“Did you sign the divorce papers?” Sofia asked.
Javier clenched his hands.
“Do you really not care about anything we had?”
“I care about what happened to me.”
“My family is destroyed.”
“Your family was already broken, Javier. I just stopped paying for the paint that hid the cracks.”
He lowered his head.
“I admit I made a mistake.”
“It wasn’t a mistake. Forgetting an anniversary is a mistake. Sitting silently while your mother humiliates your wife is a choice. Using my name on a loan without my permission is a choice.”
Tears ran down his face.
“I was terrified of my mother.”
For the first time, Sofia believed him.
But a late truth could not repair what had already been broken.
“Then you should have dealt with your childhood trauma before getting married.”
“Give me six months,” he pleaded. “I’m in therapy. I’m finding a new job away from the family. I’ll cut them off completely.”
Sofia placed her phone on the table.
The call log from that day filled the screen.
“For thirty-three minutes while I walked through the rain, you didn’t call once. The moment your family lost a corporate contract, you called twenty-six times.”
She looked directly at him.
“That was when I understood exactly what I meant to you.”
Javier cried quietly.
“I really did love you.”
“Maybe in your own weak way. But I refuse to spend my life competing with your fear of your mother and your family’s obsession with my money.”
She stood.
“Sign the divorce papers, Javier.”
One month later, he did.
