The divorce continued.
Our lawyers handled the discussions, and I kept my attention on the company and my own financial responsibilities.
Grant and I no longer argued about daily expenses.
There was nothing left to argue about.
The agreement he had insisted on remained the arrangement we followed.
My income stayed in my account.
His income stayed in his.
We maintained the agreed household contributions while the remaining matters were handled through the legal process.
It was strange.
We had once shared everything.
Now we discussed expenses as though we were two people managing a temporary business arrangement.
Perhaps that was what we had become.
One evening, Grant came home looking exhausted.
He put his keys on the kitchen counter.
Then he sat down.
I was reviewing a report from Hawthorne Kitchens.
He glanced at the papers.
"How is the company?"
"Stable."
"Still getting those contracts?"
"Yes."
He nodded.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, "I didn't think things would turn out this way."
I closed the report.
"Neither did I."
He rubbed his hands together.
"Do you know how difficult things have become?"
I looked at him.
"What specifically?"
He mentioned the financial pressure.
He mentioned his vehicle.
He mentioned how his mother was struggling with the costs of maintaining her lifestyle.
He also mentioned Vanessa's employment situation.
I listened.
He seemed to expect sympathy.
I did feel sorry that things had become difficult.
But sympathy didn't mean I had to take responsibility for solving every problem.
"Grant, those are things you and your family need to work through."
He looked at me.
"You make it sound so simple."
"It isn't simple. But it isn't my responsibility anymore."
He leaned back.
"I used to think you would always be there."
I looked at the table.
That sentence would once have made me emotional.
Now it simply made me think.
I had always been there.
That was precisely the problem.
I had been there when the company was failing.
I had been there when his family needed money.
I had been there when unexpected expenses appeared.
I had been there when he wanted someone to organize the finances.
But when my parents needed help, he acted as though I had betrayed him.
I had been there for everyone.
And somehow, I had stopped being there for myself.
"I know," I said.
He looked surprised.
"That's all you have to say?"
"Yes."
He stood up.
The conversation ended.
A few days later, I received another update from the independent accountant.
The review of the questionable transactions had progressed.
The records relating to the thirty-one thousand four hundred dollars had been preserved and documented.
The company continued handling the matter through the appropriate procedures.
I didn't interfere with the accountant's conclusions.
I didn't need to.
The evidence had already been secured.
The business managers also reported improvements in the company's operating position.
The two major contracts were helping stabilize the company.
Expenses were being monitored.
The financial reporting was clearer.
I read the report twice.
Then I placed it in the company folder.
There was something satisfying about seeing the numbers make sense again.
Not because I had won an argument.
Because the company was finally being managed according to its actual needs.
Around that time, Grant sold his luxury SUV.
I heard about it from him.
He mentioned that the sale would help repay the improper expenses.
He didn't sound happy.
That vehicle had been one of his favorite possessions.
He had spent years showing it to friends and talking about its features.
Now it was gone.
I didn't ask how much he received.
It wasn't my decision to make.
Patricia's lakeside property had also been sold.
She had relied on the monthly contribution for years, but the payments were no longer coming.
The sale was necessary for her to manage her expenses.
Vanessa had found regular employment after the consulting payments stopped.
I heard those details separately.
I didn't celebrate them.
Their circumstances were consequences of decisions and financial arrangements they had to manage themselves.
I had no desire to watch anyone struggle.
I simply wasn't going to rescue them again.
One Saturday, Grant asked whether I would consider delaying the divorce.
I was sorting documents at the dining table.
I stopped.
"Why?"
He sat opposite me.
"Because eleven years is a long time."
I nodded.
"It is."
"We've been through a lot together."
"Yes."
He looked down at his hands.
"I know I made mistakes."
I waited.
He didn't mention the phone.
He didn't mention my parents.
He didn't mention the agreement.
He didn't mention the money he had taken from the company accounts.
He simply said he had made mistakes.
I wanted to believe that meant something.
But an apology without an understanding of what happened could not repair much.
"Grant, I don't hate you."
He looked up.
"Then why can't we try again?"
"Because I don't want to return to the same marriage."
He looked disappointed.
I continued.
"I spent years making sure everyone else was comfortable. I don't want to spend the rest of my life doing that."
He didn't answer.
I returned to the paperwork.
There was no shouting.
No slammed doors.
Just two people who had finally reached a point where the same promises no longer meant anything.
Source: kaylestore.net
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Six Months After That Broken Phone, I Finally Understood Why Walking Away Felt More Difficult Than Fighting Back
He Thought Six Hundred Dollars Was Enough to End Our Marriage, But He Had No Idea What I Had Been Paying For All Along
Part 10 of 12
