my house."

He flinched.

"Charlie, please do not misunderstand..."

"I am not misunderstanding anything," I cut him off. "She got trashed last night, gripped my wrist, and screamed your name twenty-three times. She woke up this morning and told me she finally wore you down. You two are officially a couple."

A deep flush crept up his neck and face.

"Charlie, I am so, so sorry. I really didn't do it on purpose. I honestly had no idea she was married. She never told me."

I stared at him.

His eyes were already red, a faint shimmer of tears caught on his eyelashes. He bit his bottom lip, looking like he had suffered the greatest injustice in the world, trying desperately to hold back his crying.

I was way too familiar with this routine.

"Well, now you know," I said. "She is upstairs. Apartment 301. Go on up."

He stood frozen in place.

Footsteps hurried up from behind me. Gina's voice cut through the air. "Dave?"

I glanced over my shoulder.

She had run outside in her slippers. Her hair was a mess, her shirt wrinkled. When she saw Dave standing there, she hesitated for a split second before marching straight over.

She stepped right in front of him, physically blocking him from me.

"What are you trying to do?" she glared at me, her voice dropping to a low, threatening register.

I let out a dry laugh.

"What did I do?"

She shielded him with her body, tucking him behind her back like she was terrified I was going to throw a punch.

"He does not know anything," she declared. "I was the one who went after him. I lied and told him I was single. If you are pissed, take it out on me. Do not mess with him."

Dave peeked out from behind her shoulder, his voice tiny. "Gina, please don't be like this. Charlie didn't even say anything..."

I actually laughed out loud.

"I haven't even said anything yet," I said. "But you guys are already putting on an Oscar winning performance."

Gina furrowed her brows.

"Stop being so passive aggressive."

"Me? Passive aggressive?" I looked at her, then at the half of Dave's face visible behind her. "Dave, didn't you just apologize to me? You just claimed you had no idea she was married, and now she is saying she lied to you. So which one of you is full of shit?"

A single tear slipped down Dave's cheek.

Gina glanced back at him, and when she turned to face me again, her expression was pure ice.

"Enough," she snapped. "I will sign the papers. Whatever you want, you can have it. Just do not touch him."

I stared at her.

Three years. She had never looked at me like that in three years. She had never stepped in front of me to protect me from anything.

"Whatever I want?" I echoed. "I don't want a damn thing. The agreement is already blank. Fill it out yourself. Your parents put the down payment on the house, and I paid the mortgage for the last three years. Do the math and wire the equity to my account. The car is yours, keep it. I will pack my own shit and leave."

She was stunned into silence.

Dave stepped out from behind her and gently tugged at her sleeve.

"Gina, stop fighting. I am fine..."

Gina reached back and grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers tightly.

I looked at their locked hands and suddenly felt incredibly bored by the whole spectacle.

"Alright," I said. "I will be back on Monday for my boxes. You two kids have fun."

I turned and walked toward the street.

About a dozen steps later, I heard footsteps rushing up behind me.

It was Dave.

He jogged over, panting slightly, and grabbed my arm.

"Charlie," he whispered. "I swear to God I didn't know she had a husband. If I knew, I never would have said yes to her. You have to believe me."

I looked down at his fingers wrapping around my forearm.

"Let go."

He didn't.

"Charlie, please don't blame her. This is all my fault."

I ripped my arm out of his grip.

"Dave," I said. "Do you know what I hate the most about you?"

He stared at me, wide eyed.

"It is not the fact that you like her," I continued. "It is that every single time you show up, you pull this exact routine. You know absolutely everything, yet you act like the most innocent victim on the planet. She chased you for three years. You didn't say yes early on, you didn't say yes later. You specifically chose to say yes yesterday. Do you know what yesterday was?"

His eyes darted away for a fraction of a second.

"Our wedding anniversary."

He stayed completely silent.

"All the flowers she sent you over the last three years, all the dinner dates she booked, all the bullshit excuses she made to see you. You happily took all of it. You expect me to believe you didn't know she had a husband? You didn't know she came straight from your place every time she went home?"

More tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Charlie, I really..."

