Her Love Was Just a Game… Until the Divorce Wasn't

My wife, Maeve Sinclair, has a weird fetish. She loves roleplaying as other characters.

In her scripts, I'm always the OG husband who gets abandoned by the heartless wife.

Today, Maeve will be the domineering CEO who's fallen in love with her assistant. Tomorrow, she will be the professor who has the hots for her student.

Every time, she will make me sign a divorce agreement. The next day, she will laugh while ripping it apart.

"Darling, this is just a game."

But when my dad gets into a car accident and requires 200 thousand dollars just to undergo a life-saving surgery, Maeve is playing the role of a broke woman.

"I'm a penniless woman who's gone broke, Neal. I don't have any money for your dad's surgery at all."

I can only watch as my dad breathes his last on the sickbed.

On the day of his funeral, Maeve approaches me with a young and handsome university student clinging to her side.

"Darling, I've fallen in love with my student. Let's get a divorce."

Then, she pulls out a document from her briefcase and passes it to me.

This time, I refuse to wait for her to rip it apart.

A fresh set of divorce papers with Maeve Sinclair's name signed on it was shoved at me.

It was that same game. She was starting it again at Dad's funeral, just after I'd lost my only family.

I looked at her, at the beautiful face.

For the past three years, every time she brought out those papers, I would play along by crying and questioning until she finally laughed, tore the papers to shreds, and coaxed me back.

She called it fun, a way to keep our marriage fresh, and I believed her.

But right now, Dad was lying in his casket.

Before he passed, he held my hand tight and fixed his eyes on the door. He was waiting for Maeve, his daughter-in-law, whom he'd always treated like his own flesh and blood, to show up for one last goodbye.

But she never came.

Standing before him, I gave him a farewell kiss before turning around to take the pen from Maeve.

Instead of crying or screaming, I signed my name, letter by letter, under her watchful eyes.

"Done."

Maeve froze.

The breakdown she expected never happened. Instead, I stood before her, looking eerily calm.

"Nolan Woodward, what are you playing at now?" she asked, frowning in annoyance.

The young man beside her, Zane Kirk, sensed the shift in the air. He tightened his grip on her arms and said, "Maeve, do you think he's just too mad?"

I ignored them, folded my copy of the signed agreement, and shoved it into my bag.

Then, I looked her straight in the eyes and said, word for word, "Maeve, the game's over."

…

The next day, I went to the courthouse, where I submitted the divorce petition along with the signed divorce papers.

The clerk looked over the papers,