Seven Years and a Viral Breakup

It had been seven years of marriage when my husband’s "childhood sweetheart," Tiffany, went viral with her grad school speech.

"Every season with you is better than a thousand joys." The video was set to a montage of cutesy photos of her and my husband, Ben.

Calm as could be, I posted our marriage certificate in the comments. The next second, Ben was going ballistic, all-caps on me.

"I'm the guy in the video. I'm completely and utterly in love with Tiffany and I have no idea who this lady is photoshopping marriage photos with me."

"I'll report this for fraud."

Right after that, Tiffany posted another video, a screenshot of a $520,000 payment transfer with the caption: "Love means always feeling like you owe them."

I just laughed. "Oh, you owe me alright. Here's a divorce decree, now we’re even.”

1

I’d just finished placing the embryo into the glass jar when I heard Ben come home. It was my son’s remains and our anniversary today. He’d rushed out first thing that morning.

It was freezing out, like ten below, and I tried to put a scarf around his neck, but he didn’t have the patience. He yanked the scarf, knocking me off balance, and slammed the door behind him.

The impact made me double over with cramps. I called out his name, tears streaming down, but he didn't even turn around.

I managed to get myself to the ER, calling him non-stop, but he never answered. It wasn't until I left that comment that Ben called me threatening to file a police report. He even had his assistant call to warn me. It was so bad I ended up hyperventilating, shaking, the whole bit, and lost the baby.

"Is that the cheap-o jar you spent like 20 bucks on?" Ben scoffed, looking at the glass jar with a disgusted expression. “Seriously, Jo, can’t you ever be practical? It figures someone who doesn’t bring home the bacon wouldn’t know how to be considerate.”

I looked up at him. Five hundred twenty grand to Tiffany without batting an eye, but a couple of bucks on a jar to bury our child is just not practical. And the funny thing is I wasn’t even using his money, I made it myself.

He seemed uncomfortable with my stare, cleared his throat, and asked, "What's inside that thing, anyway? It's hideous.”

"The embryo," I replied.

"Embryo?” Ben's face turned a shade paler. "Whose?"

I placed the jar on the shelf before answering, "Just kidding.”

"You're nuts." He sighed. Then, he scowled. "Acting like a damn psycho. You can’t even make dinner. What do you even do all day?"

He finally sat down, his eyes landing on the flowers on the floor, his face immediately going red. "Where did those come from? Another student gift?"

"You’re a college teacher, you dress all flashy for your classes, who do you think you’re trying to seduce?”

I didn’t reply.

He took my silence as an admission, got angrier, and grabbed the bouquet, throwing it at my feet. A ring tumbled out, bouncing off the tile floor.

Ben picked it up, spotting his initials engraved on it, and his eyes flicked away. ...