It all started a week before Christmas when I stumbled upon a strange brown envelope in the closet where we hid gifts for our daughters. Thinking there were no secrets between Juan and me, my curiosity got the better of me—only to be rewarded with a brutal punch to the face, metaphorically speaking.
How naive we women can be sometimes. We only see what we want to see and sweep everything else under the rug.
A divorce petition left me breathless. After pinching myself more than a dozen times, I realized it was real. Juan had contacted a lawyer, meticulously divided our assets, specified the days he wanted to see our daughters, and even outlined the monthly alimony he’d pay me.
If I kept reading, my world would crumble completely. And it only got worse when I saw the date on the document.
Feeling frustrated and unable to fully grasp what was happening, I let out a dramatic scream and paced in circles around the house.
Why? I asked myself at least ten times.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. On the contrary, I still believed “satisfaction” was the only word that described our nearly ten-year relationship.
I needed answers. The questions were suffocating me, driving me crazy, and I could barely think straight after what had just happened. I ran like an idiot to the cordless phone we kept in the kitchen, dialed one of my friends, but then gave up on explaining or recounting the whole mess.
I’d always been the laughingstock among my friends. Most of the time, they mocked me for how submissive I was and how Juan controlled my life, down to every single move I made.
Mustering up some courage and a boldness I’d long forgotten, I dialed Juan’s personal number. Hearing his smooth voice on the other end, I asked the question that was choking me more and more.
“I was never good enough, was I?” I asked, my voice trembling, surely betraying all the tears I’d shed before.
“What?” he snapped, clearly annoyed.
“Why didn’t you listen to your mother?” I pressed, closing my eyes to hold back the tears.
“Where did you find them?” he asked, figuring it out, his voice cracking with nerves.
“In the closet... why? Why?! WHY?!” I insisted. “You son of a bitch…”
“Calm down, please, Kalei,” he sighed. I could tell he was alone; the silence on the line gave him away. “I’ll come home before the girls get back, and we can talk,” he said, referring to our daughters who were still at school.
I didn’t respond. I just stayed in the same pathetic position, sprawled on the couch, staring into space, taking in the strange mess my anger had created in the place I loved most: my home. A humble space that made me smile every day, a few walls that taught me the meaning of family love and showed me how far I’d come.
I’d poured everything into this life, I was sure of it. I’d even given my soul. And for what? So he could repay me like this, asking for a divorce, probably influenced by some lover manipulating his new decisions.
What would happen now?
What would I be without him? I’d wasted a damn decade with a miserable jerk who didn’t value me!
A decade!
“Damn it…” he muttered as he walked in, noticing the chaos my hands had wrought. “I’m sorry, Kalei. It’s for the best, for both of us, and you know it.”
“The best?” I asked, watching as the bastard sat down casually across from me, giving me a strange, pitying look. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. You and I don’t work,” he said, taking off his wedding ring and placing it inside a decorative bowl on the coffee table.
“And our daughters?” I pressed, trying to stir some guilt in him, but it seemed Juan only felt pity.
“I’ll provide alimony so they never lack for anything. That alimony covers your basic expenses too,” he detailed, avoiding my gaze. “We can come to an agreement on selling the house.”
“You think money fixes everything?!” I screamed, remembering that starting January second, my beloved husband would take on a managerial role at the company he worked for. “You bastard, you miserable, materialistic jerk,” I hissed through gritted teeth, storming off the couch to escape to the bathroom.
I needed to splash cold water on my face and clear my head!
I shut the door, catching sight of the awful reflection staring back at me.
While my home and raising my daughters were my passion, everything had worked against me. I’d bet I was as flabby as a bowl of Jell-O, my dry, dull hair ruined my pale skin, and if I kept listing all my flaws, I’d probably end up hating myself so much I’d do something drastic.
“Hey, Kalei, I’ve got to get back to work. Please fix the tree, and we’ll talk tonight,” Juan announced through the door. The hardness in his voice made me realize I didn’t even inspire pity in him. “Call your mom to help you find a lawyer,” he demanded, making it clear he was set on leaving me. “See you later.”
I closed my eyes after his cold goodbye and stayed there, staring at my reflection in the mirror for endless minutes. Pointlessly, I started an internal debate, a harsh self-criticism that began tearing me down fast.
I had nowhere to go, and I didn’t want to call my mom. Her lecture was something I neither wanted nor could face. I had no money since I’d never worked, let alone saved anything.
I had nothing, and the only thing left was my sister.
Since my relationship with my older sister had never been close, I didn’t have her number saved anywhere, and for her part, Kelly probably didn’t even remember my name.
I powered up the laptop Juan had given me last Christmas and typed my sister’s name into Google. The search engine returned a long list of results.
“Kelly Undurraga. Style and Art.”
After a long debate about whether to message her or not, I ended up sending a private message to her Instagram account. In simple words, I explained that my husband had asked for a divorce and that I needed advice, a place to go, and a whole lot of support.
