“I’m not joking.”
My stomach dropped so fast I had to grip the edge of the couch.
“I want a divorce.”
He promised he’d be a good father, pay child support, and show up.
“I’ll still take care of them,” he said. “I’m not walking away from my kids.”
“I just don’t love you anymore,” he added.
The way he said it was almost gentle, as if he thought that made it kinder.
“You don’t love me,” I repeated. “Or you don’t love the responsibility?”
He didn’t answer that.
“Is there someone else?” I asked.
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