Love and Let Go

I sat on the couch, my fingers clutching the divorce agreement folded into three creases—this was the seventy-eighth time I'd formally asked John Lewis for a divorce. The clock on the wall pointed to two a.m. The living room was lit by a single floor lamp, its warm yellow light making the word 'divorce' sting all the more. The sound of a key turning in the lock broke the silence. I looked up, heart pounding wildly. John's tall figure appeared in the doorway, wearing the dark gray coat I'd bought last year. But there was a strange, sickly sweet perfume on him, clashing sharply with his usual cedarwood scent. What suffocated me even more was the woman trailing behind him. The woman was wearing an oversized white shirt, clearly John's size, the hem barely covering her thighs. She stepped into my pink fluffy slippers in the foyer and swayed as she approached me. "So, you're Nancy Xavier?" She raised an eyebrow, her voice thick with contempt. "Just like John said—plain and boring." I stood up, my fingertips white with tension, eyes flicking past her to John. "John Lewis, who is she?" "Have you thrown your tantrum yet?" John Lewis paused as he took off his coat, his brow tightly furrowed. "It's the middle of the night—can you not start something?" "Start something?" I laughed bitterly, my throat tight, tears threatening to fall. "This is my home, our marital home! You bring another woman here and then accuse me of causing trouble?" "It's my home now, too." The woman instantly hooked her arm around John's, pressing her chest close to him. "Let me introduce myself—I'm Melissa Taylor, John's girlfriend." She deliberately put extra weight on the word "girlfriend," her eyes brimming with undisguised pride. I stared at John Lewis. "You expect me to sleep in the guest room? On what grounds? That bed was the one we chose together when we got married!" "Nancy Xavier, don't push it." John's voice turned colder. "You know your health, yet you keep throwing divorce in my face every day. What do you want from me?" "So this is how you push me?" I raised my voice, pointing at Melissa. "Bringing her home, wearing my slippers, lying in my bed — and you call this 'for my own good' ?" Melissa chuckled softly. "Mrs. Lewis, be realistic and just let it go. John is at the peak of his career; he needs someone who can help him, not a dead weight like you." "Dead weight?" I glanced at John, my voice carrying the last ounce of hope, "Is that what you really think? That I'm just dead weight to you?" His lips twitched, but he remained silent, refusing to deny it. In that moment, I knew our ten years together were utterly finished. "This house is yours." I grabbed the canvas bag from the sofa; inside were only my ID and a few personal items. "Nancy!" John took a step forward, panic edging his voice, "It's so late, it's not safe out there—where are you going?" "Anywhere is better than being stuck here." I pulled the door open, a biting cold wind rushing in. "John Lewis, this is the seventy-ninth time—I'm done. I want a divorce." Melissa Taylor leaned against the doorframe, smirking, "John, don't waste your breath. She's just being dramatic. Maybe a cold night will make her see sense." "Shut up!" John suddenly snapped at her, then softened his voice as he turned to me. "Nancy, go home first. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" "Home?" I glanced back at the open door—Melissa's silhouette glaring in the warm light. "Ever since you started coming home late, smelling like another woman, this place stopped being a home." John's Adam's apple moved as he tried to say something, but Melissa pulled him back, "John, you've got a meeting with the investor tomorrow, don't waste time. If she's smart, she'll come back on her own." I didn't look back; I just walked down the stairs, step by step.