“This will put an end to all your problems,” he said sternly and left.
I sank into the sofa, stunned. Dumbfounded.
What’s on this page?
What did I do for this?
Don’t I deserve a good life, a happy relationship and a secure future?
Don’t I deserve joy or some peace of mind at the very least?
Am I asking for too much? I wondered as I sobbed into the pillow.
I woke up to the door-bell.
He is back. Unusually quiet today.
Loosening his tie, he stepped in with a stone face, took off his shoes, and headed to his room
He didn’t have a daily drink.
There were no fights today, no hurl of abuses either.
He ate his dinner quietly, without finding any faults with my cooking.
He was lost in thought and a while later, went straight to sleep without uttering a word.
It’s been three days now, and there was no change in his behavior yet. I began to feel worried.
Did he mean what he said about our divorce?
What do I do now?
Whom should I consult?
Should I start looking for a job now?
Been 5 years since I worked. Who will hire me with this long gap?
What will happen to our kids? Who will they have to stay with?
The future looked so uncertain!
I should not have pushed him hard.
But then. He is so irresponsible.
It’s already 10 AM. He is still in his casuals.
Has he resigned from his job? I could not dare to ask him.
No office today?
I asked him meekly, breaking the 4-day long silence.
On leave. I am meeting a consultant today. he answered gravely.
Should be back by afternoon. Will be back for lunch, he added, walking out
Our last lunch together? I despaired.
Time seemed to have stopped. The clock seemed stuck. Every moment passed heavily.
I prayed as I waited anxiously.
At 0230 PM, the doorbell rang. I knew it was him. With a heavy heart, I opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.
He looked relaxed for a change, with a gentle smile on his face,
“Here, take this,” he said, handing a black folder to me.
“This should solve some of our problems”.
“Sign wherever marked and give it back. Our consultant will complete the rest in a week’s time.”
My heart sank. I took the folder and rushed into the room, locking myself in. Seven years of marriage would end just like that if I signed the divorce papers that he had handed to me. Tired and exhausted, I stopped pretending to be strong and let my tears flow freely.
After about half an hour, I gathered myself, walked up to the table, and picked up my pen to sign the papers.
Reluctantly, I opened the folder.
But I couldn’t believe what I saw in it. I rubbed my eyes and peeked again.
They weren’t divorce papers! They were term insurance and other financial planning documents.
