Amber told Brittany to start divorce proceedings quickly. full story below ๐๐๐
The silence in the sun-drenched kitchen was thick enough to choke on. Brittany stood frozen, the ceramic coffee mug trembling in her hand, threatening to spill its lukewarm contents. Across the countertop, Amber’s face was a study in controlled intensity, her usually warm brown eyes like chips of obsidian.
"Start the divorce proceedings, Brittany," Amber repeated, the words clipped and precise, like she was reciting a legal decree.
Brittany’s breath hitched. "Amber, what are you saying? What is this? We haven't even talked about any of this."
"We have talked about it, Brittany. Every simmering argument, every passive-aggressive comment, every silent dinner. That was the conversation. I just hadn't put a name to it yet." Amber pushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, a nervous habit Brittany had always found endearing. Now, it felt like a calculated gesture, a wall going up brick by slow brick.
"But...why? Just like that?" Brittany set the mug down with a clatter, ignoring the splash that stained the pristine white countertop. The house, usually a sanctuary of shared laughter and home-cooked meals, now felt vast and echoing, a monument to their failing marriage.
"Quickly, Brittany. That's the key. The quicker we do this, the cleaner it will be. Less messy. Less painful." Amber's voice softened ever so slightly, a flicker of the woman Brittany had fallen deeply in love with peeking through the steely facade.
"Less painful for who, Amber? Because right now, it feels like you're ripping my heart out with rusty pliers." Brittany felt tears prick her eyes, hot and unwelcome. She hadn't cried in front of Amber in months. She'd learned that vulnerability only seemed to irritate her these days.
"Don't do that, Brittany. Don't play the victim." Amber's eyes narrowed again. "Look, I'm not going to list all the reasons this isn't working. They're obvious. We've drifted. We want different things. We're not happy."
"Start the divorce proceedings, Brittany," Amber repeated, the words clipped and precise, like she was reciting a legal decree.
Brittany’s breath hitched. "Amber, what are you saying? What is this? We haven't even talked about any of this."
"We have talked about it, Brittany. Every simmering argument, every passive-aggressive comment, every silent dinner. That was the conversation. I just hadn't put a name to it yet." Amber pushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, a nervous habit Brittany had always found endearing. Now, it felt like a calculated gesture, a wall going up brick by slow brick.
"But...why? Just like that?" Brittany set the mug down with a clatter, ignoring the splash that stained the pristine white countertop. The house, usually a sanctuary of shared laughter and home-cooked meals, now felt vast and echoing, a monument to their failing marriage.
"Quickly, Brittany. That's the key. The quicker we do this, the cleaner it will be. Less messy. Less painful." Amber's voice softened ever so slightly, a flicker of the woman Brittany had fallen deeply in love with peeking through the steely facade.
"Less painful for who, Amber? Because right now, it feels like you're ripping my heart out with rusty pliers." Brittany felt tears prick her eyes, hot and unwelcome. She hadn't cried in front of Amber in months. She'd learned that vulnerability only seemed to irritate her these days.
"Don't do that, Brittany. Don't play the victim." Amber's eyes narrowed again. "Look, I'm not going to list all the reasons this isn't working. They're obvious. We've drifted. We want different things. We're not happy."
But we could be! We could try! Couples go through rough patches. We could go to therapy..." The words tumbled out of Brittany, desperate and pleading.
Amber shook her head, her jaw tight. "Therapy won't change the fact that I'm not in love with you anymore, Brittany. And frankly, I think you deserve someone who is."
That was the blow that finally landed. Brittany slumped against the counter, the fight draining out of her. She knew, deep down, that Amber was right. The spark had faded. The joy had evaporated. They were living parallel lives under the same roof, two strangers sharing a bed. But hearing it out loud, so clinically, so definitively, felt like a death knell.
"Why quickly, though?" Brittany managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper. "Is there someone else?"
Amber flinched, but her gaze didn't waver. "That's not important. What's important is that we get this done. Now. The house...the finances...it's all just going to get more complicated the longer we wait."
Brittany stared at her, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind her words. Was there someone else? Was that the reason for the urgency? She saw the weariness etched on Amber's face, the suppressed emotion swirling in her eyes. She knew this wasn't easy for her either.
"Okay," Brittany said, the word tasting like ashes in her mouth. "Okay, Amber. I'll start the divorce proceedings. But I want to know the truth. Is there someone else?"
Amber remained silent for a long moment, the weight of her confession pressing down on the kitchen. Finally, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"Yes, Brittany," she whispered. "There is."
The remaining shards of Brittany's heart shattered into dust. The sun, streaming through the kitchen window, suddenly felt cold and distant. The coffee mug, now forgotten, sat on the counter, a silent testament to the bitter end of a love story. Brittany knew, with a chilling certainty, that her life was about to be irrevocably, painfully, different. And it was all starting, now, because Amber had told her to start the divorce proceedings quickly. Very quickly.
Amber shook her head, her jaw tight. "Therapy won't change the fact that I'm not in love with you anymore, Brittany. And frankly, I think you deserve someone who is."
That was the blow that finally landed. Brittany slumped against the counter, the fight draining out of her. She knew, deep down, that Amber was right. The spark had faded. The joy had evaporated. They were living parallel lives under the same roof, two strangers sharing a bed. But hearing it out loud, so clinically, so definitively, felt like a death knell.
"Why quickly, though?" Brittany managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper. "Is there someone else?"
Amber flinched, but her gaze didn't waver. "That's not important. What's important is that we get this done. Now. The house...the finances...it's all just going to get more complicated the longer we wait."
Brittany stared at her, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind her words. Was there someone else? Was that the reason for the urgency? She saw the weariness etched on Amber's face, the suppressed emotion swirling in her eyes. She knew this wasn't easy for her either.
"Okay," Brittany said, the word tasting like ashes in her mouth. "Okay, Amber. I'll start the divorce proceedings. But I want to know the truth. Is there someone else?"
Amber remained silent for a long moment, the weight of her confession pressing down on the kitchen. Finally, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"Yes, Brittany," she whispered. "There is."
The remaining shards of Brittany's heart shattered into dust. The sun, streaming through the kitchen window, suddenly felt cold and distant. The coffee mug, now forgotten, sat on the counter, a silent testament to the bitter end of a love story. Brittany knew, with a chilling certainty, that her life was about to be irrevocably, painfully, different. And it was all starting, now, because Amber had told her to start the divorce proceedings quickly. Very quickly.
Comments
Post a Comment