Divorcing My Husband and His Precious First Love

On her birthday, Cecil Gilbert's childhood sweetheart posted to social media.

One like, and they'd hold hands.

Five likes, and they'd kiss.

Ten likes, and she'd sleep with him.

The photo was a man's silhouette showering behind frosted bathroom glass.

I knew that silhouette too well. I hit like, then left a comment:

【Congratulations. After sneaking around like a stray for so long, you've finally gotten your paws on those scraps.】

A few minutes later, my husband called.

"Doris Henson, what's that supposed to mean? Who's a stray? What scraps?"

……

Listening to Cecil sputter, I couldn't help finding it funny.

"Whoever's rattled is the one it fits. I didn't name anyone…"

He choked on his anger, his voice thick with displeasure.

"Doris! Delete that comment and apologize to Lillian Floyd! She's crying because you called her a stray!"

"I threw her a birthday party, and you made the birthday girl cry. Have I got no shame, is that it?"

If I hadn't commented, he'd have thought the whole thing was something to be proud of.

Now Lillian was crying, his heart ached for her, and he'd flipped the whole thing on its head and come demanding I apologize.

In his dreams.

"She's cheating and she posts the out-of-bounds photo on social media. What's that for, if not to get called out?"

Cecil drew a deep breath and explained, impatient.

"I was just at Lillian's birthday. They smeared cake all over me, so I had no choice but to shower!"

"As for the holding hands and the kissing she wrote, that was all a party game. There were plenty of people watching. What is there for you to worry about?"

"Delete the comment and apologize, now. You really don't mind embarrassing yourself, do you!"

I stayed quiet for two seconds. I didn't move.

Lillian deleted the comment herself, and her sobbing carried down the line.

"This is the saddest birthday I've had in my whole life. I don't want to live anymore…"

I acted as if I hadn't heard, and asked Cecil calmly:

"Do you want me to bring you a change of clothes?"

"No need, Lillian's got some here…"

He got halfway through before he realized how that sounded.

"I've got spare clothes in my car."

Except his car was the one I'd taken to the dealership this morning for a cleaning.

There were no spare clothes of his in it.

After I finished, I came home, and he'd gone down to the garage empty-handed and driven off to work.

I didn't call him out, and I didn't press about why Lillian's place had his clothes. I just felt utterly done with it.

I was about to hang up when Cecil suddenly shouted:

"Lillian, stop drinking! I'll have her come apologize to you right now!"

Then he turned cold and ordered me:

"Make some hangover soup and bring it over to apologize to Lillian. She's been chugging bottle after bottle and crying because of that comment of yours, two whole bottles."

I checked the time. Eleven at night. He wanted me to make hangover soup and then take a cab twenty kilometers out to the south side.

"Cecil, what exactly do you take me for?"

It came out of him without a thought.

"My wife! What else?"

"Once you've apologized, you can pick me up and take me home."

I refused, cold.

"I'm busy."

Too busy to make hangover soup for his childhood sweetheart. Too busy to go pick up a man whose eyes and heart were full of nothing but her.

Cecil froze for a beat, then raised his voice.

"You've got time to insult people but no time to come apologize? Fine. If you don't come, I'll sleep at Lillian's tonight and comfort her, and we'll call that your apology!!"

In the past, no matter how furious I was, I'd have gone cursing all the way to the south side to get him.

For one reason only: I was afraid he'd actually spend the night at Lillian's, that something would happen between them, and the marriage would be beyond saving.

But now, I couldn't wait for him not to come home.

That way I wouldn't have to drag myself back and forth, wouldn't be mocked as a shrew by his friends, and wouldn't have to breathe in the smell of liquor on him when he came back, wondering whether it carried a scent that shouldn't be there.