After 22 years of marriage, Michael, the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my days with, suddenly decided he wanted to leave. It wasn’t a fight, not an angry argument. It was a quiet, almost clinical declaration. “I want a divorce,” he said, the words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. I stared at him, stunned. “Are you serious, Michael? After all this time?” He looked at me with cold eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, Carol, you can’t pretend you didn’t see this coming. We’ve been living like roommates for years now. There’s nothing left between us. I want to live, to be free, to find someone who excites me, who makes me feel alive… someone who isn’t you, someone who isn’t just fading away. So yes, I’m divorcing you.”