After nearly ten minutes of waiting, I gave up when no reply came. Though I was devastated by everything, I motivated myself to tidy up the Christmas tree and the mess I’d made.
There were still about four hours until the girls got back from the school I’d enrolled them in to have some free time—time for myself that, in the end, I always dedicated to my home.
Cleaning, organizing, and tending to the flowers in the front yard, I used the time to pull myself together and think about what I’d say to them when the separation came.
I set up the Christmas tree again, feeling a strange resentment toward the season and the holidays we were living through. I’d probably never recover, never enjoy another Christmas, because Juan had ruined them with his damn selfishness.
Still angry at his selfish attitude, I sat down at the laptop to search for a lawyer who could guide me through the process. Though I still couldn’t believe it and thought I was having a bad nightmare, a part of me—the more logical part—knew the worst was yet to come.
My research was interrupted when someone knocked on the door. I jumped, startled, since I rarely had visitors at my house.
“Hey,” Kelly said as I opened the door, leaving me speechless as I looked her up and down.
No doubt, my older sister had changed. She was a different woman.
“You messaged me, I replied, and since you didn’t answer back, I thought something bad had happened,” she said sweetly, and suddenly I felt like a stranger to her.
“Yeah, yeah… sorry, I didn’t check my account again,” I whispered, noticing her tight, shiny pants, perfect for her slim figure. “Everything’s fine, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you…”
“Are you sure?” she pressed.
She lifted my chin, turning my face to move the bangs covering my eyebrow, which was bruised and red from a hit.
“Looks like things haven’t gotten much better…” she noted, raising her eyebrows at me.
I groaned, remembering that less than a week ago, Juan had taken out his frustration on me after a conflict at his company. Though I wasn’t involved or to blame, I always ended up as his punching bag when things didn’t go his way.
Yes, it had been ten years living under the shadow of a violent hand, a furious fist, and a toxic tongue. And while deep down I knew it wasn’t right, I’d been raised that way, so it all felt normal to me.
“What do you want, Kelly?” I asked, trying not to sound too hostile.
“Hey, you messaged me, and that hasn’t happened in twelve years,” she pointed out, slipping past me into the house. “I’m gonna think you’ve got no manners, Kei,” she teased, referring to the fact that I hadn’t invited her in. “I’m sorry I haven’t called all this time, but I always told you Juan wasn’t the man for you,” she said, making me feel worse. “Come on, Kalei, be realistic. He’s a jerk.”
“He is,” I admitted, collapsing onto a couch. “He is, and I knew it. I always knew it…”
“Then why the hell did you marry him?!” she shouted, stepping closer to me defiantly. “You nearly killed Dad!” she spat, then plopped down beside me on the small couch we shared.
I was surprised by her warmth and made space for her since the spot was tight for two. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and her closeness made me break down without warning. I burst into tears in Kelly’s arms, and she just stayed quiet, sparing me the annoying “I told you so,” stroking my hair for long minutes.
I was sure Juan would come home for dinner, but time passed, and he never showed up, making me feel even worse than I already did.
I tried to relax in my sister’s arms, where we also began to heal the wound caused by the distance we’d put between us due to our differences. My divorce was bringing us together, making me feel more loved than ever.
“I’ve got an idea to fix your Christmas,” Kelly said excitedly, whispering sweetly. I nodded, waiting to hear her plan. “You know I live alone in Santiago. I’ve got plenty of space for you and the girls…”
“That’s not necessary, Kelly. I can go to Mom’s…”
“You’re not going to Mom’s, don’t be stubborn…” she said, gently touching my bruised eyebrow. “You and Mom will just argue about everything… you know that, Kei,” she insisted, and I just smiled, remembering how unbearable my mother could be. “Come with me. The girls will be thrilled. I’ve only got two guests that night, but they’re reasonable people, clients and friends,” she added with a sweet smile, leaving me speechless as I thought it over.
“I don’t know, the girls…”
“The girls will be happy… I know it,” she assured me, winking playfully. I let out a small laugh, feeling a tiny bit better. “There it is, that’s the smile I want to see…” she pointed out, standing up from the couch. “Come on, show me your room!” she urged, grabbing my arms to pull me up from my defeated slump.
My sister and I dove into a strange process, a plan she called “Leaving Juan Behind.” Though I felt crippled abandoning my home—those walls that knew everything about me—as I packed my suitcase and stuffed in more clothes, I felt more secure and alive.
Maybe I even felt free.
I filled three suitcases with clothes and some toiletries, and after loading them into Kelly’s sleek SUV, we headed to a McDonald’s drive-thru. We bought greasy food with way too many fries we probably wouldn’t eat, then parked outside the school my daughters attended, waiting for the time to pick them up and make our escape to Santiago.
Time flew by as we waited for my daughters’ school day to end. While we sat there, my sister and I tried to imagine the look on Juan’s face when he realized we’d disappeared.
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