"I'll tell you what … seeing you're so pitiful, how about I let him come home to you tomorrow morning? You two barely meet each other once a week. You'd better make the most of it tomorrow."
I facepalmed and saved our chat screenshots without a hint of emotion. If we ended up in court, these would serve as evidence of Donald’s affair.
After I tossed Olivia's necklace into the trash, I started to contact divorce lawyers to discuss property division in a calm manner.
The lawyer asked, “Mrs. Hernandez, are you sure about this? Do you really want to file for divorce?”
"A husband and wife are bound by love for life. It’s always best to settle amicably. Once it goes to court, there’s no turning back," he advised.
I hesitated because I knew that divorce was not as simple as signing a paper. Even if I no longer wanted to stay with Donald, I still did not want to leave and burn the bridges.
The next morning, as expected, Donald came home. I did not ask him where he had been the night before and he did not seem too keen on explaining.
He quietly took a bowl, filled it with porridge, grabbed one of the meat sandwiches that was brimmed with filling from the table and started eating his breakfast.