"Do not say my name like we are friends," I cut him off. "I do not have a buddy like you."

I turned and walked away.

This time, he didn't follow.

When I reached the bus stop, my phone buzzed.

A text from Gina.

"I signed the papers. They are on the shoe cabinet by the door. Let me know before you come pick up your things. I will take him out so you do not have to see him."

I stared at that sentence for a very long time.

The bus rolled up.

I got on and found a seat by the window.

My phone buzzed again.

Her again.

"He suffered a lot these past three years. I will not let that happen anymore."

Dave stood at the bottom of the steps outside City Hall.

He had changed his outfit today, but his face still carried that pristine, untouchable innocence.

When he saw me get out of the cab, he took a step back and kept his mouth shut.

Gina was waiting at the top of the stairs, clutching a folder with her ID and documents.

As I walked up, she gave me a blank look and didn't move.

"Let's go inside," I said.

She turned and walked through the double doors, and I followed. Dave didn't come in. He just stood outside like a loyal guard dog.

The divorce window was separated from the marriage window by a single row of plastic chairs.

We sat down across from the clerk. She was a middle aged woman wearing thick glasses. She kept her head down, flipping through our paperwork without even looking at us.

"Reason for divorce?"

"Irreconcilable differences," I said.

Gina turned her head to look at me.

The clerk skimmed the agreement and pointed a pen at the blank sections. "Make sure the division of assets is clearly written. Leave child support blank if you don't have kids."

I wrote down my bank routing number and handed over copies of the mortgage payment history.

The clerk reviewed it and stamped the pages.

The heavy metal stamp made a dull, final thud against the desk.

"Alright," she slid two dark green divorce certificates across the counter. "One for each of you. Keep them safe."

Gina didn't move a muscle.

I reached out, grabbed both booklets, flipped mine open for a quick glance, and then slid hers over to her side of the desk.

"Take it."

She stared at me, her hands in her lap.

I left it sitting on the counter, stood up, and walked toward the exit.

Right as I reached the glass doors, she called out from behind me.

"Wait."

I stopped.

She hurried over and stood in front of me, her knuckles white around her divorce certificate. All the color had drained from her face.

"You are just going to walk away?"

"What else do you want?" I asked. "Do you want me to buy you guys a celebration dinner?"

A sudden, weird smile cracked across her face.

It was not the relaxed, liberated smile from yesterday morning. It was twisted. The corners of her mouth pulled up, but her eyes were completely dead.

"I really regret it," she spat. "I regret marrying you."

I studied her face.

Three years. I woke up next to this face every single morning for a thousand days.

When she slept, her brow would furrow. Sometimes she would roll over and reach out blindly in the dark. Whenever her hand brushed against me, she would flinch, pull back, and roll to the other side of the bed.

"What did you say?"

"I said I regret it." She locked eyes with me, enunciating every single syllable. "I regretted it from day one. I spent every single day of the last three years regretting it. My biggest regret is..."

I slapped her.

The crack echoed loud through the lobby.

The clerk at the counter snapped her head up. The people in line all turned to stare.

She covered her cheek with her hand, completely paralyzed in shock.

I shook out my hand. My palm was stinging.

"That was for me. For wasting three years of my life."

Before she could even form a word, rapid footsteps slapped against the tile.

Dave sprinted through the doors and threw himself in front of her, spreading his arms wide like a mother hen protecting her chick.

"What the hell are you doing!" he yelled, his eyes welling up with tears. "How could you hit her!"

I looked at him.

Tears pooled in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering. He looked absolutely pathetic and utterly heroic all at once.

I let out a scoff.

"Why are you acting so dramatic?"

He shrank back an inch, then forced himself to stand taller.

"She just told you the truth, and you hit her? Do you have any idea what she went through? Every single night for the last three years, she sat in my living room for hours before going home. She told me she felt like she was suffocating in that house. She said just breathing the same air as you made her skin crawl."

"Dave," Gina warned from behind him. "Stop talking."

He ignored her completely. "She bought you gifts, and I was the one who helped her pick them out because she didn't know what you liked. She brought you flowers, and I was the one who had to approve them before she felt safe bringing them home to you."

