Chapter 1
For twenty years, I’d been the invisible wife,
the forgotten mother. So when I saw a
beautiful cake sitting on the kitchen table this
morning–on my 45th birthday—my heart
fluttered. Maybe they finally remembered.
I reached for the knife, hands trembling, and
sliced into it slowly, ready to taste with the
fork halfway to my mouth when a sharp voice
of my husband cut through the moment.
“What the hell are you doing, Trina?” Jackson
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband
snapped, storming in.
I froze. He marched toward me and ripped
the plate from my hands like I’d committed a
crime. “Why are you eating that?”
I blinked. “I–I thought it was for me.”
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He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “That’s
for Donna. Today is her birthday. Don’t you
know how to ask before assuming? That’s
her favorite–limited edition from downtown.”
I stood there stunned, the knife still in my
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband
hand. “It’s… also my birthday,” I whispered.
จ 51%
For years, I used to love that my best friend
Donna and I shared the same birthday. We’d
celebrate together, laughing over shared
candles and memories. But now, I hated it.
Because everyone remembered Donna.
Everyone celebrated her. Even my own family.
And no one remembered me.
Jackson scoffed. “So what do you want moto
do? You don’t even deserve a celebration for
your birthday.”
0:33 AM Tue 24 Jun
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband.
His words hit harder than they should’ve. I
swallowed the ache, then remembered his
promise from years ago. Maybe, this time he
could give it to me–it’s much more important
than a cake.
“But then, I’m 45 now. And, maybe,” I looked
at him. “Maybe you could finally fulfill your
promise. From when we got married. The trip
to Finland… to see the aurora borealis.”
He laughed. Actually laughed. “A trip to
Finland? And where are you going to get the
money for that? Can you even handle the
cold with how sick vou always are?”
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband
I clenched my fists. I had been sick-
recurring migraines, fatigue, stomach issues.
All stress–related, the doctors said. The
stress of managing a household that didn’t
seem to need me anymore.
“I’ve been sick because I’m always running
after everyone in this house,” I said quietly.
“And no one ever helps.”
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He crossed his arms. “So now you’re blang
me? For what, your weak body? You chose
this life, Trina. You could’ve done something
better–like Donna. She’s out there traveling
the world, living her best life, while you’re
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband
stuck here.”
“But you promised,” I tried again, my voice
cracking.
“I don’t care what I promised! That was too
long ago! You should forget about it,” he
snapped. “And can you shut up already?”
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He looked down at the cake, then at me like I
was a roach that crawled out of the drain.
“You ate the first slice? Then go replace it.”
He grabbed the rest of the cake and shoved
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband
it at me. It hit my chest and crumbled down
my blouse and onto the floor.
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“Don’t even come home unless you find the
same cake,” he said, before storming out of
the house.
I stood there, cake frosting sticking to my
clothes, the air heavy and silent.
C
A moment later, the sound of small feet
pattering broke the silence. Zane, my five-
year–old grandson, was running wild across
the living room again. I watched in slow
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband
motion as he knocked over a glass of water
and sent it spilling all over the floor.
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“Zane! I said stop! Why are you always
ruining things?” My voice cracked like a whip.
He froze and burst into tears.
Seconds later, Tania, my daughter, stormed in.
“What the hell is going on?!”
“He wet the floor! Again! I told him to stop-”
I said, pointing at the mess.
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband.
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“So what?” she snapped. “He’s just a kid. You
clean it. Don’t shout at my son like that.”
“I’m tired, Tania,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I
clean this house every day. I’m not a maid. I’m
your mother.”
Tania scoffed. “Yeah, and you’re also jobless
and staying at home rent–free. So maybe you
should be the maid. Better you than hiring
one.”
Zane clung to her leg, still crying, then looked
at me with wide, angry eyes. “You’re ugly!
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband
ล 51%
And you’re weak! I hate you! You’re not like
Aunt Donna! I want Aunt Donna! You
monster!”
My chest tightened. Even my own grandson
wants Donna. Why am I even here?
Tania smirked. “See? Even my son hates you.
Maybe you should try being more like Aunt
Donna.”
C
She scooped up Zane and walked off, leaving
me standing there in the mess of cake, tears,
and water.
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband
That night, I sat on the edge of the bed, the
ache in my bones deeper than anything a
doctor could diagnose. My hands were
cracked from scrubbing, my back sore from
carrying a family that had stopped seeing me
years ago.
They didn’t remember my birthday. They
didn’t care about my dreams. They only
noticed me when I failed to serve.
I was invisible.
And I’d had enough.
C
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Let’s Divorce, My Husband
I picked up my phone, scrolled through the
contacts, and dialed the travel agency
number I bookmarked all those years ago.
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A woman’s voice answered cheerfully. “Good
evening! How can I help you?”
I inhaled slowly, my voice steady and sure for
the first time in years.
“I’d like to book a travel package to Finland,” I
said. “For one.”
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