He must have returned, right? He can’t really be living in a hotel for so long!

‘What if he’s not at a hotel, but with some girl?’ a poisonous thought creeps into my head. I quickly dismiss it. No, that’s impossible. Matthew doesn’t cheat on me. He said so himself, and I believe him.

But when I step through the apartment door and am met with a grave silence, my fingers start trembling, and tears well up in my throat. I slowly begin to understand that divorce isn’t something ephemeral. Divorce is right there, almost before my eyes.

Tears stream down my face, I can’t stop them. I lean my forehead against the wall in the bedroom and quietly sob. I refuse to accept this reality, it’s impossible. However, the longer I cry, the more intensely I feel my loneliness. I am filled with it, saturated through and through.