My Scars, His Loss: Rising After the Divorce

Ever since a dinner with our old classmate Pete, Alex had become obsessed. All he could think about was getting promoted, making tons of cash, and proving himself. "If I hadn't given up my funded lab spot at MIT to Pete back then, he would never have landed that high-paying job at Apple," Alex would snap. "I was better than him in every single class. I’m going to prove that even without a master's degree, I can still run circles around him." So, he started working himself to the bone. He spent every night at client dinners and late-night happy hours, trying to climb the corporate ladder. One morning, at 1:30 AM, the front door finally clicked open. The heavy stench of alcohol immediately filled the living room. He stumbled in, his eyes completely bloodshot and out of focus. I rushed over to support him, guiding him to the couch, and handed him the warm milk I had prepared. "Why did you drink so much again? You're going to ruin your stomach." He frowned deeply, pushing my hand away. "Do you think I drink for fun? I’m doing this to bring home money!" "If I don’t drink with the bosses, how am I supposed to get noticed? How do I get promoted? How do I close deals?" Impatience flashed in his eyes. I didn't know when it started, but he had become so easily annoyed with me. Even when I was just trying to care for him. Still, knowing how stressed he was at work lately, I swallowed my hurt and coaxed him gently. "Just drink some milk first. It’ll make your stomach feel better." "Can you just get off my back for once?!" He shoved me away in frustration. The glass slipped from my hand, shattering on the hardwood floor. Warm milk and broken glass splattered everywhere. He froze, looking slightly guilty. "I... I didn't mean to." Looking at the dark circles under his eyes, I let out a soft sigh. "I’ll clean it up. Go take a shower." He didn't say a word. He just turned and walked into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water started. I carefully picked up the broken glass and grabbed his coat from the couch to take it to the laundry room. But as I reached into his pocket, my fingers brushed against a crumpled napkin. I pulled it out. It was smeared with red lipstick. My mind went completely blank. Right then, his phone buzzed on the counter. I automatically picked it up. A notification popped up on the screen. SnapChat from Marta: You forgot to hug me goodbye today. You owe me one next time. The blank space in my mind suddenly felt like a freezing void. I tried to unlock the phone, only to realize he had changed his password. "Kate! What the hell are you doing?!" Alex rushed out of the bathroom, soaking wet. He snatched the phone out of my hand, his face a mix of panic and rage. "Why are you snooping through my phone?!" He had never kept secrets from me before. His passcode had always been our wedding anniversary. When did he change it? I looked up, trying my best to keep my voice from shaking. "Who is Marta?"

Guilt, panic, and anger flashed through his eyes before settling into defensive rage. "She’s just an assistant to one of my clients! She has a crush on me, okay? But since she works for a client, I can't just brutally reject her." "Can you stop being so paranoid? I have to play nice at these dinners. I'm doing all of this for us!" I took a deep breath, trying to force myself to believe his lies. But a woman who leaves lipstick-stained napkins in his pocket... was she really just an assistant? "Then explain the lipstick napkin in your pocket." He followed my gaze and saw the napkin in my hand. His face turned incredibly pale. "She... she couldn't find a trash can, and her dress didn't have pockets. So I just held onto it for her." It was the most pathetic excuse I had ever heard. But I didn't have the energy to argue. "Our college reunion is the day after tomorrow," I said quietly. "Are we still going?" We had graduated from the same university. Afterward, thanks to my advisor's recommendation, I got a research assistant job at a biotech firm. Alex, however, went into sales and marketing because he thought it was a faster way to make money. He hesitated for a second, then gritted his teeth. "Yes, we're going." "Who knows? Maybe I can turn some old classmates into clients." At the reunion, we ran into a lot of familiar faces. Everyone was laughing and reminiscing about the old days. "Alex was literally the top student in our major. All the professors loved him." "Right? Back then, we all thought Alex would be running a hedge fund on Wall Street by now." "Speaking of which, Alex, where are you working these days?" The smile on Alex’s face froze. "Skyline Technologies." The classmate looked confused. "Skyline? Never heard of it. What do they do?" Alex’s expression darkened with embarrassment. Another classmate saw how awkward things were getting and quickly intervened. "Hey, it's the weekend! No work talk. Let's eat!" For the rest of the night, Alex sat in silence, staring at his plate. As we were leaving, Pete walked up and slipped a business card into Alex’s hand. "Alex, I know how capable you are. If you ever want a referral at Apple, let me know. I can get you an interview." Alex coldly pushed the card back. "I’m not that desperate yet." The truth was, with the recent tech downturn, Alex’s company was struggling and rumors of layoffs were everywhere. But his pride wouldn't let him bow his head to the guy he used to beat in school. Pete sighed and took the card back. On the Uber ride home, Alex stared out the window, his jaw clenched tightly. "It's okay," I whispered, trying to comfort him. "Once the economy gets better, you'll find a much better opportunity." "At least you still have me. And my manager, Jennifer, said I have a really good chance of getting promoted in the next review." "Enough!" He suddenly snapped, raising his voice so loud that the driver glanced at us in the rearview mirror. "What is your problem, Kate?! Are you mocking me?!" "So what if you make a little more money than me right now? I’m going to make it big sooner or later! I won’t always be a loser compared to you!" "And let's not forget, you only got that cozy job because your professor handed it to you on a silver platter. At least I got mine on my own merit!" I stared at him, completely shocked. I had no idea he harbored so much resentment. I didn't know he viewed me—and our entire marriage—this way. "I never meant it like that..." Suddenly, his phone screen lit up. Marta’s Snapchat bitmoji flashed. Alex quickly tapped out a reply, his tense shoulders relaxing just a fraction. Then, he looked up at me, cold as ice. "Whether you meant it or not, you know the truth in your heart." With that, he barked at the driver to pull over. He got out of the car and slammed the door, leaving me alone in the backseat. He didn't say where he was going. He didn't say when he'd be back. I stared at the empty seat beside me, feeling completely hollow. The driver looked back at me, his voice gentle and sympathetic. "Are we still going to your address, ma'am?" I blinked back my tears and found my voice. "Yes. Please."

