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The Last Time I Loved Him
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Chapter 8
When I opened my eyes, a white ceiling came into view. Theodore was slumped over the side of the bed, eyes closed. It was Theodore who had saved me after all–I hadn’t misheard. This was the second time he’d come to my aid. Why was it that, whenever I was in trouble, it was always Theodore who showed up? Meanwhile, my husband Stephen was nowhere to be found.
I tried to sit up and move my stiff arms, but as soon as I shifted, Theodore woke up.
“Are you okay? Any discomfort?” he asked, his gaze filled with genuine concern and worry–something I’d never seen in Stephen’s eyes.
“I’m fine. I owe you again, Theodore. Thank you.”
He helped me sit up, teasing slightly, “Why not call me brother‘ anymore?”
I smiled, but replied seriously, “Soon, that won’t be the case. Stephen and I are getting
divorced.”
He paused for a moment, then replied with a quiet “Mm,” as if affirming my decision. For a
moment, I thought I saw a faint smile lift the corners of his mouth, and even the tension in
his brow seemed to ease.
After a checkup, the doctor said I could be discharged. The first thing I did was meet with a
lawyer to draft a divorcement. I wanted nothing from Stephen–just the divorce.
Back home, I packed my things. There wasn’t much; after three years, all that belonged to me here was a few items of clothing. I placed the divorce agreement on the coffee table,
along with the house keys and my wedding ring.
While waiting for my flight, the television on the wall played a news report: “Actress Ophelia gave birth to a son yesterday and also announced her new boyfriend, who is…”
As I boarded the plane, I thought Stephen would be happy–he could finally be with the one he truly loved without any barriers. And as for me, I was ready to start a life that truly
belonged to me.
