On the first day of our marriage, my husband threw a greasy dishcloth in my face and said, “From now on, you’re my family’s maid.” I smiled, left my wedding ring on the table, and walked out with my suitcase.

We went into the courtroom together.

The judge carefully reviewed all the legal documents, confirmed that we both fully understood the agreement, and asked if our decision to divorce was free. I answered yes immediately. Brandon took a few painful seconds to process it, but he also muttered yes.

We both signed the papers.

The sound of my pen moving on the paper was almost imperceptible in the quiet room, but to me, it sounded like a heavy prison door closing forever.

When I finished signing, I immediately transferred the agreed-upon one hundred thousand dollars via my phone app. Donald checked the digital receipt. Brandon put his copy of the divorce papers away in his bag without looking at me again.

However, he called my name one last time in the busy hallway outside.

“Are you satisfied now?” he asked bitterly. “You officially lost a husband, a big house, and a family.”