No emotion.
I remember nodding slowly, as if I were processing something logical instead of devastating.
“Is it because of her?” I asked.
“Yes.”
At least he was honest about that.
The paperwork moved quickly. Faster than I thought possible. By the time I was eight months pregnant, everything was finalized.
Legally, we were strangers.
Emotionally, I was shattered.
The Sentence
The final blow came a week later.
He came by the apartment to collect the last of his things. I watched him move around the space we had once shared, packing up pieces of a life he had already abandoned long before the divorce papers were signed.
I stood by the door, one hand supporting my back, the other resting on my stomach.
“Was it really that easy for you?” I asked.
He paused, then sighed, as if I were the one being unreasonable.
“I couldn’t stay with a woman with a big belly like you.”
Silence followed.
Heavy. Suffocating.
My fingers tightened against the fabric of my dress.
Not because I was ashamed of my body.
But because I had carried his child in it.
And he spoke about it like it was a flaw.
An inconvenience.
Something unattractive.
Something disposable.
I didn’t cry in front of him.
I didn’t give him that.
Instead, I stepped aside and let him walk out.
