Chapter 1
Eric always complained about my weight.
Over the four years we were married, he'd said it more than a hundred times.
"Look at you," he'd say. "Ever since you had the baby, you've blown up like a balloon. I'm embarrassed to call you my wife in public."
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the woman with a sallow face and a waistline of 38 inches. I couldn't even find the words to argue back.
Lily tugged at the hem of my shirt from behind.
"Mommy, pick me up," she said.
I bent down and hoisted her into my arms. At four years old, she was already pretty heavy, and a wave of soreness and numbness shot through my lower back.
My phone buzzed.
Eric texted me: "I left the divorce papers on the table. Go ahead and sign them."
I didn't reply.
The next day at work, everyone in the cafeteria was staring at me.
I knew that look all too well. Pity, with a dash of smug satisfaction at my expense.
Eric was sitting with Monica, their heads almost touching as they scrolled through his phone. Monica was giggling so much her whole body shook, and she made sure her voice was loud enough for the whole room to hear.
"Eric, you're just too funny," Monica gushed.
Eric.
In all four years of marriage, I never once called him "Eric" like that.
I took my tray and slipped into a corner, eating with my head down, hoping no one would notice me.
"Claire," Eric called out.
He walked over, holding a piece of paper.
"Just sign it. Don't drag this out," he said.
The cafeteria went dead silent for a moment.
I set down my fork and looked at him.
"What about Lily?" I asked.
"You'll take her," he said without a second thought. "Monica and I are starting over. We don't need the extra baggage."
Baggage.
His own daughter, just four years old, barely able to write her own name, and he just called her baggage.
"Fine," I said.
I took the papers and gave them a quick look.
The house was his, the car was his, and we'd split the savings, 25,000 each.
He pulled in 7,100 dollars a month, while I barely scraped together 1,500.
That was all he left for me and Lily.
"Let's just get this over with. We're adults," Eric said.
I picked up the pen from the table and signed my name.
Some people in the cafeteria sighed, some shook their heads, and a few took photos and sent them to the group chat.
Monica flashed me a triumphant grin from across the room.
Her smile made it clear. She was telling me: "You lost."
I didn't bother to respond.
As I walked out of the cafeteria with my half-finished meal, Monica's voice rang out behind me. "Eric, let's go check out that riverside penthouse this weekend, the one with 3,444 square feet."
3,444 square feet.
Lily and I were stuck in a tiny 624-square-foot rental.
*****
When I got back to our rental, Lily was sprawled out on the living room floor, coloring.
"Mommy, is Daddy coming to pick me up today?" she asked.
"No, he's not," I said.
"What about tomorrow?"
"He's not coming back, not ever."
Lily looked up at me. Sometimes I swear she understood everything, even at just four years old.
She didn't cry. She just went back to her drawing, head down.
She'd drawn three people, a small figure in the middle, each hand holding one adult on either side.
I folded up the drawing and stuffed it into the bottom of the drawer.
After I finally got her to sleep, I checked my phone, twenty-three unread messages.
Mom: [Claire, I heard you got divorced? That Eric is a real piece of work! Why don't you and Lily come stay with me?]
My bestie, Sophie: [Holy crap, Claire, you actually signed the papers? Are you crazy? That house is half yours!]
Emily, my coworker: [Claire, Monica just posted in the group chat that Eric's taking her to pick out a diamond ring this weekend.]
I read through them one by one.
Then I unlocked my other phone.
No one knew about this phone.
There were 99+ unread messages waiting for me.
[Chef Claire, the brand just approved your last partnership deal. The payment's been sent. Check your balance.]
[Chef Claire, your latest restaurant review video just broke 40 million views! The sponsor wants to extend the deal for another six months.]
[Chef Claire! The first batch of 30,000 collab baking sets sold out instantly! Any idea when the next batch is coming?]
I closed the messages and checked my account balance.
7.72 million dollars.
Eric thought he was being generous, handing me 25,000 dollars.
He had no clue that just tossing out a random video could bring me his entire three years' salary.
But so what?
For those four years I was married to him, I hid my entire career away. He couldn't stand the thought of his wife being seen in public or being more successful than him.
So I played along.
And then he started nagging about my weight, my looks, calling me a frumpy housewife, saying I wasn't good enough for him.