“What are you doing?”

Ken sat at the table, his hands clasped under his chin, staring at the two divorce papers. His eyes showed no sign of panic; he was confident I couldn’t leave him.

I had pursued him since high school, following him to college. We never even had the right to argue because I would always make up with him whenever he treated me coldly.

My heart was in agony, torn between the regret of losing our daughter and the realization that my years of genuine love were wasted.

“It’s exactly what it looks like. I’ve already signed.”

For the first time, I saw a change in his...