Just transferring a house to her. Is it necessary to get a divorce?

Five years into our marriage, my husband's "one true love" posted a picture of a property deed on her Instagram story.

The caption read: "So grateful to Ethan for transferring this house to me. "

I stared at the address, which was my address. Confused, I commented a single question mark: "?".

Ethan's accusatory call came instantly. "She's a single mom, Olivia! Have some compassion! I just transferred the deed so her son can go to a better school. It doesn't affect us living there." His voice dripped with disdain. "Seriously, you have a heart of stone." Then, I heard Chloe's fake, breathy sobs in the background.

Thirty minutes later, another Instagram story, this time tagging me. A shiny new Mercedes, worth at least a hundred grand. "Just bought this baby outright! You know what they say, a man’s money goes where his heart is. "

I knew it was a "sorry" gift from Ethan. This time, I was done. I decided to get a divorce.

…

Ethan came home that evening to find me staring at a birthday cake, swallowing a Mifepristone pill. It was the first of the pills for a medication abortion.

It was my birthday. I'd bought the cake, waiting for him to celebrate, planning to tell him I was pregnant. I'd waited until 7 pm, unanswered calls and texts piling up. Only my comment on Chloe’s post got an instant response – a furious tirade. I’d tried to explain, but he hung up and blocked me. The stress triggered cramping and spotting.

Ethan glanced at the pills and the cake. "Whose birthday is it? Yours?" he asked, frowning.

I quietly put the pills away and tossed the cake in the trash. "A friend's," I said flatly.

He seemed relieved. "Your birthday's not till September 28th. It's only the 8th."

Five years of marriage, and he still got my birthday wrong. Ironically, he never forgot hers.

He sat down next to me and handed me a small teddy bear. "Chloe told me to give this to you. She was really upset by your passive-aggressive comment. Just apologize to her, Olivia."

The bear had a Mercedes logo – probably a freebie with the car – and a greasy stain. "I don't want it," I said.

His brow furrowed. "What's your problem? She's being the bigger person, apologizing, and you can't even say sorry?"

He tried to pull me up, presumably to force me to call Chloe. His grip was tight, and my injured right leg slammed into the coffee table. He’d scalded me a week earlier, carrying a bowl of hot oatmeal while texting Chloe. He hadn’t been looking, and the entire bowl landed on my foot, taking a layer of skin with it.

He saw the fresh blood seeping through the bandage. "I’ll take you to the hospital."

"Okay," I agreed.

In the car, Chloe’s chirpy voice filled the speakers through the Bluetooth. "Welcome back, my CEO! Work hard, make that money for me! "

Ethan's face tightened. "Chloe left this in my car last time. I’ll toss it later."

"Don't bother," I said quietly.

Silence returned. He looked at me, surprised. "You're not angry?"

I just pressed my lips together. I us...