Let's Divorce, My Husband

For twenty years, Id been the invisible wife, the forgotten mother. So when I saw a beautiful cake sitting on the kitchen table this morningon my 45th birthdaymy heart fluttered. Maybe they finally remembered.

I reached for the knife, hands trembling, and sliced into it slowly, ready to taste with the fork halfway to my mouth when a sharp voice of my husband cut through the moment.

What the hell are you doing, Trina? Jackson snapped, storming in.

I froze. He marched toward me and ripped the plate from my hands like Id committed a crime. Why are you eating that?

I blinked. II thought it was for me.

He looked at me like Id lost my mind. Thats for Donna. Today is her birthday. Dont you know how to ask before assuming? Thats her favoritelimited edition from downtown.

I stood there stunned, the knife still in my hand. Its also my birthday, I whispered.

For years, I used to love that my best friend Donna and I shared the same birthday. Wed celebrate together, laughing over shared candles and memories. But now, I hated it. Because everyone remembered Donna. Everyone celebrated her. Even my own family. And no one remembered me.

Jackson scoffed. So what do you want me to do? You dont even deserve a celebration for your birthday.

His words hit harder than they shouldve. I swallowed the ache, then remembered his promise from years ago. Maybe, this time he could give it to meits much more important than a cake.

But then, Im 45 now. And, maybe, I looked at him. Maybe you could finally fulfill your promise. From when we got married. The trip to Finland to see the aurora borealis.

He laughed. Actually laughed. A trip to Finland? And where are you going to get the money for that? Can you even handle the cold with how sick you always are?

I clenched my fists. I had been sickrecurring migraines, fatigue, stomach issues. All stress-related, the doctors said. The stress of managing a household that didnt seem to need me anymore.

Ive been sick because Im always running after everyone in this house, I said quietly. And no one ever helps.

He crossed his arms. So now youre blaming me? For what, your weak body? You chose this life, Trina. You couldve done something betterlike Donna. Shes out there traveling the world, living her best life, while youre stuck here.

But you promised, I tried again, my voice cracking.

I dont care what I promised! That was too long ago! You should forget about it, he snapped. And can you shut up already?

He looked down at the cake, then at me like I was a roach that crawled out of the drain.

You ate the first slice? Then go replace it. He grabbed the rest of the cake and shoved it at me. It hit my chest and crumbled down my blouse and onto the floor.

Dont even come home unless you find the same cake, he said, before storming out of the house.

I stood there, cake frosting sticking to my clothes, the air heavy and silent.

A moment later, the sound of small feet pattering broke the silence. Zane, my five-year-old grandson, was running wild across the living room again. I watched in slow motion as he knocked over a glass of water and sent it spilling all over the floor.

Zane! I said stop! Why are you always ruining things? My voice cracked like a whip.

He froze and burst into tears.

Seconds later, Tania, my daughter, stormed in. What the hell is going on?!

He wet the floor! Again! I told him to stop I said, pointing at the mess.

So what? she snapped. Hes just a kid. You clean it. Dont shout at my son like that.

Im tired, Tania, I said, my voice hoarse. I clean this house every day. Im not a maid. Im your mother.

Tania scoffed. Yeah, and youre also jobless and staying at home rent-free. So maybe you should be the maid. Better you than hiring one.

Zane clung to her leg, still crying, then looked at me with wide, angry eyes. Youre ugly! And youre weak! I hate you! Youre not like Aunt Donna! I want Aunt Donna! You monster!

My chest tightened. Even my own grandson wants Donna. Why am I even here?

Tania smirked. See? Even my son hates you. Maybe you should try being more like Aunt Donna.

She scooped up Zane and walked off, leaving me standing there in the mess of cake, tears, and water.

That night, I sat on the edge of the bed, the ache in my bones deeper than anything a doctor could diagnose. My hands were cracked from scrubbing, my back sore from carrying a family that had stopped seeing me years ago.

