The conversation that followed was long, painful, and ultimately inconclusive. He denied, deflected, and finally admitted. The affair, the lies, the neglect—all laid bare. « I never wanted to hurt you, » he said, his voice tinged with regret. But the damage was done, and I couldn’t ignore the betrayal.
As weeks passed, I focused on the practicalities, the logistics of untangling our lives. Meetings with lawyers, discussions about finances, the division of assets. Each step was a reminder of the life I had to rebuild. One afternoon, as I sat with my attorney, she handed me a document to sign. « This is the final agreement, » she said, her tone professional yet empathetic. I hesitated, pen in hand, the weight of the decision heavy.
Signing it felt like both an end and a beginning. A release from the pain but also an acknowledgment of the uncertainty ahead. I took a deep breath and signed, the ink drying quickly on the page. My attorney nodded, offering a reassuring smile. « You’re doing the right thing, » she said softly.
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