For ten years I was his wife in every way except for one thing: our official marriage. When I asked for a signature, he laughed, “It’s just a piece of paper.” The next morning, his smile disappeared.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t beg.

I just nodded and said,

“Good.”

Michael even smiled.

It seemed like I thought the conversation was over.

As always, I’ll be with him.

That the house, the joint bank account, the dog and ten years of memories tied me up forever.

But that night, for the first time, I started thinking about not getting Michael to change his mind.

 

But about what will happen if I stop waiting.

The next morning, Michael went down into the kitchen and saw what he had left on the table.

First he smiled.

And then he read it.

And his face changed immediately.

Because there was no divorce document, no pictures of another man, no threats.

There was only one piece of paper.

And a list of things I planned to do in the next few days.

Michael read it twice.

And then, for the first time in ten years, he looked at me not like a woman who was not going anywhere.