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Liam murmured softly, "It's not your fault…"
He saw me. His face went ghost white. He started trembling violently.
He’d remember that beating for life.
I stared coldly. "I just finalized the title transfer. This house is mine now. Get. Out."
"You have ten minutes to pack. After that, I call the cops."
Emma looked at me deeply, silent. Liam, trembling but trying to be brave, stepped in front of her. "Y-you can't just kick us out! You say it's yours? Even divorced, assets are split…"
His voice faded, losing conviction.
"Forget it." Emma pulled him up. "Let's go, Liam."
"Emma…" Liam started to protest, but trailed off, head down.
On the landing, Emma turned back. Tears streamed down her face. "Brian, I'm sorry. I never meant for this…"
My answer was the door slamming shut behind her.
When the court papers hit Emma's workplace, the reason for our divorce couldn't stay hidden.
Emma was fired.
At mediation, I saw her again. She looked ten years older overnight – streaks of gray at her temples, skin pale, eyes bloodshot and hollow. Utterly broken.
She barely registered anything, needing her name called multiple times. She agreed to every demand I made – full financial forfeiture.
The divorce finalized quickly.
Leaving the courthouse, rain poured down just like that day. Liam rushed up with an umbrella, but Emma dodged his hand, walking straight into the deluge.
Liam chased after her, desperate to shield her, soaking himself completely.
I sold the house. Quit my job. Went back to my hometown for a while.
News of Emma trickled in through mutual friends.
She spiraled. Drunk, chain-smoking, a ghost. Liam dropped out of college to care for her. They lived in a basement apartment.
Liam got caught by his parents when he went out for groceries.
They were farmers, shattered. Sacrificed everything for their college boy, only for him to throw it away on some divorced older woman, playing servant with no future.
Emma got beaten up again, badly. Liam was beside himself. He ran to the roof, threatening to jump if his parents didn't let him have his "love."
But Emma said, "Liam, go with them. I won't be with you."
"If we hadn't… Max wouldn't be dead. I wouldn't have lost my job. I'd still have my family…"
Liam left, heartbroken, with his parents.
Later, I heard Jake tried to step in, comfort Emma. She mocked him. Told him to his face she'd only ever loved me.
Jake quit his job in shame.
Emma vanished. Until six months later, I was volunteering at a food bank. She was in line.
Her back was hunched like an old woman's.
I looked at her worn face, couldn't connect it to the vibrant Emma I'd known.
She got her bag but lingered, hesitating. Finally, her voice, low, almost begging: "Brian… is there any chance?"
"Don't interrupt my work." My voice was flat ice.
I saw Liam again two years later, back in the city for work. At the farmer's market, I saw an older woman arguing fiercely with a vendor over a rutabaga.
Liam trailed behind her, head down, holding the hand of a toddler.
He was only in his twenties but looked older than me – worn out, exhausted.
He saw me. Panic first, then resignation.
"You married?" I asked.
Liam nodded softly. "Yeah. My folks… worried I'd mess up again. Made me marry into her family. That's my mother-in-law." He nodded toward the arguing woman.
The woman overheard, her voice shrill. "College boy chased a married woman for two years! Got dumped! Didn't even finish his degree! Lucky we took pity, let him marry in!"
Liam clamped his mouth shut.
I met his eyes. Saw the deep, deep regret.
I thought of Jake.
All those people standing on their high ground, judging me for being ordinary, boring, for not "stepping aside."
Did they regret their self-righteousness now?
I've never regretted my choices. Through it all, I stayed true to myself. I live for me.
(The End)
