After My Husband Chose the Neighbor Over Me

I lit the last candle at six-thirty. The flame caught and steadied. I stepped back and looked at the table. Roasted chicken with herbs. Garlic mashed potatoes. Green beans with almonds. A small chocolate cake on the counter. Everything Rylan used to say he loved.

I checked my phone. No messages. I texted him an hour ago. *Dinner's ready when you are.* He read it. No reply.

I sat down and waited. The candles burned. The chicken got cold. I didn't move.

At eight-fifteen, the front door opened. Rylan walked in, still in his work shirt, tie loosened. He glanced at the table. His eyes passed over the food, the candles, me. He didn't stop walking.

"Sorry, babe," he said, heading toward the bedroom. "Long day."

I stood up. "I made dinner."

"Yeah, I see that." He pulled his tie off and tossed it on the couch. "Looks nice."

"It's been ready for two hours."

He paused in the doorway, finally looking at me. Not really at me. More like through me. "I said I'm sorry. I got held up."

I waited. He didn't explain. He never explained anymore.

"Are you hungry?" I asked quietly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually, I need to run back out. Mavis had a rough day. I told her I'd drop off some food."

Something cold settled in my chest. "Mavis."

"Yeah. She texted me earlier. She's been sick all day, and she doesn't have anyone to help her out." He said it like it was obvious. Like it was reasonable. "I'll just grab something from the kitchen and—"

"I spent three hours making this dinner."

He stopped. Looked at me again. This time I saw a flash of irritation. "Kennedy, come on. Don't make this a thing. She's sick. I'm being a good neighbor."

"You're being a good neighbor," I repeated slowly.

"Yeah." He turned away, walking toward the kitchen. "I won't be long."

I watched him pull out plastic containers. He started packing up the chicken, the potatoes. He moved quickly, efficiently. Like he'd done this before.

"Rylan."

"What?" He didn't look up.

I wanted to say so many things. I wanted to ask when Mavis became more important than me. I wanted to ask when he stopped seeing me entirely. I wanted to scream.

But I didn't. I just stood there, twisting my wedding ring around my finger.

"Nothing," I whispered.

He snapped the lids on the containers and grabbed his keys. "I'll be back in twenty."

The door closed behind him. I heard his car start. I heard him drive away.

I walked back to the table. The candles were still burning. I blew them out one by one. The smoke curled up and disappeared.

I didn't eat. I put everything away. I washed the dishes. I went to bed alone.

---

The next morning, Rylan came back with breakfast. He walked in smiling, holding a paper bag. "Peace offering," he said, setting it on the counter.

I looked at the bag. I didn't move.

"Come on, don't be mad." He pulled out a wrapped burrito. "I got your favorite."

I unwrapped it slowly. Steak. Peppers. Cheese.

My throat tightened. "Rylan, I'm allergic to beef."

He blinked. "What?"

"I'm allergic to beef. I've been allergic to beef since I was twelve. You know this."

He stared at the burrito. Then at me. "Oh. Shit. I forgot."

I set it down. My hands were shaking. "You forgot."

"It was early. I wasn't thinking." He rubbed his face. "I'll go back and get you something else."

"Don't."

"Kennedy—"

"Just don't."

He sighed, annoyed now. "Fine. Whatever."

He left the bag on the counter and walked away. I stood there, staring at the burrito. Then I saw the receipt sticking out of the bag. I pulled it out.

The timestamp said seven-forty-five a.m. The line items were listed clearly. One steak burrito. One avocado toast with poached eggs and microgreens. Sixteen dollars. Forty-three-minute wait time printed at the bottom.

Avocado toast. Mavis's favorite. She mentioned it once at a neighborhood barbecue. Rylan laughed and said he'd never tried it. She said he should. He said maybe he would.

He stood in line for forty-three minutes. Not for me. For her.

I folded the receipt carefully. I put it in my pocket. I walked to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

Something inside me went very quiet. Very still.

The last flicker of hope I'd been holding onto died.

---

That evening, I found Rylan in the living room, scrolling through his phone. He was smiling at the screen. I didn't need to ask who he was texting.

I stood in the doorway. "We need to talk."

"Mm-hmm." He didn't look up.

"Rylan."

"Yeah, I'm listening."

"I want a divorce."

That got his attention. He looked up, eyebrows raised. Then he laughed. Actually laughed. "What?"

"I want a divorce," I said again, quieter this time.

He set his phone down, still smiling like I'd told a joke. "Kennedy, come on. Don't be dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic."

"Yes, you are." He stood up, walking past me toward the hallway mirror. He smoothed his hair, checked his reflection. "You're upset about breakfast. I get it. I screwed up. But asking for a divorce? That's insane."

"You forgot I'm allergic to beef. You've known me for eight years."

"People forget things." He adjusted his collar, still looking at himself. Not at me. "It's not a big deal."

"You stood in line for forty-three minutes to get Mavis avocado toast."

He froze. Just for a second. Then he turned around, and his face was different. Colder. "Are you seriously jealous of me being nice to a neighbor?"

"You bring her groceries. You fix things in her apartment. You spend more time at her door than you do with me."

"Because she needs help!" His voice rose. "She's alone. She doesn't have anyone. I'm being a decent human being."

"And I don't need help?"

"You?" He laughed again, sharper this time. "You're fine. You're here, in this house, with everything taken care of. You don't work. You don't pay bills. You're just a housewife."

The words hit like a slap.

"You wouldn't last a week without my paycheck," he continued, stepping closer. "You think you can just leave? And go where? Do what? You have nothing, Kennedy. You are nothing without me."

I looked at him. Really looked at him. This man I gave up everything for. This man I loved so much I erased myself to be with him.

He didn't see me at all.

"Sign the papers," I whispered.

He snorted. "There are no papers."

"There will be."

He grabbed his keys off the hall table. "I don't have time for this. I'm going out."

"To Mavis."

He didn't deny it. He just walked out. Slammed the door.

I stood there in the empty hallway. Then I walked to the bedroom. I opened the closet. I knelt down and pulled up the loose floorboard in the back corner. My journal was underneath, wrapped in an old scarf.

I opened it. I wrote:

*I chose this life because I wanted to be loved for myself. But I think the person I was trying to be loved as has disappeared entirely.*

I closed the journal. I put it back. I sat on the floor.

I didn't cry loudly. Tears fell silently down my face while I sat perfectly still.

And I made a decision.