Chapter 2
By the time Wade came home, it was nine in the evening, and I was flipping through travel guides for road trips across Europe. It was a dream I'd nurtured since my youth but had never realized because I didn't have a driver's license. Later, caring for Imran from kindergarten through college graduation consumed over twenty years of my life. The trip was postponed time and again, eventually fading from conversation, but now the opportunity had finally arrived.
When Wade entered, his demeanor lacked the warmth he reserved for Claire. His behavior was always particularly cool towards me; tonight, massaging his forehead, he requested, "Could you make some chicken soup? I've had a few drinks, and my stomach's acting up."
In the past, if he'd mentioned feeling unwell, I'd have rushed over immediately, full of concern. But now, without even looking up, I replied, "I'm busy. You can handle it yourself."
Wade's face grew stern. "What's gotten into you tonight? Busy with what exactly? We ate out; you didn't even have to cook dinner. And you can't manage to make a bowl of soup?"
I finally paused my scrolling and met Wade's gaze. Despite the gray in his hair, his dedication to fitness made it hard to spot his age—he was past fifty yet still fit. As a prominent lawyer, he was invariably polished and controlled. I always figured his aloofness was inherent, but reality struck hard. His extensive search history laid bare his disregard for me, leaving my heart aching.
Speaking with a strained voice, I said, "Let's divorce, Wade."
Time seemed to halt for a few moments, Wade stopped mid-shirt-removal, staring in shock, patience exhausted. "You're being ridiculous! We're too old for this divorce talk!"
In silence, I handed him the tablet from the coffee table, the search history exposed. More incriminating was the cart of intimate health products on Amazon, destined for Claire's address. Wade's eyes widened with anger; he raised his voice, lecturing me. "Julie, who do you think you are, snooping through my stuff? Don't you understand the importance of privacy?"
A moment later, seemingly aware he'd tipped his hand, he backtracked, "Don't start with this nonsense. Maybe Imran used my account..."
"We've been married for decades, and you've continually shown no trust in me!" At this, I unveiled his deceit further. "Imran bought these items, and they're being shipped to Claire's place? Wade, after all these years of marriage, you think you can con me like a fool?"
Flushed with anger, Wade stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Imran arrived home shortly after, his tone exasperated. "Mom, seriously? You're too old to be kicking Dad out of the house. We were just celebrating Aunt Claire's finalized divorce today. What's the big deal?"
He assumed I was irritated with his father over the celebration, but as his gaze dropped to the tablet, his expression shifted. Imran appeared uneasy and guilty, yet unsurprised. I realized he was in on it too, and disappointment washed over me.
"It's an occasion because I'm divorcing your dad as well."
"What… what?" Imran blinked in disbelief. "You're blowing this out of proportion. You're old enough to let things slide. Plus, I'm bringing my girlfriend home tomorrow. How am I supposed to handle this situation?"
Taking a moment, I truly viewed this son I had singlehandedly raised for the first time. "You'll manage as you would regardless. Your dad and I separating doesn't alter you bringing your girlfriend home."
To my surprise, Imran blurted out, "But of course it changes things! I don't want people saying I come from a broken home. Can't you just let it go, Mom?"
Like his father, he stormed out. I watched the uncanny temper displayed by both father and son, unconcerned about where they were heading. I finished my tasks and then retired for the night.
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