Chapter 3

I rented a cozy one-bedroom apartment in the western part of the city. Though it was no bigger than my old bedroom, it was bathed in sunlight, and outside the window, I could see a small patch of greenery and a few flowering trees.

On the day I signed the lease, I stood alone in the empty apartment for a long time, savoring this space that was entirely my own.

On the moving day, Hector claimed he had urgent company business and slipped out early.

Simon and Hailey insisted on helping me move. The two kids silently made trip after trip with my things, their young faces a mix of confusion and unspoken sadness.

"Mom, are you really leaving?" Hailey asked, tears streaming down her face as the last box of books was loaded into the car. "Can't you please reconsider?"

I hugged her and gently wiped away her tears. "Sweetie, I'm not leaving you. I just need a little space of my own. You'll have your own lives when you go off to college, won't you?"

"But that's different," Hailey choked out between sobs.

Simon stood nearby, his brow tightly furrowed. "Mom, are you going to be okay living all by yourself? Can you cook for yourself? Will you remember to pay the utility bills?" he asked.

His words touched me, but they also left a bitter aftertaste.

To think my children saw me as completely helpless only strengthened my determination.

Smiling gently at my son, I said, "Trust me, I'm far more capable than you give me credit for."

*****

After seeing the kids off, I began settling into my new home.

I got to decide where every single thing went without having to consider anyone else's preferences or habits.

This newfound freedom filled me with an almost childlike delight.

As evening fell, the doorbell suddenly rang.

I opened the door to find Hector standing there, holding a homemade meal.

"I thought you might not have time to cook," he said awkwardly. "I brought your favorite beef stew."

I took the beef stew, at a loss for words.

I couldn't believe it. After twenty-two years of marriage, this was the first time Hector had ever cooked for me.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked, stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter.

Hector shook his head and replied, "No, I just wanted to check if you're missing anything. Sia, I've been doing a lot of thinking these past few days. You were right. I did take everything you did for granted."

I never expected to hear such words from him. For a moment, I was at a loss for how to respond.

But a stubborn look returned to Hector's face as he said, "I still don't understand why you have to get a divorce. We can try to work things out. I can learn to be more attentive to you."

"Hector," I said softly, gently cutting him off, "change doesn't happen overnight. What I need is to step out of this Mrs. Zimmer identity and rediscover myself. That's something I can't achieve within the confines of marriage."

A flicker of hurt flashed in Hector's eyes, but he quickly composed himself. "Alright, I'll explain things to the kids. When does the lawyer want us to sign the divorce papers?"

"Next Monday afternoon," I replied.

He nodded, turned to leave, and then stopped. "By the way, I've set up an independent account for you and transferred some funds into it. At least you won't be too strapped for cash until you find a job."

As I watched Hector walk away, tears suddenly welled up in my eyes.

At that moment, I realized it wasn't that I didn't love him. I just loved the woman I was before even more.

*****

The first morning of my new life, I slept in.

Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, spilling across the bed in a warm, gentle glow.

I lingered in bed, savoring the long-lost luxury of leisure. I didn't need to spring up right away to make breakfast for everyone else.

After getting up, I brewed a cup of coffee and sat at the small table by the window, savoring it slowly.

No one was there to rush me, and no one needed me to drop everything and tend to them. This simple freedom felt like the most extravagant luxury.

That afternoon, I went grocery shopping at the nearby supermarket.

As I pushed my shopping cart down the aisles, it suddenly struck me. For the first time in over twenty years, I was shopping entirely for myself, choosing only what I liked.

I didn't have to consider Hector's hatred of fish or stock up on the kids' favorite snacks. For once, I could pick out whatever I wanted to eat.

This small taste of autonomy gave me an almost rebellious thrill.

Back home, I tried my hand at making a stew, a dish I'd always wanted to make but never had the time for.

Even though it turned out a bit too salty, I devoured it with relish. After all, it was entirely my creation.

That evening, I dug out that box of books and diaries that had been gathering dust for years.

