Chapter 1: The Divorce Ultimatum

I swiped at my tears with the sleeve of my old college sweatshirt, blinking up at the basement’s flickering bulb, determined not to let him see me break. The air was thick with the musty scent of old cardboard and mildew, and I could almost taste the dust with every breath. My voice wobbled, but I forced a crooked grin, the kind I’d seen in every soap opera meltdown:

"Hey, babe, can we move somewhere else?"

Afraid he’d shoot me down, I clung to the only leverage I had—my voice was sharp, my chest squeezing so tight I almost chickened out, but I forced the words out anyway, hoping he couldn’t see how badly my hands were shaking:

"Or else, I swear, I’m filing for divorce tomorrow."

It worked. The very next day, I hauled a cardboard box upstairs. As I lugged the box upstairs, the wail of a distant siren tangled with the smell of someone’s burnt toast drifting through the hallway, mixing with the relief and guilt curling in my stomach.

But even after Marcus made it big, we never divorced.

Later, when someone asked him about his secret to success, Marcus would pause like he was about to spill the best joke in the world, then smirk:

"My wife is so delicate. If I don’t work hard, how could I let her throw her little fits?"