"Dave!"

He spun around to look at her, the tears finally falling.

"My heart breaks for you," he cried. "I cannot stand watching him bully you anymore."

Gina grabbed his arm and pulled him into her chest, wrapping her arms around him protectively.

She shot me a look I had never seen on her face before.

It was a chaotic mix of pure hatred, fury, heartbreak for him, and guilt. It all condensed into three simple words.

"Just leave."

I stood my ground.

"I was already leaving," I said. "You were the one who told me to wait."

She flinched.

Dave lifted his head from her chest. His face was still wet with tears. He looked at me, his voice dropping to a soft, pleading whisper. "Charlie, please do not be mad at her. She is just in a bad mood today."

I looked at the two of them.

She was shielding him. He was leaning into her. Standing there in the lobby of City Hall, they looked like a pair of star crossed lovers who had finally conquered the world.

The sunlight spilled through the glass doors, painting them in a warm, golden glow.

I shoved my green booklet into my bag, turned around, and walked down the concrete steps.

After a few strides, I heard her voice calling out from behind me. "I am having the locks changed tomorrow. Get your stuff out by tonight."

I didn't look back.

"I saved your routing number. The money will be wired by next week."

I still didn't look back.

Just as I reached the sidewalk, Dave yelled out.

"Charlie!"

I stopped and glanced over my shoulder.

He jogged down the stairs, stopping a few feet away, catching his breath.

"Charlie," he said softly. "I am sorry."

I examined his face.

Tears still stained his cheeks, his eyelashes were wet, the tip of his nose was red. He pressed his lips together, looking like the picture of genuine remorse.

"Sorry for what?"

He paused, caught off guard.

"Sorry for... sorry for saying all those things inside. I didn't mean to explode. I just felt so bad for her."

"Felt bad for what?"

He froze again.

"Felt bad for... her suffering these past three years..."

"What exactly happened these past three years?" I asked flatly. "Did she cheat on me? No. Did she physically abuse me? No. Did she starve me? No. She simply did not love me. What is so heartbreaking about that?"

His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Dave," I said. "If your heart really broke for her, where the hell were you for the last three years? She chased you for a thousand days. You dangled her on a hook for a thousand days, stringing her along until the exact day of her wedding anniversary to finally say yes. Tell me, are you really heartbroken for her, or do you just love the drama of being the victim?"

He had absolutely nothing to say.

I turned and walked away.

This time, he stayed put.

While I was waiting at the bus stop, my phone vibrated.

A text from Gina.

"The money will be wired this afternoon. I left the house keys with the property manager. Go get your stuff. Do not contact us again."

I stared at that message for a long time.

The bus pulled up.

I climbed aboard and took a seat by the window.

My phone buzzed again.

Her again.

"He is not the kind of person you think he is. You misunderstood him."

I shoved the phone into my pocket.

A genuine smile finally tugged at the corners of my mouth.

Free. I was finally free.

Four cardboard boxes were stacked in the middle of my cramped new apartment.

I ripped the tape off the last box and started shoving my clothes into the rickety wooden wardrobe. The landlord had provided it, but the doors wouldn't shut properly. If I stuffed too many shirts inside, the door would just pop right back open.

My phone sat on the mattress, the screen glowing.

The movers had just left, leaving the small room completely silent.

I sat on the cheap laminate floor, leaning against the edge of the bed. I pulled the green divorce certificate out of my bag, stared at it for a few seconds, and tossed it back inside.

I grabbed my phone.

The red notification dot on my Instagram app was incredibly annoying. I tapped it and scrolled past a few updates until I saw a post from Dave.

It was a photo of him and Gina. They were standing in a dim, expensive looking restaurant. A cake sat on the table between them, a single candle burning brightly. Dave had his hands clasped together, smiling sweetly at the camera.

The caption read: A belated anniversary.

I tossed my phone face down on the bed.

A few seconds later, I picked it back up.

I snapped a photo of my own.

The peeling white walls of the cheap apartment. The cardboard boxes stacked in the corner. My clothes scattered across the floor.

I typed a short caption:

Waking up from the nightmare.

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