Chapter 1

Outside the courthouse, I tucked the divorce papers into my bag and looked up at the sky.

The September sun was so bright that it almost hurt, making my eyes sting.

Patrick Evans was still talking beside me, spouting the usual lines like, "If Max ever needs anything, call me," and "We're still friends."

I nodded along, counting in my head. That was three. Two more words, and he'll be touched by his own speech.

"Alright," I cut him off. "Are you done? If so, I need to pick up Max from school."

He paused, clearly surprised by how direct I was.

I wouldn't have been like this before. Back then, I would've played along with his whole "amicable breakup" performance.

I might've even squeezed out a couple of tears to make him feel like the divorce was all his fault.

That way, he'd always feel a little guilty whenever he remembered me. But now, I don't care anymore.

I was thirty-six, married for eight years, and now it was over.

On the day of the divorce, I finally realized one thing: the most useless thing in this world was a woman's tears that only move herself.

*****

"Mom!" Max Reed came running out of the school gate, his backpack bouncing on his back. "Why are you here to pick me up today? Where's Dad?"

"I'll be picking you up from now on," I said, taking his backpack. "Your dad's busy."

"Oh." He looked up at me. "Did you cry?"

"Why would I cry?" I asked.

"People on TV always cry when they get divorced," Max said, all serious. "Grandma says women should have a good cry after getting divorced, otherwise it looks like they don't care at all."

I couldn't help but laugh. "What else did Grandma say?"

"Grandma said I should keep an eye on you, so you don't do anything crazy," Max replied.

"Do I look like I'm about to lose it?" I asked.

Max studied me for a moment, then shook his head. "Nope. You look like you want to eat barbecue."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Every time you want barbecue, your eyes light up," Max said.

I couldn't help but pinch his cheek.

After eight years together, this kid understood me way better than Patrick ever did.

That night, I really did take Max out for barbecue.

The oil was bubbling, and steam was rising. I popped a piece of steak into my mouth. It was perfectly crunchy and chewy, the way I liked it.

My phone rang. It was Mom. "So, it's done?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Did you cry?"

"Nope."

"Good," Mom said, sounding relieved. "Crying's pointless. The Evans family isn't worth it. So, what's your plan now?"

"Just the usual: work, take care of Max, and get on with life," I replied.

"Well..." Mom paused. "Aren't you feeling sad?"

I picked up a piece of chicken and thought for a second. "Mom, do you know what hit me the hardest today?"

"What?" she asked.

"Turns out, divorce doesn't hurt," I said. "The real pain was in all those years leading up to it. Now that it's finally over, I feel relieved."

There was a pause, and then Mom snapped, "You're always so slick with your words. Why weren't you this insightful before?"

"I was too busy playing the good wife to figure things out," I replied.

"Alright," Mom chuckled. "Take your time getting wise. And remember to dress Max warmly. It's getting colder tomorrow."

"Got it," I said.

After I hung up, Max looked at me and asked, "Did Grandma yell at you?"

"Nope, she actually said something nice," I replied.

"What did she say?"

"She said I finally get it."

Max blinked, not really understanding, but he praised me anyway. "Mom, you're awesome."

I looked at Max, who was happily focused on his food, and suddenly felt that breaking up didn't feel so frightening after all.

It turned out life held plenty of possibilities. I didn't have to keep knocking on one closed door. I could turn around and open the next one.