His Wife Said： “I Don’t Love Him Anymore. If He Disappeared Before My Birthday, That’d Be Perfect

The rain drummed against the bedroom window as he stood frozen in the hallway, his hand hovering over the doororknob. He'd come home early from his business trip, eager to surprise his wife with the news about his potential promotion. The apartment was supposed to be empty. She'd mentioned visiting her sister this week, but voices drifted through the crack in the door, and one of them definitely wasn't female. I can't keep doing this. His wife's voice carried a tremor he'd never heard before. The guilt is eating me alive. A man's voice responded smooth and reassuring. You've told me a hundred times you're going to leave him. When Sarah, when are you actually going to do it? Sarah, his wife of 7 years, the woman who'd promised to stand by him through thick and thin, who'd smiled at their wedding reception while her father gave that touching speech about commitment and loyalty. It's complicated, Derek. the apartments in both our names. We have the joint accounts, the car lease, everything's intertwined. And he's not a bad person. That's what makes it so hard. He pressed himself against the wall, his heart hammering so loudly he was certain they'd hear it. But you don't love him anymore, Derek pressed. You said so yourself. The pause that followed felt like an eternity. He held his breath, part of him desperately hoping she'd deny it, that this was all some terrible misunderstanding. "I don't," Sarah finally whispered. "I haven't for a long time. I just I wish there was an easy way out. If he just disappeared before my birthday next month, that would be perfect. Clean break, no mess, no difficult conversations." The words hit him like a physical blow. His vision blurred and he had to grip the wall to steady himself. Seven years. Seven years of working 80our weeks to build their future, of putting her through graduate school, of believing in their partnership.