I wiped my tears and turned away from the gate. In the cab, I checked the time on my phone; it was 1:00 AM. 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 five 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, Ms. Davis: I’ll be at your office at 2 PM 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 AM 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 five-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. “Ms. 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,” Ms. 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 2:00 PM, I was in Ms. Davis’s office. She was a woman in her 40s, sharp and competent. She offered me a seat and a bottle of water.
“Ms. Miller, I’ve reviewed the materials you sent over. Your case is a bit complex,” Ms. 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 six months. If he’s uncooperative, it could take longer.”
“I can wait six months. Let’s start the proceedings now,” I said.
“Very well.” Ms. 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,” Ms. 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 Mark’s 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.
Five days later, Ms. Davis called. “Ms. 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 summons 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-to-ceiling 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 Claire 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 daze. 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 Claire 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 Ms. 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, Ms. Miller,” Ms. 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 Claire,” 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 Claire. 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’ve 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?”
Mark was silent.
“Hannah, you’ll regret this,” he said menacingly. “What do you think you’re going to get from this divorce? You’ll get nothing.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said and hung up.
After the call, my hands were trembling. Even though I was prepared for this, the actual confrontation was still painful. In the following days, Mark constantly called and messaged me, sometimes begging for forgiveness, sometimes threatening me. I ignored all of it.
I focused all my energy on my work and the lawsuit. Ms. Davis was incredibly professional. She helped me prepare all the evidence: proof of Mark’s affair, proof of his asset transfer, and my salary records for the past five years.
“Ms. Miller, you have a very strong case,” Ms. Davis assured me. “Your husband is clearly at fault and has illegally transferred marital property. The court will almost certainly rule in your favor.”
“Thank you, Ms. Davis.”
“You’re welcome. This is my job,” she said. “Stay strong. This will be over soon.”
I nodded. Yes, I had to be strong. I was no longer the naive girl from five years ago.
A month later, the court hearing took place. Mark did not return to the country. He was represented by a lawyer. The hearing went smoothly. Ms. Davis presented all the evidence to the court.
Mark’s lawyer tried to argue that the photos were doctored and that the property purchase was an investment, but in the face of solid evidence, his arguments were weak. The judge adjourned the court and announced that a verdict would be delivered at a later date.
Walking out of the courtroom, Ms. Davis patted my shoulder. “You did great, Ms. Miller. Now we just wait for the good news.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Davis.”
The day the verdict came was a beautiful, sunny day. Ms. Davis called me.
“Ms. Miller, the judgment is in. The court has ruled in our favor. The divorce is granted. In terms of assets, you are awarded the entire balance of the joint account plus half the value of the property your ex-husband purchased abroad. Furthermore, he is ordered to pay you $75,000 in damages for emotional distress.”
Listening to the news, I began to cry. Not out of joy, but out of relief. I was finally free.
“Thank you, Ms. Davis. Thank you so much,” I said through my tears.
“You’re welcome. You deserve it,” she said. “Now, go live your life. Forget the past and start anew.”
“I will.”
After hanging up, I sat in my office and looked out at the sky. Five years of marriage had come to an end. I thought I would be devastated. But at that moment, all I felt was a profound sense of release.
That night, I went out for dinner with a few good friends.
“Hannah, congratulations on your freedom,” my best friend Sarah toasted.
I raised my glass and clinked it with theirs. “Thank you guys for being with me through all this.”
“That scumbag got what he deserved,” another friend, Emily, said angrily. “After everything you did for him, he betrayed you like that.”
“Let’s let the past be the past,” I said with a smile. “From now on, I’m going to live for myself and not waste any more time on people who aren’t worth it.”
“That’s right,” Sarah said. “Here’s to Hannah’s new life.” We clinked our glasses and drank.
Life after the divorce was different from what I had imagined. I thought I would be sad, crying myself to sleep every night. But in reality, I felt liberated. Without Mark, I no longer had to worry about when he would come home, no longer had to walk on eggshells to please him, no longer had to hand over my entire paycheck.
I redesigned my life. First, I completely redecorated the condo, getting rid of anything that reminded me of Mark. I bought new furniture and painted the walls. The place felt fresh and new, just like my life.
Second, I signed up for a yoga class. I went after work every day. It was great for both my body and my mind. I also learned to cook different cuisines. When Mark was around, I always made the American comfort food he liked. Now, I could make whatever I wanted to eat.
I also started traveling. I packed a bag and went to all the places I had always wanted to see but never had the chance. I met interesting people, heard fascinating stories. I realized the world was so much bigger than my failed marriage, with so many other things worth pursuing.
Six months later, Mark’s mother found me.
“Hannah, can you please forgive Mark? He knows he was wrong,” she said, holding my hand, her eyes red.
I gently pulled my hand away. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Evans, I can’t.”
“But you were married for five years. You had such a deep connection. How can you just end it like this?” she pleaded.
“A relationship can’t be sustained by one person’s effort alone,” I said calmly. “Mark cheated on me. That’s a fact. I can’t forgive him.”
“He was just confused for a moment. He was seduced by that harlot,” she said, agitated. “He’s already broken up with her. He wants to come back to you.”
I laughed coldly. “He broke up with her? Is that because the court ordered him to pay me and now he’s broke?”
Her face paled.
“I know you’re hurting, and I know you pity your son,” I said. “But please try to understand my position. Mark and I are divorced. We are not getting back together. Please don’t come looking for me again.”
With that, I turned and walked away. I could hear her sobbing behind me, but I didn’t look back. I knew I was being cold, but I didn’t regret it. I had given Mark his chance. He was the one who threw it away.
A few months later, I met a man at work named Ben Carter. He was the new manager in the marketing department, a couple of years older than me, mature, stable, and very charming. We got to know each other through a work project. He was very kind to me, often helping me with work-related issues.
One day, he asked me out to dinner.
“Hannah, I heard you’re divorced,” he said straightforwardly.
I was a bit taken aback but nodded. “Yes.”
“Are you seeing anyone now?” he asked, looking directly into my eyes.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then, can I have the chance to ask you out?” he said earnestly. “I know this might be too soon, but I really like you. I like your independence, your strength, your kindness. I want to take care of you, protect you, and give you a warm home.”
I looked into his sincere eyes and felt a stir in my heart. But I still shook my head. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m not ready for a new relationship right now.”
“I understand,” he said. “Then I’ll wait. No matter how long it takes, I’ll wait.”
That night, I went home and sat on my balcony, looking at the stars. Maybe one day I would believe in love again, but for now, I just wanted to love myself.
A year later, the court judgment was enforced. Mark paid the damages and transferred the cash equivalent of his half of the Toronto property to me. With the $650,000 from the joint account, I now had nearly a million dollars in savings. It was more than enough to live a comfortable life.
I used some of the money to open a small coffee shop just downstairs from my building. It wasn’t big, but it was cozy and welcoming. Every morning, I would brew coffee for my customers. In the afternoons, I would sit by the window, read a book, and enjoy the sun. Life became simple and beautiful.
One day, Sarah came to my coffee shop.
“Hannah, you look genuinely happy now,” she said.
“Do I?” I smiled. “I feel it too.”
“Do you ever regret it?” she asked suddenly.
I thought for a moment and shook my head. “No regrets. That marriage brought me a lot of pain, but it also made me grow. I learned to protect myself, to not trust blindly, and most importantly, to love myself.”
“Will you ever trust in love again?”
I looked at the sunlight streaming through the window and smiled. “Yes. But next time, I’ll be more cautious, more rational. I’ll never again give up myself for the sake of love.”