Emily, you and your husband share equal blame for this divorce, the therapist said, her eyes locked onto mine.
Me? No! Hes the one who tore the family apart! I snapped, anger flashing.
Emily, when a marriage ends the fault is split evenlyfiftyfifty. Not ninetyten, not sixtyforty. You simply couldnt build a stable partnership, Dr. Collins replied, his tone calm and certain.
What am I supposed to do? I have two girls. My ex loves them, but I hate him. How do I move forward? I clung to his words, hoping he possessed some magic wand that could set everything right.
First, take a breath, Emily. You cant sprint into chaosyoull break. Who will look after the children? They need a sane mother, not a hysteric one. Are you even thinking about forming new relationships?
Never! Not a chance. I cant be disappointed again.
Dont rush. Youre still young; life stretches ahead. Why did you marry in the first place?
For happiness, I whispered, tears spilling.
Exactly. Everyone craves bliss, yet so many end up divorcing. School teaches us arithmetic, not the art of marriage. The result? Couples rush into vows, then flee in tears. Time slips by, youth fades.
I gave everything to the family. I endured fifteen years of a husband who was all fragrance and no scentpassive, indifferent. Im sick of him. I cant even look at him. Our love is shattered.
I have a proposal, Emily. Are you willing to try an experiment? Dr. Collins smiled mischievously.
What kind of experiment? I leaned in, curiosity sparking.
Youll probably want to date again after a pause. Find a practice boysomeone you can test the waters with, learn the ropes of cohabitation, make it comfortable, he said, eyes glinting.
And where am I supposed to find such a fool? I asked.
You dont have to look. Your practice boy can beyour exhusband.
How does that work?
If youre indifferent to him, if you dont mind him walking away, you can use this as a safeplay. Its a winwin, Emily, he assured.
I decided to try. After all, I had nothing to lose. I didnt miss Peter anymore; let him go.
Peter had become such a nuisance that I packed my daughters, Lucy and Molly, and moved into a flat in Manchester. The court granted the divorce; Peter begged for a second chance, but I burned every bridge.
With no men in sight, I welcomed solitude after fifteen years of marriage. Peter, in a feverish rush, started sending cheap gifts, flowers, even invited me to a spa. His belated attention wore me thin. He still refused to believe it was over.
When I settled into the rented flat, relief flooded me. I felt like Id finally found paradise, soaring above the clouds.
Then my girls snapped me back to reality.
Mom, whats Dads fault? Lucy asked.
I was stunned. How could I explain that there was no future with their father, that his words were empty wind? Life felt cramped, grey, suffocating.
Thats when I returned to Dr. Collins, hoping hed steer me toward the right path.
The experiment began. A month after the split, I called Peter.
Hey, how are you? Want to meet? I have a few things to discuss.
Emily? Of course, whenever you like! Peter practically choked on his excitement.
We met on a park bench. He kept edging closer, hand outstretched, trying to grab my wrist. We talked about nothing at all. No burning questions rose in me. He walked me home, pressed a hot kiss to my cheek, handed Lucy and Molly a small treat.
Inside, I peeked out the window. Peter lingered outside. I waved; he tossed back an airy kiss. Those casual meetups with my ex felt oddly satisfyingno fights, no shattered dishes, just a splash of colour returning to my life.
We saw each other once a month: cafés, the cinema, the park. My days knitted together from simple joys, and I began to imagine weaving a new shared road with Peter.
A year slipped by.
Peter, are we meeting today? I asked, hopeful.
Sorry, Emily, Im swamped. Ill call you when Im free, he said, ending the call abruptly.
That happened three or four times. Anxiety gnawed at me. Had someone else taken his place? Was he seriously involved with another? Jealousy flared; I needed answers.
I dialed him again.
Peter, the girls miss you. Lets take them to the zoo.
Emily, I have a wife in the maternity ward, Peter sighed.
What wife? Are you kidding me? This is a joke? I shouted.
Im not joking, Emily. Were expecting a baby with Lily.
The words hit me like a brick. I could only manage, Goodbye. I wish you cloudless happiness.
