Chapter 3

I blasted it all online: [Hubby's shooting blanks, too scared of whispers, doesn't wanna "rob" me of mommyhood—so we're done.]

I dumped every last screenshot—his family's group-chat shade, the "sweet dreams" texts from my friends—right there on the feed.

Oh, and the video of me ugly-crying into a soggy pillow? That went up too.

The internet crowned us the ultimate Bad Ending.

One comment gut-punched me: [He let you go so you could have the full life you deserve… never realizing the only thing you ever wanted was him by your side.]

I read it, mascara running, and begged everyone to zip it.

I typed: [Please, no doxxing. A guy finding out he's sterile is already a punch in the soul—don't make him bleed in real life.]

Most people thought I was just a hopeless romantic, but some folks tried to talk some sense into me, urging me to take a step back and think things through with a clear mind.

One girl commented: [Girl, think. Kids are magic. Your ex just handed you the keys to the future—don't throw them away.]

The morning we were supposed to sign the papers, I stalled outside the courthouse.

I said, "Jake… what if we try one more clinic? I don't want this."

He snapped, "What the hell, Maeve? You want billboards screaming I'm barren? You need the whole world laughing at me before you're happy?"

I let my voice crack. "After the divorce, I'm done. No second husband, no dragging anyone else down." I knew why he was sweating—his sidepiece was itching to upgrade from mistress to Mrs.

He thought I was clingy. He had no clue I was milking the last drops of clout from this train wreck.

I grabbed his hand like we were still in love. "We were husband and wife once. Let's give the marriage a proper funeral—something to remember."

I'd seen bloggers do "Breakup Bucket Lists." Thought it was genius.

He'd rolled his eyes back then—"Who has time for that crap?"

Now guilt glued his tongue.

I said, "One last goodbye. You owe me that, right?"

I acted all sad and lost, like I was just another girl tangled up in heartbreak.

He caved.

We drove to his hometown.

Jake had always been really close to his grandparents.

After his grandpa passed away, his grandma lived alone in that old house, and honestly, she was pretty lonely most of the time.

When she saw us, she gave me a kind smile, grabbed my hand, and asked, "So, when are you two going to have a baby?"

"Don't pull that DINK nonsense. A child is proof you didn't just pass through life—it's your love in footprints, your blood singing into tomorrow."

She was educated back in the day; every word felt like poetry. That was why she refused to live with her shallow son and his gold-digging wife.

I used to swallow her words whole—if Jake loved me, that was enough.

Whether we had kids or not—that never seemed as important as being able to spend my whole life with someone I truly loved.

Now I just smiled and waited for karma to clock in.

Jake watched me scrub a decade of dust off his childhood home and softened.

He said, "Maeve, you didn't have to."

"It's nothing." I swallowed the urge to slap him. "I know Mary means the world to you. It's just a shame I won't be able to come back after this. A divorced woman on her own… who knows how tough things'll get?

"But don't worry—I'll manage. Even after the divorce, I won't let anyone say I couldn't hold my own.

"I'll make sure the whole world knows you're the best damn husband a girl could ask for."

Jake took a deep breath, determination written all over his face. "Maeve, besides what we own together, I've got a 170 thousand fixed deposit from before we got married. When we get back, it's all yours."

"You can't do that. You'll be on your own—you'll need every penny."

Of course, I was just pretending to hesitate, putting on my best 'reluctant ex-wife' act.