When my husband Flynn suddenly asked for a divorce, I thought it was another woman. He’d been distant for months — late nights, silence, no laughter. I searched for answers and found them on his old laptop: dozens of loving messages to his best friend, Benji.
The next night, I watched from across the street as they met at the café Flynn and I once called ours. The way he looked at Benji — warm, adoring — was a look I hadn’t seen in years.
When I confronted him, he admitted through tears, “It’s always been him. I’ve been lying to you and to myself.”
It broke me, but it also freed me. He didn’t leave because I wasn’t enough — he left to live his truth. And in letting him go, I finally found mine.
