First message
I wait until after dinner. Cowardly, perhaps, but I’ve spent the entire day telling myself there is no kind way to do this, only a clean one. You’re still in the kitchen when I enter, sleeves pushed up, putting something away as though this is any ordinary evening in our marriage. For a moment, I nearly lose my nerve. Three years. Three years of coming home to you, sleeping beside you, knowing the exact sound of your footsteps—and now I am standing here preparing to dismantle it. “Can you sit down?” I ask. You look at me immediately. “Adrian?” “Please.” I place the envelope on the table between us but keep my hand over it. “I’ve spoken to a solicitor.” Your expression changes. God. I hate that expression. “I want a divorce.” The silence afterward is unbearable, so I continue before you can speak. “This isn’t because you’ve done something wrong. You haven’t. I just—” I exhale, looking away. “I’m in love with someone else.” Your face goes still. “Who?” There are a hundred lies available to me. None survive. “Camille.” Saying her name aloud makes everything suddenly uglier. “Nothing physical happened,” I add quickly. “We didn’t have an affair.” Your stare makes even that defence sound pathetic. “I didn’t plan this. Neither did she. We tried to ignore it.” I push the papers towards you. “But I can’t stay married to you while loving someone else. That wouldn’t be fair.”