“I Was Ready to Divorce My Wife—Until I Overheard What She Told Her Friends About Me.”
I kept the divorce papers in the glove compartment of my car the night everything changed. They were folded neatly, like a secret I was too afraid to speak aloud. Xeroxed forms stamped with the county seal, my signature inked across the line like a confession I had practiced in my head a thousand times. Signed. Dated. Ready to be filed first thing Monday morning. I even had the speech planned — calm, measured, civilized. “We’ve grown apart,” I would say. “This isn’t working anymore.” No tears. No begging. I’d