Surgery For My Signed DivorceChapter 1

I had spent six months begging my wife, Janet, to go to the championship game with me. It was a pilgrimage, a chance to see my favorite player’s jersey retired, a final goodbye to an era.

But as the final boarding call echoed through the terminal, Janet was nowhere to be found.

I’d called her a dozen times. Every single one went straight to voicemail. Then, the notification popped up—a new post from Toby.

The caption read: “Shoutout to this legend for pulling two all-nighters and still coming out to support me at the Invitational.”

The photo was a punch to the gut. Toby and Janet were at a crowded e-sports arena, their arms wrapped around each other, grinning and throwing peace signs at the camera.

I didn’t hesitate. I powered off my phone, turned my back on the gate, and walked toward the customer service desk to check my bags.

This game was supposed to be a tribute to a legend’s final stand. As it turned out, it was the perfect wake-up call for the end of my marriage.

* * *

I didn’t turn my phone back on until my flight landed back in Chicago five days later.

Five days. Not a single missed call from Janet. Not even a text.

The sky was bruising over O’Hare, a torrential downpour turning the tarmac into a gray blur. I stood at the arrivals curb for twenty minutes, watching the "No Cars Available" spinning wheel on my Uber app. That’s when my phone vibrated. Janet’s name flashed across the screen.

Her voice was clipped, cold. "Where are you? Come pick up Toby and me from the terminal."

I didn’t say anything.

A week ago, I would have been fuming. I would have demanded to know why she blew me off for a kid ten years younger than us. Now? I just didn’t have the breath to waste on her.

"Bennett? Did you lose your tongue?" Janet snapped.

"I’m at the airport entrance," I said quietly.

There was a beat of silence. "What are you doing at the airport?"

"I just got back from the game."

Silence followed. It took her a few seconds to remember—to realize she had promised to be there with me. Before I left, I’d seen the hospital’s internal shift schedule. My heart had skipped a beat when I saw she’d traded several shifts for "personal time." I’d foolishly thought she was clearing her schedule for us.

I never imagined that "personal time" was for Toby’s gaming tournament.

"Where exactly? We’ll find you," she said.

I gave her my location and hung up. Before she could arrive, a driver finally accepted my ride request. The black sedan pulled up just as Janet and Toby appeared through the sliding glass doors.

Janet didn't even look at me. She pulled Toby by the hand and slid into the backseat of the car I had ordered.

"Toby’s exhausted," she said, looking out at me through the open door. "I’m going to drop him off and get him settled. I’ll come back for you in a bit."

Before the door closed, Toby rolled down the window. His smile was thick with a smug, boyish triumph. "Thanks for the ride, Ben. You’re a lifesaver."

I looked at him, feeling absolutely nothing. Just a vast, cold emptiness.

Janet frowned at him, though her hand was already reaching out to smooth his hair. "Don't bother with the thank-yous. Close the window, Toby. If the rain gets in, you’ll start complaining about the damp again."

Her tone was a mock-scolding, the kind mothers use for favored children—or lovers use for their pets. The car was a mid-sized sedan; it could have easily fit three. But in Janet and Toby’s world, there was no room for me.

I stood there, my suitcase at my side, getting soaked under the terminal awning. Eventually, I was the only one left.

By the time the rain let up, Janet still hadn't called. Instead, I saw her Instagram story.

“Taking the kid to his big game. A little wish fulfillment and five days in Vegas.”

It was a carousel of photos. I scrolled through the bright lights and the hotel suites until I hit the last one. My thumb froze. In the photo, Toby and Janet were lounging in a hotel room wearing matching silk pajamas—the exact set I had bought for our anniversary months ago.

She’d told me they were "too much" and "not her style." She’d refused to wear them with me, let alone post them for the world to see.

In seven years of marriage, I had never appeared on her social media. She claimed she liked to "keep her private life private."

Apparently, she just liked to keep me private.

The things I had spent seven years starving for, Toby had been handed on a silver platter. I had spent nearly a decade trying to melt the iceberg that was Janet Miller, only to realize she wasn't frozen at all. She just wasn't melting for me.

I locked my phone and felt a strange, jarring laugh bubble up in my chest. It was the sound of a man finally realizing he’d been running a race that didn't exist.

I dragged my suitcase to the airport Hilton and checked in for the night. Going home now would just be an exercise in humiliation.