“Don’t!” Sarah hissed. “Just don’t.”
She grabbed her bag and went to her old room. She pushed the door open and froze in the doorway. Everything was exactly as it had been eight years ago when she’d moved out. The pink wallpaper she had chosen herself. The poster of her favorite band on the wall. The bookshelf. The narrow bed with its floral comforter.
Sarah dropped her bag on the floor and collapsed onto the bed. The pillow smelled of old linens and dust. She buried her face in the fabric and cried—quietly, hopelessly. Through the wall, she could hear muffled sounds. Her mother was in the kitchen, then walked to her own bedroom. Everything fell silent.
Sarah lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts swirled, keeping sleep at bay. She remembered the wedding: the white dress, the bouquet of roses, the first dance. Stephen whispering how much he loved her. And then he disappeared for half an hour. Said he needed to take an important call. She hadn’t thought anything of it. But he was with someone else. Fresh tears began to fall. Sarah cried until she finally drifted off from sheer exhaustion.
She woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and swollen eyes. Elizabeth was already in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. When Sarah walked in, her mother looked up.
“Good morning,” her voice was tense.
“Morning,” Sarah said, walking to the sink for a glass of water.
“Have you calmed down?” her mother asked cautiously.
“Yes,” Sarah took a few sips. “I’m going to file for divorce.”
Elizabeth sighed but said nothing. Sarah got dressed, grabbed her purse with her documents, and left the apartment. She drove to the county courthouse and filed the divorce petition. The clerk who took her papers glanced at them with a bored expression and stamped them.
“You’ll receive a notice with your hearing date,” she said monotonously.
Sarah nodded and walked outside. She took out her phone and dialed Stephen’s number. He answered after the third ring.
“Yeah?” His voice was irritated.
“I filed for divorce,” Sarah said. “We need to discuss dividing the assets.”
A pause. Then Stephen laughed.
“Fine. Let’s meet at the store tomorrow. We can discuss everything calmly.”
“Tomorrow at two PM.”
Sarah hung up without waiting for a reply.
The next day, they met at the store. Stephen was sitting at the desk in the back office, sorting through papers. When Sarah walked in, he looked up and smiled—a forced, fake smile.
“Hi. Have a seat,” he motioned to the chair opposite him.
Sarah sat down, a notepad in front of her.
“Let’s get straight to it,” she began. “We started the store together. We both invested equally. So we split it fifty-fifty.”
“Agreed,” Stephen nodded.
“The house, fifty-fifty.”
“Okay,” Sarah wrote it down. “The cars?”
“We each keep our own,” he suggested.
“Done,” she looked up. “Savings accounts?”
“Fifty-fifty,” Stephen shrugged. “I’m not greedy.”
Sarah frowned. It was all going too smoothly. Stephen was agreeing to everything without a fight. It wasn’t like him.
“Are you sure you agree to all this?” she asked.
“Of course,” he smiled wider. “We’re civilized people. Why start a war?”
Sarah didn’t know then that the war was just beginning. That in a few months, she would be in a courtroom, watching as the best lawyer in the city, hired by Stephen, argued that the entire business belonged to him. That all the savings were the result of his work. That the house was in his name. But on that day, she believed him. She believed he would keep his word. And it was the biggest mistake of her life.
Six months had passed since the court date. Six long months during which Sarah tried to pick up the pieces of her life. The trial had been a brutal blow. Stephen’s lawyer presented documents proving his client had invested the majority of the capital, that the house was registered in Stephen’s name before their marriage, and that all their savings were a result of his efforts. Sarah was left with nothing but her old car and a few boxes of personal belongings. She was now living in her childhood bedroom in her mother’s condo, each day a reminder of her defeat.
“I told you so,” Elizabeth said, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. “I told you that you had a business together, that you shouldn’t take it all the way to a divorce. But you wouldn’t listen to me.”
Sarah was at her old desk, scrolling through job listings on her laptop. She clenched her jaw, trying to ignore her mother’s words.
“You said you had an agreement,” her mother continued, walking into the room. “That you had it all under control. And now what? You’re sitting here with no job and no money.”
“Mom, that’s enough!” Sarah spun around in her chair, her voice so sharp with anger that Elizabeth took a step back. “I am so tired of your lectures. I just need you to understand…”
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