Chapter 1: The Honest Guy and the Heartbreaker
What can I say? I'm an honest guy.
Always have been, really. The kind who holds the door for strangers, who says "bless you" when someone sneezes (even if I'm way across the office, you know?). Maybe that's why people think I'm a little soft, but honestly, I've never minded. Honesty's what I've got, and I wear it like an old flannel—comfortable, reliable—maybe a little out of style, but it fits me.
I ended up marrying the queen of heartbreakers. Go figure.
No exaggeration—Savannah had a reputation that stretched from uptown rooftop bars to the grungy music halls downtown. Seriously. Guys fell for her like dominoes, and she never looked back. Still, I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd be different. Hope's a stubborn thing.
A year later, she started coming home later and later. She looked at me with more and more disdain.
It was in the little things, you know? The way she'd scroll through her phone at dinner, not even bothering to hide her boredom. The way she'd laugh too loud at a text, then glance at me—like she was daring me to ask. Even the dog got in on it, waiting up with me, ears perked for her heels in the hall.
I overheard her telling someone:
"A guy as average as him, with that little salary—what right does he have to expect me to settle down?"
Her voice cut right through the thin apartment walls. I just stood there, keys in hand. The groceries sweating in their bags. It stung, hearing it out loud, but there was a strange relief, too. Like finally seeing the crack in the windshield you'd been pretending wasn't there.
I let out a long sigh. Relief, weirdly enough.
Thank God.
Otherwise, I'd never have had the guts to ask for a divorce.
That's honest guys for you. Always thinking of everyone else first.
Even when it hurts, we try to do the right thing... I guess I was waiting for permission, some sign that it was okay to let go. Funny how a little cruelty can feel like mercy when you're desperate for an out. Crazy, right?













