As I watched him walk away from me for what I knew would be the last time, I felt something inside me break that I’m not sure will ever fully heal.
I thought I was winning an argument.
I was actually ending a marriage.
The divorce proceedings moved quickly once I signed the papers.
Our assets were limited. The house was rented, our savings modest, our possessions easily divided.
What couldn’t be divided were the relationships we’d built together, the social circle that had embraced us as a couple.
Almost universally, our mutual friends sided with David, though most of them were too polite to say so directly.
Invitations to gatherings stopped coming. Phone calls went unreturned, and I found myself increasingly isolated from the community we’d built together.
My family’s reaction was swift and disappointing.
My mother, who had adored David, was devastated when I told her about the divorce.