They didnt remember my birthday. They didnt care about my dreams. They only noticed me when I failed to serve.

I was invisible.

And Id had enough.

I picked up my phone, scrolled through the contacts, and dialed the travel agency number I bookmarked all those years ago.

A womans voice answered cheerfully. Good evening! How can I help you?

I inhaled slowly, my voice steady and sure for the first time in years.

Id like to book a travel package to Finland, I said. For one.

I barely slept that night. My bones ached, my eyes burned, and my back throbbed from the hours Id spent in the kitchen trying to replicate the cake Jackson had demanded. Id searched all over downtown for that limited-edition confection, but it was sold out everywhere. Every store. Every vendor. Nothing.

So I did what I hadn't done in yearsI baked it myself.

Once, long ago, I was a skilled pastry chef. I studied under masters. People used to wait in lines just to buy my cakes. I had dreams. A future. Then I gave it all up. Because Jackson said staying home would be better for us. That wed save money. That hed take care of me. I believed him.

And now I was exhausted, standing in the cold morning light of my kitchen, the cake cooling on the counter, the last thing I had to offer still intact. My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning.

Just as I sank into the worn-out couch to rest, a sudden burning sensation hit my arm. Boiling hot. I screamed and jolted upright, clutching my skin. Milk. Scalding milk.

I turned and saw Zane, my grandson, holding an overturned bottle with milk dripping from the rim. His small mouth twisted into a pout. Feed me! he snapped. Youre the maid!

Still wincing from the burn, I tried to keep calm. Zane, wheres your mom?

Shes busy, he muttered, stomping his foot. I said I want you!

I sighed, biting my tongue. I was starving. Still tired. Still in pain. But I got up anyway and trudged to the kitchen. I didnt want another fight.

And thats when I saw them.

Jackson. Tania. Donna. Even Tanias husband. All of them gathered around the tablelaughing, eating breakfast like some perfect, happy family. Donnas face glowed with makeup, her curls bouncing as she spoke. She wore a pale blue designer dress I recognized from a high-end boutique downtown.

Donna turned to me, fake concern lacing her voice. Oh, Trina, are you okay? You look weak. Maybe you need some rest.

Before I could respond, Jackson chuckled without looking up. Come on, Donna, shes always like that. Always looks like shes dying.

Donna snorted. No one else said a word in my defense.

Then Jackson asked, By the way, wheres the cake I ordered? The one I got for Donna?

Donna blinked. Waityou bought a cake for me?

Jackson puffed out his chest. Yeah. Special limited-edition one. Downtown. Took me two hours to get it.

They waited for me to serve the cake, so I stepped forward, holding the cake Id spent all night baking. My heart pounded. My arms trembled.

I made it, I said softly. You said you wanted that cake, but I couldnt find itso I baked it myself.

I began walking toward the table, trying not to cry. Trying to hold my head high.

But just as I reached the middle of the room, Donna leaned slightly from her chairsweet smile still plastered on her lipsand stuck her foot out.

My heel caught on it. I stumbled. The cake flew from my hands.

Time slowed. I watched, helpless, as the cake spun mid-air and landed face-first on Donna's expensive designer dress.

Gasps filled the room.

Donna shrieked. My dress!

Jackson jumped up from his seat and stormed toward me. What the hell did you do?!

Before I could explain, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it back. My scalp burned.

This dress costs more than your entire wardrobe! he barked. You can't even walk properly now? Youre clumsy, useless, and pathetic!

I didnt mean to

SHUT UP! he roared. Can you even pay for this? Of course not. You can't even take care of yourself. You're just wasting food now?!

I stared at him, stunned. Donna pretended to reach for him. Its okay, Jackson. She must have slipped.

I dont care! Shes so careless because she doesnt know how to earn money like us! Jackson pointed to the floor. Eat it.

I blinked. What?

Eat the damn cake off the floor, he said. Or whatshould we waste more money because of you? Dont forget that you dont contribute even a cent here!