He came home extremely late that night. I didn't ask him any questions, and he didn't start another fight. We acted like it was just a minor, insignificant disagreement. But both of us knew that this argument was like a thorn, buried deep inside our hearts. A few days later, while doing the laundry, I found a flyer for an MBA program in his coat pocket. "Are you thinking about going back to school?" I asked casually. He snatched the flyer from my hand, his face flushing with embarrassment, and ripped it to shreds before throwing it in the trash. "It was just trash some street recruiter handed me." "If you want to get your master's, I'll support you," I said gently. Like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, he yelled, "It's just a stupid piece of paper! I don't need it!" After that, we couldn't even have a normal conversation. It was either sharp sarcasm or icy silence. He continued to come home late, sometimes smelling faintly of expensive women's perfume. His phone never left his hand. Sometimes, he would stare at it and smile so warmly—a smile he hadn't given me in years. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. Catching him smiling at his phone again, I asked point-blank, "Are you seeing someone else?" His smile vanished, twisting into an ugly scowl. "Kate, are you insane?!" "Just because I've been busy for a few days, you think I'm cheating on you?!" His eyes swept over my clothes, and his anger flared even hotter. "And what’s with you wearing that scoop-neck top today? Are you doing this on purpose?" "You're just trying to remind me of those ugly scars on your neck, aren't you? Trying to guilt-trip me into staying, reminding me that I 'owe' you my life!" "Kate, I gave up a career in New York just to stay in this dead-end town with you. My entire future was ruined because of you! What more do you want?!" "If I knew you'd turn into this, I wish that lab explosion had just killed you back then!" The words echoed in the quiet living room. We both froze. Even Alex realized he had gone too far. He panicked, grabbed his car keys, and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled. I shivered. I didn't know if I was shaking from the loud noise, or from the absolute ice that had just settled into my chest. My scars were hideous. They stretched from my neck, down my shoulder, and covered my entire upper arm. They were bumpy, red, and twisted. During our senior year of college, I was helping Alex with his graduation project in the chemistry lab. But he rushed the procedure, causing a highly volatile chemical reaction to explode. In that split second, I saw him freeze in terror. Without thinking, I threw my weight into him, shoving him out of the blast zone. My own upper body took the brunt of the fire. That was how I got these terrifying scars. For a twenty-two-year-old girl, it was the end of the world. It meant enduring whispered comments, stares on the street, and the fear of never being loved. I used to cry myself to sleep every single night in the hospital. While I was recovering, Alex received a prestigious fellowship offer in New York. But he turned it down. He told me he wanted to stay and take care of me. He said he couldn't leave me alone, and the moment I was discharged, he proposed. "Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me," he had whispered. I believed him. I thought his love was pure. I never could have guessed that four years later, I would hear his real thoughts. All this time, he felt trapped. He saw me as a parasite demanding payback, the villain who ruined his bright future. Our entire marriage was built on a foundation of guilt and resentment. Slowly, I reached up and ran my fingers over the rough, uneven skin of my shoulder. Because of the summer heat, I had simply worn a comfortable tank top at home. I wasn't trying to guilt-trip him. I had just forgotten to hide my scars. And it had disgusted him.

Alex texted me saying we both needed some "space." Kate: Where are you staying if you're not coming home? Alex: None of your business. Our chat history ended on that freezing note. I didn't text him again. I didn't ask where he was. Until his birthday. I dialed his number. "What?" he answered, his voice impatient. I swallowed my pride and kept my voice soft. "It's your birthday. Come home for dinner." He quieted down for a long moment. "Fine. I'll be there." We had made a pact when we first started dating: no matter what, we would always spend our birthdays together. But by 9:00 PM, the seat across from me was still empty. The food had gone completely cold. I called him again. "When are you coming home?" The background of the call was incredibly loud. Music was blasting, and then, I heard a girl's sweet, giggling voice. "Alex! Come on, hurry up and blow out the candles!" My eyes slowly drifted to the beautiful cake sitting on our dining table. The box wasn't even opened yet. The candles were still sealed in plastic. Alex covered the phone's microphone, and the noise grew slightly fainter as he walked away. "I'll be home soon. Stop calling me, I'm busy!" He hung up. I slowly set my phone down. My gaze landed on the drawer beside the door. Inside lay the divorce papers I had drafted days ago. At 11:00 PM, the door finally opened. Alex walked in looking slightly guilty. He tried to offer a peace offering. "My coworkers insisted on throwing me a party. You know how it is, I have to network if I want to survive in that place. I couldn't say no." I smiled, a tiny, empty smile. "Okay." Seeing that I wasn't going to yell, he let out a huge sigh of relief. He eagerly opened the cake box and started placing the candles on it. Through the flickering candlelight, Alex looked at me with a soft smile. "Kate, sing me Happy Birthday?" I stared at the faint smudge of pink lipstick on the inner collar of his shirt. My smile vanished completely. "Alex, as of today, we've been together for six years." "Yeah? What about it?" As the candles began to melt, his familiar impatience started to creep back in. But I was done. "Let's get a divorce."