I just got out of court. My divorce of fourteen years was over. I should have known something was up, but I worked too much to notice the small things. My son had chosen to stay with his cheating mother. I am sure he had something to do with it.
He, being my neighbour. He nearly triples what I made financially; it took both of us working to keep our house in a nice neighbourhood. I worked two full-time jobs and was still barely staying afloat. Now she was with him and wouldn’t have to work another day.
In the divorce settlement, they had let me keep the house. Why wouldn’t they? I thought as I opened the door to my now-vacant home. He sold his house and bought a new one a few streets down so that my son could go to the same school.
“Fifty-three!” I shook my head as I poured myself another drink.
The sight of them fucking on my bed as I came home was still drilled into my head.
A smile crept over my face as I sipped on my drink. I remembered telling a coworker about the situation.