Too Late For Apologies, Andrew

My husband, Andrew, a promising politician, asked me for a divorce for the eighth time.

It was always the same drill: his 'childhood best friend,' Gabby, would throw a tantrum, threaten his mayoral campaign, and he' d oblige, promising to "fix it later."

This time, the exhaustion was bone-deep, but when we sat in our lawyer' s office, something felt different.

Chloe, the paralegal, grimly asked if she should schedule the reconciliation filing for next month, as usual.

"There won't be a next time," I heard myself say, shocking even myself.