Decisions

Snow falls on the other side of the glass while I wait for the speakers to announce the boarding call for the flight to Italy. By now I know it's impossible that he'll come looking for me — and honestly, I doubt he would. He's probably already read the divorce papers and gone straight to his mistress to make her his legal wife. It hurts. God, it hurts down to my soul. But it's for the best. I couldn't keep living inside a marriage where there was never any love on his end. Naive and stupid — my two new favorite adjectives to describe myself.

Let me tell you a bit of my story while I wait to board. My name is Melany Bruce — no, sorry, it's Green. My maiden name. I need to get used to hearing it again. Anyway, my parents died when I was fifteen, and I was placed in the care of their best friend, since they were originally from Italy and my whole life had been in the United States. Marcos Bruce — that was my guardian's name. He passed away a little over two years ago, but before that, he arranged for me to marry his son so I wouldn't be left on my own. Now that I think about it, I laugh, because I actually did love Santiago. But to him, I was a living death sentence. He loved Rosa — a stunning model who'd been his girlfriend in high school but left him to chase her dreams in Europe. Anyway, we got married, and I swear I tried to make the best of it. Today I regret it. He never loved me, and every chance he got to meet up with her, he took.

He owns a hugely successful luxury car company. His bank accounts have more than ten zeros, and he owns more properties than I ever knew about. None of that ever mattered to me, but according to my former mother-in-law, that was all I wanted from him — and she convinced him of it. I could tell you how many times he humiliated me, or how many times I humiliated myself for him, but I'd spend the rest of my life reliving the past. So I'd rather you just know what finally shattered me. Three days ago was our wedding anniversary. Two years of trying to be the perfect wife — learning his favorite meals, wearing gorgeous gowns to his networking events with high-powered executives that I always hated but navigated like I was born for them, all just to make him look good, so everyone would see the woman by his side. A woman he would never see. Two years for nothing, because I was the only one in love. It was never mutual. But maybe I deserved it. Anyway, that night I prepared a dinner, set candles on the table, and put on a provocative dress — just for him. I had to tell him we were going to be parents. I foolishly hoped that would make him see me differently. But he never came home that night. Instead, my phone lit up with photos of him and Rosa at a luxury restaurant, in an obscenely expensive hotel room, and the last one — him asleep in her arms after what was surely an excellent round of sex. It finished breaking me. I ran to the bathroom, vomited everything in my stomach, and cried for what must have been hours until I fell asleep on the floor.

The next morning brought a decision. I wanted the divorce. I'd set him free to be with whoever he wanted, and I'd go to Italy, where my best friend lives, and rebuild my life — whether that meant staying alone with my baby or finding someone who'd value me the way I deserve.

My sister-in-law Magdalena, who always knew the truth and was my best friend, quickly got me the divorce papers on one condition: she had to know where we were going, and I couldn't cut her ties with her future nephew. She promised never to tell her brother the truth and to help me with whatever I needed.

And that's my sad story — though I'm taking two very important things with me. The first is my baby. The second is the clear conscience of knowing that at least I tried.

"Passengers traveling to Milan, Italy, please proceed to the boarding area." The announcer's voice comes through the speakers.

I grab my suitcase and drag it behind me toward the gate that will carry me to a new destination. Ignacio, my friend, is the son of Sicilian mafia bosses who cast him out of their circle for being gay. According to them, he's the family's disgrace. But he took that rejection and built a technology company that's now ranked number two in the world. He got me a position in his company's administration department. He's the only person besides Magda who knows my situation, and he promised me that no one would ever bother me. The truth is, Santiago never knew about him — because he never cared who I associated with.

I wonder if Santiago's already gotten home. And if he has, whether he's found the folder with the divorce papers and the printed photos of his affair with Rosa. Will he feel any kind of remorse for hurting me so badly, or will he be happy to finally be rid of me? No, Mel. Don't think about that now. Keep moving forward. Just like he made his choice, you made yours — even if your chest aches and you're starting to run out of air.

"May I see your documents, miss?" The flight attendant's voice just saved me from crying like a fool.

He's probably happy. Maybe he's already moved her into the house, and they're sleeping together in what used to be our marital bed. Maybe he's already planning the wedding with his mother, and I'm just an ugly, dirty memory. Damn it — tears are pooling in my eyes. I have to stop thinking like this. I need to focus on us and forget him, no matter how much it still hurts.

"Everything looks good, miss. Please follow the attendant to your seat, and have an excellent flight." I nod, because I don't have the strength to open my mouth.

I look back one last time and think: Tonight I'm setting you free from this loveless marriage, and I wish you all the happiness in the world with the woman you could never forget. I'm carrying in my womb the gift I was going to tell you about on our anniversary. I hope she loves you as much as — or more than — I have. The last tear I'll ever shed for him slides slowly down my cheek.