Tania stood, arms crossed, lips curled. This is why you dont have nice things. Youre really pathetic, Mom. I cant believe you gave birth to me because were never alike. If only Donna was my mother.

Donna made a fake whimper. No, dont say that, Tania. Shes a good mother to you, and its fine. Really. We can just get another one.

But I could see the smirk she tried to hide as she leaned close to me and whispered, Well, looks like no one wants you here anymore. I wonder why youre still staying.

I clenched my first. Im not eating that, I whispered, barely able to breathe.

Jackson rolled his eyes and pushed past me. Then clean it up. And dont let me see your face again today.

Lets just go celebrate somewhere else, Tania said as she picked up her purse. Without her.

Agreed, Jackson muttered. Shes not part of this family anyway.

They laughed as they walked out the door.

I dropped to my knees, grabbing handfuls of cake and frosting, trying not to let the tears fallbut they did. They rolled silently down my face and onto the linoleum floor.

All these years. All this time. For what? I used to be someone. Once.

Before Jackson, I was Trina DeVere. Daughter of hotel tycoon Ricardo DeVere. The only heir to an empire. A girl with options. A future. And I gave it all up. For love. For him.

I told my father I didnt want money. I wanted a home. A family. A man whod love me for me.

I rebelled. I left. I cut all ties. And now I was nothing more than a live-in maid. A burden. A shadow in my own house.

I crawled to the corner of the kitchen, pulled out my phone with frosting still on my fingers, and stared at the number I hadnt dialed in twenty years.

My chest tightened. My fingers shook.

But I pressed call.

The line rang once.

Twice.

And then

Hello? a deep, familiar voice answered.

My throat closed for a second. Then I managed to say, Dad its me. Trina. Im sorry. For leaving. For hurting you. For everything. But can I come home?

There was silence.

I dont have anything left here, I whispered. Please just let me come home.

The message came early in the morning.

Dear Ms. Trinidad Dela Torre, this is to confirm your one-way ticket to Finland for June 20. Were excited to have you on board. Your father has arranged everything and is looking forward to your reunion.

For a second, I couldnt even breathe. I stared at the screen, rereading the words, as if they might change. But they didnt. My father had arranged everything. Finally! He accepted me back.

I wrapped my arms around myself, biting back the emotion that surged too fast. Finland. In five days. It felt like the universe had opened a tiny door, one final chance to reclaim the version of me Id buried long ago. I didnt even care that I was sick. Id been sick for yearsjust not always in the body.

Five days. I could do five days.

I can endure this, I whispered to the silence. Just five more.

I told myself Id be kind. Id cook their favorite meals. Id clean, prepare what they needed. I would leave this house in order, like a good little ghostpolite, invisible, forgotten.

That thought almost made me laugh.

I was still standing by the window when the knock came. Sharp, impatient.

I opened the gate to find a delivery guy, his hat too big for his head, holding a medium-sized box.

Package for Dela Torre? he asked, tilting his head.

I nodded.

No sender listed. Just... enjoy your trip? He shrugged and handed it over.

I stood there holding the box for a second, heart thudding like it already knew something I didnt. It wasnt heavy, just firm. Tightly taped. Clean edges.

Inside, I found five glossy travel pouchesfirst-class plane tickets, hotel confirmations, thick winter coats still smelling like new, and a set of itinerary brochures. They were all clearly labeled: Helsinki. Aurora Borealis. December Sky Tour. For five guests.

My knees nearly gave out. Five tickets. The dream Id kept tucked away for so long it was here. Tangible. Cold weather, foreign stars, snow-covered forestsit was all printed there in color.

I clutched one of the coats, brushing my hands across its soft lining. My size.

Had Jackson done this?

Hed lashed out at me beforeGod knows how many times. But afterward, there were always gifts. Expensive apologies wrapped in gold paper and guilt. Maybe this time, the trip was his way of making peace. He knew how long Id wanted to see the Northern Lights.

My chest burned with something fragile and dangerous: hope.

