Her analysis gave me a clear path forward.

“What documents do I need to prepare?”

“your marriage certificate, social security numbers, evidence of his infidelity, a list of assets, bank statements and so on. You can start gathering these and we can schedule a time to meet and discuss in detail.”

After hanging up, I started preparing the documents. The marriage certificate and our social security cards were in a drawer at home. Kevin had already given me a complete set of evidence of the affair. I could print the bank statements online. Everything was ready.

On my way home from work, my mom called.

“Hannah, I hear Mark is going to Toronto for work.”

“Yes, mom. The company is sending him,” I said calmly.

“Then, what about you? Will you be okay at home alone?” My mom asked, her voice full of worry.

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”

“But 2 years is a long time. Maybe you should go with him.”

“Mom, my job is here. I can’t just quit. Besides, he’s going for work, not to live there permanently. There’s no point in me going.”

My mom sighed. “I guess so. Well, you have to take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, Mom.”

After hanging up, I smiled bitterly. I couldn’t imagine how heartbroken my mom would be if she knew I was about to get divorced. But I had no regrets. It was better to end a loveless marriage than to suffer in it.

When I got home, Mark was packing. A large suitcase was filled with clothes and toiletries.

“Hannah, come see if I’ve missed anything,” he asked, turning to me.

I walked over and glanced inside. “Looks like you have everything.”

“Great.” He zipped up the suitcase. “I leave tomorrow. Let’s go out for a nice dinner tonight. A little farewell celebration.”

“Okay.” I forced a smile.

We went to a fancy restaurant downtown. It was where we had our first date and where we always celebrated our anniversary. Mark ordered red wine, steak, and my favorite tiramisu.

“Hannah, it’s going to be tough on you for these two years,” he said, raising his glass. “When I get back, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

I raised my glass and clinkedked it against his. “I’ll be waiting.”

The wine was bittersweet, just like our marriage. Sweet on the surface, but bitter underneath.

“Oh, after I leave, if you need money for anything, just take it from the joint account,” Mark said. “I left plenty in there for you.”

I almost burst out laughing. There was barely anything left in that account, and he was telling me he’d left me plenty.

“Okay, I will,” I said, focusing on cutting my steak.

“Hannah.” Mark suddenly grabbed my hand. “I know you’ll be lonely these next two years, but you have to wait for me. We have such a strong relationship. We can get through this.”

I looked into his eyes, which were filled with sincerity. If I hadn’t seen the evidence, I would have actually believed him.

“I’ll wait for you,” I said.

We came home late that night. Mark had a lot to drink and spent the entire ride home talking about his plans for the future. He said when he came back, we’d upgrade to a bigger house. He said when he came back, we’d go to the Maldes for a second honeymoon. He said when he came back, we’d have a baby.

Listening to his words, I felt nothing but irony. He would probably fulfill all those promises with Clare. I was just a stepping stone in his life.

The morning I took Mark to the airport, I put on extra makeup, especially dark eyeshadow, to make my crying look more convincing. Mark pulled his suitcase while I held his arm.

“We looked like any other loving couple, playing out a scene of painful farewell.”

“Hannah, don’t cry. Two years will be over before you know it,” Mark said, wiping my tears.

“I know. I just can’t bear to see you go,” I sobbed.

“Silly girl,” he hugged me. “You have to take care of yourself. I’ll call you all the time.”

I buried my head in his chest, my tears soaking his shirt. “It was time to board.”

Mark gave me one last kiss. “Wait for me.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I said with a smile.

I stood there watching him walk through the security gate, his figure getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely. There were so many people saying goodbye, some crying, some laughing. No one knew what the most heartbroken looking woman among them was really thinking.

I wiped my tears and turned away from the gate.

In the cab, I checked the time on my phone. It was 1 to 0 a.m. The courthouse was open, but I wasn’t in a hurry. I had the driver take me home.

Back home, I took a long shower, washing off all my makeup. I changed into a clean, simple navy blue dress that looked dignified and proper. I sat at my vanity, looking at my reflection in the mirror. The naive girl from 5 years ago was gone, replaced by a woman with a determined look in her eyes.

I picked up my phone and sent a text to Kevin. Keep an eye on Mark’s movements after he lands in Toronto. A reply came back quickly. Understood.

Next, I texted the lawyer. Miss Davis, I’ll be at your office at 2 p.m. today. She replied, “Sounds good. See you then.”

With everything arranged, I grabbed my purse. Inside were all the necessary documents: Our marriage certificate, my ID, bank cards, and the investigation report from Kevin.

At 11:00 a.m. sharp, I left the house. The courthouse wasn’t far, about a 20-minute walk. I decided to walk, a final stroll to mark the end of this chapter of my life. The streets were busy. Everyone caught up in their own lives. No one noticed a woman walking towards the courthouse to end her 5-year marriage.

The courthouse lobby was relatively quiet. I went to the information desk.

“Excuse me, I’d like to file for divorce.”

The clerk looked up at me. “Is this a contested or uncontested divorce?”

“Contested,” I said.

“Then you’ll need to file a petition with the court first. Once you have a judgment, you can finalize the paperwork here,” she explained.

I paused. “I thought I could just file it here directly. What materials do I need to file with the court?”

The clerk handed me a checklist. “Just follow the requirements on this list.”

I took the list and glanced at it. I had everything I needed. “Thank you.”

I turned and left the building. It seemed I had oversimplified things. Divorce wasn’t just a matter of saying you wanted one. It was a legal process.

I took out my phone and called my lawyer. “Miss Davis, I just went to the courthouse. They said I need to file a petition first.”

