Let's Divorce, My Husband

For twenty years, I was the invisible wife. The forgotten mother.

On my 45th birthday, I saw a cake on the kitchen table. For a moment, I thought they remembered me. But then Jackson snapped, “That’s for Donna. Today is her birthday. Don’t you know how to ask before assuming?”

Donna—my best friend, now my husband’s mistress. They remembered her. Not me.

I whispered, “It’s my birthday, too. Maybe you could finally fulfill your promise. From when we got married… the trip to Finland, to see the aurora borealis.”

He laughed in my face.