Just then, the front door opened.

Jackson. He paused mid-step when he saw me with the box.

What the hell are you doing? he barked, his eyes narrowing.

I turned to him slowly, still holding one of the tickets. I saw the package. I didnt know you were planning something. But thank you, Jackson. Really. Im not mad anymore. You got the Finland trip I always wanted.

He blinked, then scoffed, walking over to yank the ticket from my hand.

Who the hell said these are for you?

My stomach twisted. But there are five tickets

Theyre for Donna and me. Tania and her family. Business trip.

I tried to smile, tried to make sense of it. Without me? But I could go. Maybe just help with

He cut me off with a laugh so sharp it nearly sliced through me.

Why would you come? What the hell would you do there, Trina? You gonna negotiate contracts with CEOs? You cant even handle an online banking app.

I opened my mouth, but no words came. Just air and pain.

He sneered. We need someone to watch the house, anyway. Since youre not doing anything useful.

And that was it. That was when the final thread inside me snapped.

As I stood there frozen, the stairs creaked.

Whats going on? Tania asked, barely glancing up while looking at her phone.

She saw the tickets, Jackson muttered.

Oh, that? That was my gift to Aunt Donna. I ordered it weeks ago.

Gift. My ears rang.

What about me? Id spent my life giving. And all I got was silence, blame, and a job title no one respected.

And you, my own daughter added, can you get this list done? Were bringing all of this to Finland. Dont screw it up.

She walked out as quickly as she came. And I just stood there, swallowing the bitterness, trying not to cry.

Jacksons phone rang. I moved to leave, but his voice caught my attention.

Hey, baby, he said smoothly. Yeah, she saw it. Dont worry, everythings fine here. Ill keep her busy I cant wait to see the aurora borealis with you.

That was it.

I walked away before he could notice the way I crumpled. My hands shook, my teeth clenched so tightly I felt my jaw ache.

I had never felt so completely replaced in my life.

Not loved. Not even seen.

That night, I didnt cry.

I packed their clothes. Ironed Donnas coats. Crossed off everything on their precious list. But I didnt do it for them.

I did it so they couldnt say I left them with a mess.

The next morning, I dressed differently. A beige blouse, slacks I hadnt worn in years, my old brown handbag. A touch of lipstick. Something about the routine gave me back a sliver of control.

I walked to the lawyers office, alone.

The waiting room was quiet. The receptionist offered me tea. I declined. When it was my turn, I sat across from a young man in a dark suit.

I want to file for divorce, I said. And erase every connection with the Dela Torre family.

The grocery bags in my arms cut into my wrists, and the handle of the dry-cleaning bag kept slipping from my fingers. I balanced the frozen meat in one hand, the pack of imported facial masks Donna insisted on in the other, and the crisp coats I had just picked up from the shop swayed behind me like lifeless passengers. The taxi didnt even wait for a tip.

When I stepped through the front gate, the sun was already lowering. I pushed open the door quietly, out of habit. No one ever noticed when I came and wentbut it still felt better to move in silence.

Inside, Donna was perched on the living room couch, her feet up on a velvet stool, sunglasses on despite the shade, while a nail technician carefully buffed her toenails. Her voice rang like a song I didnt want to hear.

"Well, finally!" she said loudly, not even turning her head. "The maid returns."

I ignored her. I walked straight to the kitchen and placed the bags on the counter, my fingers still tingling from the weight. I began organizing thingslabeling containers, wrapping meat. It helped me think.

Then came her voice again, that mocking sweetness that always made my stomach tighten.

"Hey, whats for dinner, dear maidI mean, my dear best friend?"

I didnt respond.

"Come on," she said, louder. "Are you ignoring me now?"

Still, I stayed quiet. I didnt even look her way. I chopped onions slowly.

"You know," she added, rising from the couch, "we all know how Jackson gets. The moment I say one word about you, hes mad all over again. Dont push me."

I clenched the knife tighter. Her footsteps tapped closer.

