From Housewife To His Worst Ex-Wife

Lily POV

The words hit me like a slap across the face, harder than any of the actual slaps he had given me over the years.

"I want a divorce, Lily. I'm not feeling you anymore. You irritate me. Every part of you irritates me, and I don't love you anymore. I just want to be done with this relationship."

Alex stood there in our living room, his hands in his pockets, looking at me like I was nothing more than a piece of furniture he was tired of seeing. The same mouth that had once whispered sweet promises to me was now delivering the cruelest words I had ever heard.

My heart stopped. Actually stopped. For a moment, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stare at this man I had loved for seven years, married for good seven years.

"What?" The word came out as barely a whisper. "Alex, what are you saying?"

He rolled his eyes, that familiar look of disgust crossing his face. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Lily. You heard me perfectly fine. I'm done. We're done."

"But... but why? What did I do wrong?" My voice was shaking now, and I hated how weak I sounded. "We can work through this. We can go to counseling, we can.."

"Counseling?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think counseling is going to fix how much you annoy me? How you chew too loud, how you leave your hair in the drain, how you cry at every stupid movie? How you're always so... so pathetic?"

Each word was like a knife twisting in my chest. This was the man who had promised to love me through sickness and health, for better or worse. The man who had held me when I cried, who had told me I was beautiful even on my worst days. At least, that's what I thought he had been.

"Alex, please," I begged, tears already starting to fall. "We can fix this. I can change. Tell me what you want me to change, and I'll do it."

His face twisted with something ugly. "There it is. That right there. The begging. The desperation. Do you know how disgusting that is? How can I love someone who has no self-respect?"

I flinched as if he had hit me. Maybe it would have hurt less if he had.

"I have self-respect," I whispered, but even as I said it, I knew it wasn't true. How could I have self-respect when I had let him treat me like this for years?

"No, you don't." He stepped closer, and I instinctively took a step back. "You never have. That's why I picked you up from that pathetic little apartment, remember? You had nothing. You were nothing. And I made you into something."

"I wasn't nothing," I said, but my voice was so quiet I wasn't sure he heard me.

"Yes, you were. You were living paycheck to