L
Seven Years and a Viral Breakup
It had been seven years of marriage when my
husband’s “childhood sweetheart,” Tiffany,
went viral with her grad school speech.
“Every season with you is better than a
thousand joys.” The video was set to a
montage of cutesy photos of her and my
husband, Ben.
Calm as could be, I posted our marriage
certificate in the comments. The next second,
Ben was going ballistic, all–caps on me.
“I’m the guy in the video. I’m completely and
utterly in love with Tiffany and I have no ideal
who this lady is photoshopping marriage
photos with me.”
“I’ll report this for fraud.”
く
Right after that, Tiffany posted another video,
a screenshot of a $520,000 payment transfer
with the caption: “Love means always feeling
like you owe them.”
I just laughed. “Oh, you owe me alright. Here’s a divorce decree, now we’re even.”
1
I’d just finished placing the embryo into the
glass jar when I heard Ben come home. It was
my son’s remains and our anniversary today.
He’d rushed out first thing that morning.
It was freezing out, like ten below, and I tried
to put a scarf around his neck, but he didn’t
have the patience. He yanked the scarf,
knocking me off balance, and slammed the
door behind him.
<
The impact made me double over with
cramps. I called out his name, tears streaming
down, but he didn’t even turn around.
I managed to get myself to the ER, calling
him non–stop, but he never answered. It
wasn’t until I left that comment that Ben
called me threatening to file a police report.
He even had his assistant call to warn me. It
was so bad I ended up hyperventilating,
shaking, the whole bit, and lost the baby.
“Is that the cheap–o jar you spent like 20
bucks on?” Ben scoffed, looking at the glass jar with a disgusted expression. “Seriously, Jo, can’t you ever be practical? It figures
someone who doesn’t bring home the bacon
wouldn’t know how to be considerate.”
I looked up at him. Five hundred twenty grand
く
to Tiffany without batting an eye, but a
couple of bucks on a jar to bury our child is
just not practical. And the funny thing is I
wasn’t even using his money, I made it
myself.
He seemed uncomfortable with my stare,
cleared his throat, and asked, “What’s inside
that thing, anyway? It’s hideous.”
“The embryo,” I replied.
“Embryo?” Ben’s face turned a shade paler.
“Whose?”
I placed the jar on the shelf before answering,
“Just kidding.”
“You’re nuts.” He sighed. Then, he scowled.
“Acting like a damn psycho. You can’t even
<
make dinner. What do you even do all day?”
He finally sat down, his eyes landing on the
flowers on the floor, his face immediately
going red. “Where did those come from?
Another student gift?”
“You’re a college teacher, you dress all flashy
for your classes, who do you think you’re
trying to seduce?”
I didn’t reply.
He took my silence as an admission, got
angrier, and grabbed the bouquet, throwing it
at my feet. A ring tumbled out, bouncing off
the tile floor.
Ben picked it up, spotting his initials engraved
on it, and his eyes flicked away. It was like it
<
just hit him that today was not just Tiffany’s
birthday but also our anniversary. If Tiffany
hadn’t gone viral today, I never would have known, the wedding date had been selected
to make her jealous.
The day I was hoping for was the day he used
to pick a fight. Pretty pathetic.