Turning the timeworn pages, I found my 23-year-old self sprang vividly to life before my eyes.

She was passionate about literature and dreamed of one day translating every book Marguerite Duras ever wrote.

I loved writing poetry on rainy days, even though I always knew I wasn't much of a poet.

I once had a crush on a senior in the language department because he complimented my exquisite pronunciation when I recited poetry.

As I traced these words, it felt as if I were touching my long-buried self.

Unbidden, tears slipped down my cheeks, but this time, they were tears of relief.

The next day, I went to the city library and got myself a library card.

In the literature section, I found The Lover by Marguerite Duras, a book I had read in translation during college but had always wanted to read in the original.

As I walked out of the library, cradling the book in my arms, it felt like I was picking up the threads of a life I'd left behind twenty-two years ago.

Life in my cozy little apartment was simple, yet deeply fulfilling.

I started doing yoga every morning, picked up my long-neglected language studies, and even enrolled in an online writing course. These activities, which I had seen as frivolous, became an integral part of my daily routine.

*****

On the weekend, my daughter Hailey came to visit me, bringing along a pot of roses.

"Just something to brighten up your new place," she said with a smile, and the worry in her eyes had mostly faded. "Mom, you look different."

"How so?" I asked curiously.

"I can't quite put my finger on it," Hailey said, tilting her head as she studied me. "You just seem more vibrant, with a sparkle in your eyes."

Her words warmed my heart.

Yes, though I had only been living on my own for a week, I could already feel something deep within me, long dormant, beginning to awaken.

*****

After saying goodbye to my daughter, I got an unexpected call.

My college friend Flora Scott reached out after hearing about my divorce and invited me out for coffee.

Flora was my best friend in college. Over the years, as we both got married and built our careers, we gradually drifted apart.

I would never have guessed that after over two decades, she'd reach out to me again, all because of my divorce.

We met up at a cozy café downtown.

Flora looked almost unchanged, save for a few more laughter lines around her eyes and her short hair now dyed a stylish chestnut brown.

She pulled me into a tight hug the moment we met. "So, I heard you've awakened," she exclaimed. "I always said you were the most talented one in our class. You were never meant to be buried in laundry and grocery lists."

I was surprised by her wording and said, "Awakened? You don't seem the least bit surprised."

Flora stirred her coffee and said with a smile, "Sia, you were a star back in college, the champion of the speech contest, and the literature club leader, remember? We were all shocked when you got married and became a stay-at-home wife."

I sipped my coffee wordlessly as a flood of memories washed over me.

I used to be that vibrant girl, full of passion and dreams. When did I turn into a woman whose only concerns were grocery prices and whether my husband's shirts were ironed?

"Actually," Flora said while leaning in and lowering her voice, "I got divorced too. Last year."

"What?" I exclaimed in shock. "But weren't you and Steven the model couple?"

"On the surface, yes," Flora said with a wry smile. "But the truth is, we'd been living separate lives for years. He was seeing someone else, and I just turned a blind eye until the kids went off to college."

We talked for hours, sharing our stories.

As we talked, I was surprised to learn that Flora was now a foreign literature editor at a renowned publishing house, specializing in introducing foreign literature to domestic readers. It was the very dream I'd cherished in my college days.

"Really?" I asked, barely containing my excitement. "Do you ever need any freelance translators? I've kept up with my translation skills all these years, and I've been brushing up on it again lately."

Flora's eyes lit up. "What perfect timing. We're looking for a translator for a project though the pay isn't generous—"

"I don't care about money," I cut in and said. "I just want to do something worthwhile."

As we were about to part, Flora handed me a stack of materials. "We're launching a new literature series. You can try translating a sample chapter. If the chief editor's happy with it, we can bring you on board officially."

Clutching the stack of materials, I rushed home, eager to dive into work.

When I powered up my laptop, opened a blank document, and let my fingers pause above the keys, I could almost feel the gears of fate starting to turn.