Five years of marriage boiled down to being nothing more than someone's stand-in.
Lily had his devotion; I was left with hollow gestures.
Gifts from Aaron were rare, usually just token anniversary offerings.
For the past four years, I'd accepted them, whether I liked them or not, convinced they were tokens of his affection.
Now, I expected nothing.
No longer eager to measure my worth through his eyes.
Nor was I interested in dissecting his relationship with Lily.
When love fades, clarity arrives.
I met Aaron's detached gaze, and said plainly, "Aaron, let's get a divorce."
"Stop with the drama, we've got a reunion and you're coming. Let's go," he scoffed.
He noted my chilled, pale face—his eyes briefly showing concern.
He didn't wait for a refusal, just pulled me into the car.
Lily offered a guilty smile, "Oops, didn't realize you were coming, Jane. Took your spot."
Aaron glanced at me in the rearview, nonchalant, "No worries, she prefers the back anyway."
I was always the one who sat in the backseat of our relationship.
In the pecking order of Aaron's affections, I was also always an afterthought.
His life, his priorities, revolved around Lily.
He told me not to mind.
So, I didn't.