"What do you even want, Donna?" I sighed. "Isnt it enough that you have them all?"

All I had were bruises in places no one saw, years of silence, and a home that hadnt felt like mine since the day she moved in with her perfume and lipstick-stained glasses.

"No," she said softly. "Not enough. Because I want you gone."

The air left the room.

I looked at her like she was someone I didnt know. Not the friend I once grew up with. Not the woman I once shared secrets and lip gloss with at sixteen. Just a stranger who had worn my life like a coat and now wanted to burn it too.

I thought you were my best friend, I whispered. But you betrayed me.

And I walked away. I didnt slam the door. I didnt cry. I just climbed the stairs, one step at a time, holding onto the railing like I was pulling myself out of a grave. I entered my room, locked the door, and laid on the bed fully clothed.

I stared at the ceiling for hours.

The light faded slowly. I didn't move.

Until Jackson entered.

He didnt knock. He stepped in and slammed the door behind him.

"Did you say something to Donna?"

I turned my head slowly. "What?"

She doesnt want to go to Finland anymore. She says you made her feel ashamed. That she didnt deserve it. Did you say something to her?

Of course not, I said, sitting up. She was being dramatic. Donna provoked me. I didnt even say a word to her.

Jackson scoffed. Dramatic? Youre the one whos dramatic. Youre jealous

Jealous? My voice was still soft, but it had a heat I hadnt heard in myself in years. Jealous? Jackson, I am your wife. And yet youve been choosing her over me. Over and over again. You left me behind a thousand times in this house like a ghost, and now you expect me to cheer while you take her to see the aurora borealis?

His face twisted with rage. Then came the blow.

It wasnt the first time, but it was the last one Id remember. His hand hit my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My head snapped to the side, the room spun, but I didnt fall.

Dont you dare raise your voice at me! he shouted. God, youre such a bitch.

I closed my eyes.

If I could turn back time, he hissed, I would never have married you, Trina. Never.

The room blurred. Not from tears. Just from sheer weight.

He wasnt done.

I had no choice! Donna didnt want to be tied down then. So I settled for you. But I regretted it every damn day. Youre nothing. Not sexy. Not good in bed. Not successful. Youll always be a shadow of Donna, no matter what you do.

I didnt flinch. I didnt yell back.

I just listened. Maybe for the first time, I really heard him.

He had never loved me. He had chosen me out of desperation. Out of timing. Not out of love. Not out of loyalty. And now, twenty years later, he resented me for it.

He took one last breath and leaned close. If you hurt Donna again, he growled, you will vanish from this house. You hear me?

Then he slammed the door behind him.

Silence returned. I touched my cheek. My skin throbbed, my ears rangbut I didnt cry.

Not this time. Instead, I stood. I walked to the mirror and looked at myselfnot at the bruise, but at the woman behind it. My eyes were tired, yes. But they werent afraid anymore.

I whispered, Ill leave before you can vanish me.

That evening, I stayed in my room. I didnt come down for dinner. I didnt care if the dishes werent washed or the coats were unpacked.

I lit a candle beside my window and watched it flicker until the wind carried it out.

Then my phone buzzed. One message.

"Ms. Trinidad Dela Torre, this is to inform you that your divorce has been finalized and officially recorded. You are now legally free."

I whispered, this time with a voice more solid than it had ever been: Youre going to miss me when Im gone. Every one of you. Ill make sure of it.

The next morning, I opened every drawer, every dusty cabinet, and every forgotten box. One by one, I emptied the shelves. Jewelry boxes, old perfume bottles, wrinkled love letters, receipts from our anniversary dinners that felt staged even back then. Every gift he had ever given mebracelets with half-hearted engravings, heels he bought in the wrong size, cheap perfumes wrapped in ribbon.

Into the bin they went.

And the wedding albumthe one Donna insisted on designing for us with those gold foil titles and scripted captionssat last in my lap. My fingers hovered over it for a second, almost uncertain. But then I remembered the way Jackson had called me nothing. How Donna had smirked with her French-manicured claws, talking about taking my place.

