Those six days did something unexpected to me.
They didn’t destroy me.
They brought me back.
For the first time in years, I stopped looking at my marriage through hope.
I looked at it exactly as it was.
I saw how much I had reduced myself to make Elon comfortable.
How often I had swallowed my feelings.
How carefully I had managed his moods.
How many friendships I had allowed to fade.
How little space I occupied in my own life.
The affair wasn’t the only problem.
It was simply the thing that finally made me see everything else.
And once I saw it, I knew something with absolute certainty.
I wasn’t going to fight to save the marriage.
I was going to prepare to leave it.
Quietly, I contacted a divorce attorney.
A very good one.
I learned what my rights were.
I learned about custody.
