Seven years into my marriage, I met the woman I wanted to protect for the rest of my life.
She was gentle.
Romantic.
Her smile lit up my stagnant life.
Beside her, my wife seemed so much less.
All she ever talked about was our child and the endless petty details of daily life.
So, on our anniversary, I asked for a divorce.
But the tears, the accusations, the desperate struggle I expected never came.
Her hands merely paused over the food she was preparing.
She turned to me calmly.
“Fine.
I have just one condition.”
“Sell this apartment, and I’ll sign.”