“Has he said anything to you? About being unhappy?”
Diane adjusted her purse strap.
“He’s under a lot of pressure.”
“I know. I’m trying to help.”
“Sometimes helping means giving a person room.”
“Has he said anything to you?”
“I’ve been giving him room for months.”
“Well… he knows he can come home if he needs some space.”
I stared at her.
“He is home.”
She glanced past me as Ryan approached.
“He is home.”
“You know what I mean.”
That night, I asked him about moving in with his mother.
“No. I haven’t decided anything like that.”
“Decided?”
He shut off the faucet. “I’ve handled something badly.”
“Decided?”
“Then, let’s get help. I’ll find a marriage counselor.”
“Can we wait?”
I took a towel and wiped up the water between us.
“I’m running out of ways to ask you to be my husband.”
“Can we wait?”
Later, Lily fought sleep until my shoulder ached.
I lowered myself onto the nursery floor beside her crib and rested my head against the wall.
When Ryan touched my shoulder, I’d drifted off.
“Hey. You’ll hurt your neck.”
For one sleepy second, I leaned into his hand.
I’d drifted off.
He brushed hair from my face. Then his fingers stopped.
“I’ve got her,” he said.
“She’s asleep.”
“You should go to bed.”
“Will you sit with me a minute?”
“I’ve got her.”
He looked at the place beside me.
“Please don’t,” I whispered when he began to straighten.
His eyes filled, but he turned away.
“I can’t right now.”
“Please don’t.”
I went to our bedroom and shut the door gently because Lily was sleeping.
On Sunday, I called my sister from the grocery store parking lot.
“Are you seriously thinking about divorce?” she asked.
“I don’t know what else to do. He loves spending time with Lily. But whenever I walk into the room, he goes quiet.”
I called my sister
“Have you told him how much he’s hurting you?”
“More times than I can count.”
A shopping cart rattled past my window.
“I still love him,” I said. “That’s the embarrassing part.”
“That’s not embarrassing.”
“I still love him.”
“It feels like begging.”
“What has he agreed to do?”
“What?”
“Counseling? A night out? Anything?”
“It feels like begging.”
I watched a man lift a little girl into the cart beside his wife.
“Nothing,” I said.
My sister waited.
I took a breath. “Do you still have the number of the lawyer you used?”
She gave it to me, then asked whether I wanted her to come over.
“Nothing,”
“No. I need to go buy diapers.”
“Hannah.”
“If I go home without them, I’ll have to come out again.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “Call me when you get home.”
“No.”
Inside the store, I reached for Ryan’s usual cereal before remembering he’d stopped eating breakfast with me.
I stood there holding the box while someone waited to get past.
I put it in the cart anyway.
The following week, I stopped waiting downstairs after Lily fell asleep.
I stood there.
On Tuesday, Ryan asked whether we could sit together.
“Are you ready to tell me what’s happening?”
He looked at the floor.
For once, I let him stand there without finding another way to ask.
Eventually, I climbed into bed.
I let him stand there
On Friday, I brought home the divorce papers.
Before going inside, I sat in the driveway. Through the living room window, I could see Ryan lifting Lily above his head.
Leaving would mean missing some of those moments.
Staying meant pretending I wasn’t lonely while I stood right beside them.
I brought home the divorce papers.
I left the papers in my bag during Lily’s bath.
Ryan knelt beside the tub, making her rubber duck sneeze.
She laughed so hard she hiccupped.
For a moment, I stood in the doorway and let myself watch them.
I left the papers in my bag
Then Ryan noticed me. He lowered the duck.
I went downstairs.
When he joined me, I put the envelope on the kitchen table.
“I spoke to a lawyer.”
“What?”
Ryan noticed me.
“They’re divorce papers.”
“Hannah.”
“I haven’t started this because I stopped loving you.”
