It wasn’t dramatic at first — just subtle.
My husband stopped sitting beside me on the couch.
He also started answering texts with his body angled away from mine. When I asked, “Who keeps messaging you this late?” he’d shrug and say, “Work stuff. Don’t start.”
Don’t start.
But I wasn’t trying to start anything. I was trying to hold everything together.
“Work stuff. Don’t start.”
One night, while both babies were finally asleep, Tyler sat across from me and said calmly, “I want a divorce.”
There was baby formula drying on my shirt. I remember that detail more than anything.
I actually laughed because the words didn’t register.
“Stop,” I said. “I’m too tired for jokes.”
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