I tossed the album into the metal drum behind the house.

Then I lit the match.

Jackson didnt notice. He was too busy laughing with Donna in the garden, sipping wine like we werent supposed to be broke. I heard them talking about Finland. About fur coats. About how Donna wanted to visit the ice hotel like the influencer she followed.

Everyone else in the house was excited, buzzing like bees high on sugar.

Even Zane, the little boy I once tucked in and fed when no one else would, sneered as I passed him a cup of juice.

You dont belong here, he muttered under his breath.

I didnt even look at him.

I just kept stirring the pot on the stove. I set the plates, folded the napkins, made sure Donnas steak was medium rare, and reheated her espresso exactly how she liked it. Just one last time.

She didnt say thank you.

No one did.

After dinner, Jackson surprised me. He came into the kitchenalone, for onceand handed me a small ice pack. For my back.

His voice was soft. Sickeningly so.

Im sorry about the other day, he said. I just didnt want you acting jealous.

I blinked.

Jealous? That was the word he chose?

He smiled faintly. Dont worry, Ill get you a keychain from Finland when we get back.

A keychain. After everything.

He glanced around. Just make sure we didnt forget anything, okay? Pack the chargers, the coats, Donnas pills, and her backup heels.

I kept my voice low. I made sure you didnt forget anything.

He patted my arm. Good. Well see you when we get back.

Then he turned and walked away, calling out, Come on, Donna! Lets not miss the flight!

She waltzed and held her coat like she was being crowned.

Oh, Trina, she cooed with mock sympathy. Dont worry. Ill bring you something. Maybe even some of those fancy chocolates you like.

Tania scoffed. Dont, Aunt Donna. She doesnt have the money to pay for it anyway.

I faked a smile and ignored them. They all loaded up into the SUV out front. Zane ran past me without a goodbye. Donna threw her suitcase in like a queen heading off to conquer the world. Jackson adjusted his collar and barked a few last-minute instructions I didnt bother to listen to.

And then they were gone.

The second their car turned out of the driveway, something in the air changed.

I breathed again. I didnt waste time.

I pulled out the boxes I had hidden under the bed weeks ago. I packed only what matteredmy documents, old photo albums of my parents, the leather-bound notebook I once kept poems in, a few clothes, my passport, my own dreams. I changed every lock on the doors, reset the passcodes, and closed the shutters.

Then I took out the divorce papers. Stamped. Official. Done.

I placed them carefully on the dining tablewhere he would surely see them first when they returned.

I slipped off my wedding ring and left it on top of the paper.

Beside it, I placed the chocolate cake I had baked that morning.

On the white frosting, I wrote in red icing: "Happy Divorce, My Husband!"

I stepped out of the house with my suitcase and didnt look back. The limousine I had scheduled pulled up to the curb right on time. The driver greeted me with a soft nod. He took my luggage and opened the door.

I slid into the leather seat and watched as the house faded from view.

The mansion I once thought would be a home. Now just another expensive lie built on betrayal.

Halfway to the airport, my phone buzzed.

I stared at the screen. It was him.

Jackson: Dont leave the house. If you leave without telling me, Ill be furious and youll get a punishment from me. You hear me? Be a good dog!

I didnt reply. A second message arrived seconds later.

Jackson: Where is Donnas favorite scarf? Didnt she tell you to pack it? You ruined her mood. Go get it and bring it to us. Were at the airport. Now.

My thumb hovered over the screen. I looked at the messageslike commands from a master to a servant.

And then, finally, I typed: I dont want to bring it to you. I am no longer your maid. And if you regret marrying me, then I too regret wasting my life with you. Goodbye.

I hit send. Then I blocked the number, took the SIM card out, and tossed it from the window.

By the time the car pulled up at the airport terminal, the sky had already begun to turn pink. And there is my new beginning.