“That’s correct. Because your husband is now out of the country, you can’t file for an uncontested divorce. It has to go through the litigation process,” Miss Davis said. “Come to my office this afternoon and we’ll go over the strategy.”

“Okay.”

After hanging up, I stood outside the courthouse watching people come and go. Some were beaming coming to get a marriage license. Others looked miserable, coming to finalize a divorce. Marriage is like a fortress. I thought people outside want to get in and people inside want to get out.

At 2 p.m., I was in Miss Davis’s office. She was a woman in her 40s, sharp and competent. She offered me a seat and a bottle of water.

“Miss Miller, I’ve reviewed the materials you sent over. Your case is a bit complex,” Miss Davis said. “First, your husband is now abroad, which will make serving him with the papers more complicated. Second, regarding the division of assets, we need to investigate the property he purchased overseas.”

“I understand.” I nodded. “How long will it likely take?”

“If things go smoothly, about 6 months. If he’s uncooperative, it could take longer.”

“I can wait 6 months. Let’s start the proceedings now,” I said.

“Very well.” Miss Davis produced a document. “This is a draft of the petition. Please review it and see if you have any changes.”

I read it carefully. The petition detailed Mark’s wrongdoings, including his infidelity and the transfer of marital assets. “It’s fine.” I signed my name.

“Then we will file this with the court tomorrow,” Miss Davis said. “also the matter of you transferring the funds from the joint account. It’s best to keep that confidential for now. If he finds out, he might try to take preemptive action.”

“I understand,” I said. “no one knows about it except you.”

Leaving the law firm, I felt a sense of relief. The road to divorce was long, but I had taken the first step.

When I got home, I started packing up Mark’s belongings. His clothes, his books, his photos. Each item was once a part of my reality, but now they only filled me with disgust. I put everything into boxes, planning to ship them to his parents. Let them see what kind of a son they raised.

While I was packing, my phone rang. It was Mark. I took a deep breath and answered.

“Hannah, I’ve landed in Toronto.” Mark’s voice sounded excited.

“Oh, was the flight okay?” I tried to keep my voice normal.

“It was great. The weather here is nice, but the jet lag is tough,” he said. “How was your day? Did you cry a lot?”

“I’m okay.” I said.

“You should get some rest, Hannah. I love you.”

I paused for a few seconds, then said. “Me, too.”

After hanging up, I stared at the call log on my phone and laughed. He said he loved me, but he only loved a naive, gullible woman who would happily hand over her money. He never loved the real me.

The next few days, I went to work as usual and continued clearing out his things at night. I packed up everything of Marks and arranged for it to be shipped. I also rearranged the furniture and took down all our photos together. The apartment slowly transformed into a space that was mine alone. Without his presence, I felt a sense of freedom.

5 days later, Miss Davis called. “Miss Miller. The petition has been filed and accepted by the court.”

“That was fast,” I said, surprised.

“Yes, your documentation was very thorough. So, the process went smoothly,” she said. “Next, the court will issue a summon for your husband. He will be required to respond within a specified time. If he fails to respond, the court can issue a default judgment.”

“Okay, I understand.”

After hanging up, I let out a long breath. Everything was proceeding as planned.

That night, Mark video called me. On the screen, he was in an unfamiliar room with floor toseeiling windows showing a city skyline at night.

“Hannah, look, this is my apartment in Toronto,” he said, panning the phone around. “Nice, right?”

I looked at the stylish apartment and sneered internally. This must be the condo he bought with our money. “It’s very nice,” I said. “Are you living there alone?”

“Yep. A one-bedroom the company arranged for me,” he said with a smile. “It’s a bit empty, though. It would be perfect if you were here with me.”

I almost laughed. He was probably living there with Clare and still putting on this act.

“When you come back, we’ll be together again,” I said.

“Yeah, I’ll miss you.”

After the call ended, I sat on the sofa in a days. The man’s acting skills were incredible. If I hadn’t seen the proof with my own eyes, I might have been fooled for the rest of my life.

A week later, Kevin sent me a new report. It contained photos of Mark and Clare in Toronto. They were grocery shopping together, cooking together, taking walks together. They looked like a newlywed couple. There was also a photo of them at a real estate agency.

Kevin’s note read, “They were looking at a house in Vancouver, planning to take out a mortgage in your husband’s company’s name. I saved all the photos as new evidence.”

When Miss Davis saw them, she said, “With these, we can file a motion to freeze his assets to prevent him from transferring more property.”

“Please do,” I said.

“Don’t worry, Miss Miller,” Miss Davis said. “I will do everything in my power to get you the best possible outcome. Men like your husband need to pay for their actions.”

I nodded. Yes, he needed to pay.

Two weeks later, Mark received the court summons. That night he called me his voice filled with rage.

“Hannah, are you insane? Why did you file for divorce?”

“Because I know about you and Clare,” I said calmly.

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

“What? What are you talking about? I don’t understand.” Mark’s voice was now laced with panic.

“Stop pretending, Mark,” I sneered. “I know you’re not in Toronto for work. You’re living with Clare. I know you used our money to buy a condo there, and I know you never planned on coming back.”

“Hannah, listen to me. Let me explain.”

“No more explanations.” I cut him off. “I filed the papers. I’ll see you in court.”

“How dare you? You transferred the money from the joint account, didn’t you? That’s marital property. You had no right to do that.” Mark finally dropped the act.

“Most of that money was my salary. What’s wrong with me taking it?” I retorted. “And what about you using marital property to buy a house in another country? Isn’t that hiding assets?”