But I still had Jacob. And that was enough to make me get up every morning.
Eventually, after the alimony just wasn’t enough to make ends meet, I took a job at a local women’s health clinic. The hours were flexible, and the work gave me something I hadn’t felt in a long time, purpose. I wasn’t just someone’s mother or someone’s ex-wife.
I was helping women feel seen and heard. And in a strange, unexpected way, it helped me start healing, too.
I started therapy, almost reluctantly. I journaled at night after Jacob went to sleep, pouring every ache and unanswered question on paper. Grief didn’t leave in waves, it leaked out slowly. In the way I folded laundry. In the way I avoided mirrors.
And in the way I couldn’t step foot in our old bedroom without my throat tightening.
Then, one afternoon while I was restocking prenatal vitamins at work, my phone buzzed.
It was Jamie, a friend from Ethan’s office who always had a talent for knowing everything before anyone else.
“Mel! You won’t believe what happened,” she said, barely containing her laughter. “HR finally caught wind of what Ethan did. Leaving his wife after two surrogacies? It got around fast. And they’ve been questioning his character. He’s been dismissed.”
“Wait, seriously?” I asked, frowning. “They actually fired him?”
“Yes, it wrecked his reputation. And once he knew that people were aware of his actions… he started slipping up at work. It was grounds for being fired. And, that’s not even the best part,” Jamie added. “He tried dating that new girl in marketing. You know, the one we laughed at during the Christmas party?”
“Well, she was showing everyone her beach selfies,” I said, almost laughing at the memory.
“Anyway, she blocked him. And she’s telling everyone how toxic he is. Everyone knows it. Oh… and Mel?”
“Yes?” I asked, afraid of what she’d say next.
“He moved back in with his mom. That was the address he gave for his things to be sent over,” Jamie said.
For a second, I didn’t know what to say. The weight of everything he’d put me through sat heavy in my chest. But under it, something else flickered. It wasn’t joy or even revenge.
It was relief.
Jamie messaged me a photo a few weeks later. It was of Ethan at Target, unshaven and wearing a threadbare hoodie. His face looked older and bloated somehow. Even his eyes seemed dull.
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