Five minutes after signing the d. i. v. o. r. c. e papers, I boarded an overseas flight with my two children.
At almost the exact same time, seven members of my ex-husband’s family crowded into Crestwood Family Clinic, waiting for the ultrasound results of the woman he had chosen over me.
But when the doctor finally spoke, the entire room went quiet. The tip of my pen touched the d.
i. v. o. r. c. e documents at exactly 10:03 a. m. inside a mediator’s office in Bellmere.
I did not cry. There was only silence. The empty kind that comes after years of tension finally end.
Adrian, now officially my ex-husband, barely tried to hide his excitement.
Right in front of me, he called Celeste and smiled. “Yeah, it’s finished,” he said.
“I’m heading over now. Today’s the appointment, right? Relax, Celeste.
Your baby is the future of this family. We’re all coming to meet our son.”
Then he signed the papers and dropped the pen onto the desk as though he could not leave fast enough.
