The Lived in son-in-law Wants Divorce

5

They sat in Ryan's living room that evening, two beers sweating on the coffee table between them, and Ryan kept circling back to the same question like a dog worrying at an old bone.

"I still don't get it," Ryan said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You loved her, man. Really loved her. I watched you turn yourself inside out for that woman for two straight years. What changed?"

"She was in love with someone else before we even married," Ethan said. "Some doctor her family never approved of. I finally understood that, really understood it deep down, and something in me just stopped caring what happens to her."

"That's disgusting," Ryan said, jaw tight with real anger on his behalf. "She let you build a whole life around her while carrying someone else in her heart the entire time. That's not a marriage, that's a leash with a wedding ring attached to it."

"Maybe," Ethan said, staring at the beer in his hands. "I loved her once. I won't pretend I didn't. But I'm done pouring myself out for people who wouldn't spare me a single glance if I was drowning right in front of them. From now on I protect the people who actually care whether I live or die. Nobody else gets that from me anymore."

Ryan studied him for a long moment, something skeptical flickering behind his eyes. "You sure you're really over her? You two were only married two years. That's not exactly a lifetime to just wash your hands clean of somebody."

"I won't lie and say there's nothing left at all," Ethan admitted quietly. "But my heart doesn't race for her anymore. It doesn't hurt the way it used to. That's enough for me right now."

Ryan nodded slowly, letting the subject rest between them. "So what's next for you then? You can't just sit around feeling sorry for yourself after the divorce goes through."

"I want to build something of my own," Ethan said, sitting up a little straighter. "A real career. Real money that's mine, not hers. I used to be good at something before I buried myself alive in that house."

Ryan's face lit up at that, genuine excitement chasing away the earlier tension. "You were more than good, man. You were brilliant. Half our graduating class would have killed for the offers you turned down back then." He grabbed his phone off the table. "Actually, I know somebody hiring right now. Big company, good money. Come with me tomorrow morning, I'll introduce you myself."

"I appreciate that," Ethan said, and meant every word of it.

They talked easier after that, old jokes resurfacing between them, old comfort settling back like nothing had ever pulled them apart. Then, somewhere in the middle of a story about their college days, Ryan mentioned a name almost carelessly, like it meant nothing at all.

"Remember Megan Foster? God, what a whole mess that was back then."

Ethan's face went still. Something dark and old moved behind his eyes, gone as fast as it appeared, but Ryan caught it anyway.

"Sorry," Ryan said quickly, reading the sudden shift in the room. "Didn't mean to bring up anything painful."

"It's fine," Ethan said, though his voice had dropped quiet and careful. Neither of them said anything more about it that night.

Ethan barely slept, staring at the hotel ceiling until his phone buzzed just past dawn. Sophia's name lit up the screen.

"I had a nightmare about you," she said the moment he answered, her voice tight and strange in a way he'd never heard from her before. "You were hurting yourself. You were dying, and nobody came for you at all."

"That's not going to happen," Ethan said flatly. "I'm perfectly healthy, Sophia. Was there something you actually needed, or did you just call to describe your dreams to me?"

A pause. Then, brisk again, all softness gone completely. "Where do you keep the stomach medicine? I can't find it anywhere in the usual cabinet."

For a moment old habit nearly won out, his mouth already forming the answer, top shelf, behind the vitamins, before he caught himself and stopped cold.

"I'm not your assistant anymore, Sophia. Figure it out yourself for once."

"Excuse me?" Her voice sharpened instantly, cutting like a wire. "Two years of marriage and you can't answer one simple question for me?"

"Two years of marriage and you never once said thank you," Ethan shot back, something reckless rising in his chest. "I want compensation for every year I wasted on you. Every meal I cooked, every night I waited up, every ounce of my life I handed over to you for free."

"Compensation," Sophia repeated, then laughed, short and cruel as a slap. "Look at you, finally showing your true colors. All that devotion and it was about money the whole time. How pathetic you actually are underneath it all."

"Fine, call me pathetic," Ethan said, satisfaction curling warm in his chest. "While we're being honest, let's talk about you for a change. Cold as a fish, married two years and still can't carry a child, and everyone in this city whispers about it behind your back like you're something broken. This time I'm making sure I walk away with something to show for putting up with you."

"How dare you speak to me like that."

"Goodbye, Sophia."

He hung up. Ten seconds later his phone lit up again with her name burning across the screen, and he silenced it without a flicker of hesitation, setting the phone face down on the nightstand.

It rang a second time almost immediately, buzzing angrily against the wood.

He hung up on her again, and this time he actually smiled, a real smile, warm and light in a way nothing about that woman had made him feel in years. For two years she had always been the one to end their calls first, always the one with somewhere more important to be than with him. Tonight, for the first time in his life, he had taken that small, petty power for himself, and it felt better than he had ever imagined it could.