He Made Every Choice for Twenty Years Then I Chose Divorce Novel – Chapter 1 The day we went to look at the house, I showed up two hours late. By the time I got there, my fiancé Ethan Hayes had already signed the purchase agreement. He and my best friend Maya Thompson were hunched over the kitchen island, heads together, arguing about renovations. They bounced from game room to nursery, then got stuck on whether the master bath should have a soaking tub. A middle-aged couple nearby chuckled at them. “You two must be setting up a wedding house, huh? Buddy, let the bride pick the tub.” Ethan cleared his throat, shot a glance at Maya—who went pink—and muttered, “Fine, fine, we’ll put it in.” I stood off to the side, watching them decide every detail of my future home, one back-and-forth at a time. We’d grown up together. Back in high school, they picked the colleges and told me later.
When Ethan and I started dating, they planned every date and every trip and let me know where to show up. Now even the wedding house—I was just supposed to wait for their final word. For years I’d lived as their shadow. Shadows don’t make noise; they just lower their heads and follow. But even a shadow gets tired. One overcast day, it stops dead and refuses to take another step. *** I got back to the office, and my boss Gwen Harwood was still there, nibbling a bagel. She raised an eyebrow. “That was fast.” I fidgeted with my fingers, then blurted out, “Ms. Harwood—that offer to take me to headquarters—is it still on the table?” Her face lit up. “Changed your mind? Great. We leave next month.” I nodded, and the knot that had been stuck in my chest since we set the wedding date finally loosened.
My phone buzzed nonstop. Ethan’s texts flooded in. [Knew you’d be late. Celia, what would you do without me and Maya?] [Good thing we were there—nothing would’ve gotten done.] [Oh, any thoughts on the decor?] My fingers trembled. Before I could reply, another message popped up. [Never mind, forget I asked. Me and Maya will figure it out.] That line burned my eyes until everything blurred. Forget it. Again. I doubt Ethan even remembered how many times he’d said that to me. After senior year, he held my hand and asked where I wanted to go to college. My eyes lit up—I was about to say somewhere near the ocean. But he cut in, “Forget it, you’re no help. Maya and I already picked out a college and a major for you—something you can actually get into. We spent three whole days researching it.” I swallowed my words and felt the disappointment sink in. Every date, every vacation after that—I never got a say.
They decided, and I followed. After a while, I even convinced myself those were my choices too. But today, watching them chat about the house like it was theirs, I tasted nothing but bitterness. This place where I was supposed to live for decades looked exactly like Ethan and Maya’s dream home. I sat at my desk, frozen. My phone buzzed again. This time it was Maya, a voice message. “Celia, tell your man to back off! He’s being such a dinosaur—he wants a TV in the bedroom. Who even watches TV anymore?” The next few long voice clips were nothing but their bickering. I turned the screen off, and tears splashed onto the glass. I touched my cheek—I was already soaked. They were going at it, loud and happy, and neither one asked the person who’d actually sleep in that room whether she wanted a TV. I love TV. Always have. Every weekend as a kid, I’d drag a little stool into the living room while my parents watched, glued to the screen.
At Ethan’s house, his set was even bigger. Maya teased me: “Celia’s a total couch potato—she’ll watch anything.” Ethan laughed and promised to hang a huge TV on our bedroom wall so I could watch forever. But he probably forgot. Just like he forgot I’m scared of the dark, yet always scheduled late-night movies around Maya’s schedule. Forgot I wanted a coastal city, an English major, a first trip down south. I picked up my phone, typed a few words, erased them, over and over. In the end, I sent nothing. A petty part of me wanted them to be the ones waiting for my notice for once. And after that—miles apart, no looking back.