She Outshines the Fireworks

The ninety-ninth time I found a pair of still-damp panties in my husband Adrian’s laundry, I printed out all the evidence of his affairs. Then I took all ninety-nine pairs of panties and marched into his corporate office. In front of everyone, I threw them in his face. Adrian, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, frowned from his wheelchair, his eyes cold as he watched my meltdown. Then he simply picked up his phone, called a doctor, and had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. I spent two weeks in that sunless hell. The next time I saw Adrian, he handed me a set of divorce papers. I wanted to scream, to cry, to tear everything apart. But then my ten-year-old son ran out from behind him and dropped to his knees in front of me. “Mom, please, stop being crazy!” he begged, his voice cracking. “Are you going to be happy only when you’ve driven Dad and me to our graves?” The raw hatred in his eyes drained all the fight out of me. I collapsed onto the floor. As the orderlies dragged me away like a dead dog for another round of electroshock therapy, I wiped the tears from my face and choked out the words, “Fine. Let’s get a divorce.”

1 At my answer, a flicker of warmth returned to Adrian’s icy expression. He leaned back in his wheelchair, his fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest. “Ava,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “just sign the papers, and I’ll give you anything you want.” My hysteria was gone. I looked at him, my heart a placid lake. I didn’t even want him anymore. What else could I possibly care about? “Just a standard settlement is fine,” I said. “I don’t want anything that wasn’t mine to begin with.” Adrian raised an eyebrow, finally deigning to meet my gaze. “Not even your son?” Before I could answer, our son, Noah, ran to Adrian’s mistress and threw his arms around her waist. “No! I’ll die before I go with her!” he cried, clinging to the woman, Brenda. “I want to stay with Dad and Aunt Brenda! Aunt Brenda said we’re the real family!” I took a deep breath and unclenched my fists, my knuckles white from the strain. “No, I don’t want him.” “When he was born, I couldn’t give him a choice of mothers. This time, I’ll let him have what he wants.” A flash of surprise crossed Adrian’s face. He had expected me to fight tooth and nail for custody, to drag out the divorce until he gave up. He never imagined I would let go so easily. I saw the relief on my son’s face, the happy smile that bloomed as he realized he was free of me. A thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart. “Ava, take some extra shares in the company,” Adrian said, his tone magnanimous. “Consider it payment for taking care of me all these years and for giving me a son.” A bitter, desolate look crossed my face, but I quickly hid it. I took the divorce agreement from his outstretched hand and, without a moment’s hesitation, signed my name. Twenty years. Twenty years of love, of hate, of sacrifice… all of it vanished in that single, swift stroke of the pen. “Ava, don’t disappoint me again,” Adrian said. Then he turned, and with Noah and Brenda in tow, he left the room. I watched them go, my lips moving in a silent whisper. “I won’t… I won’t disappoint you again.” The day I was discharged, a heavy rain was falling. I wandered through it like a ghost. I… I didn’t have a home anymore. Then, an umbrella appeared over my head, shielding me from the storm. I looked up and collapsed into my father’s arms, sobbing. “Dad…” It was the first time I had let him near me since my mother died. When I was eight, she was paralyzed, and he signed the papers to stop her treatment. I watched her jump from a hospital window, and in that moment, I hated him. Hated him for giving up on the woman he loved. That was why, when Adrian had his car accident and was told he would never walk again, when his own family had abandoned him, I never once considered leaving. I found the best traditional therapists and learned how to massage his lifeless legs. I gave up my dream college and worked nine jobs a day to pay for his rehabilitation. I swallowed my tears and plastered a bright smile on my face, constantly telling him he would get better. In our tiny, dark apartment, I remember his warm breath on my ear as he whispered, “Ava, having you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I will never let you down. I may be disabled, but I won’t be trapped like this forever.” And he was right. Adrian became a celebrated representative for disabled entrepreneurs, a rising star in the business world. And I became the wife hidden away in the shadows, a relic he was ashamed to show the world. The first time I found lipstick on his collar, it was like a lightning bolt had struck me down. Adrian fell to his knees, begging me not to leave. I pushed him away and was halfway to the lawyer’s office before the thought of our infant son made me turn back. I was soft-hearted. I didn’t know then that with infidelity, there is no “just once.” It’s either never, or it’s countless times. As Adrian’s transgressions became more frequent, the guilt in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sense of entitlement. He asked for a divorce again and again, each time ending with me in a rage, smashing everything in sight. But this time, faced with his cold indifference and my son’s hatred, I was just… tired. I was ready to let go. “Dad,” I said, my voice muffled against his coat, “as soon as the divorce is final, I’ll go to Australia with you.”

2 I went back to the house to pack my things, only to find the locks had been changed. Just as I was about to call Adrian, the door opened. Brenda stood there, wearing my pajamas, a smirk on her face. “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Ryder,” she purred. “After the scene you made at the office, I’m surprised you have the nerve to show your face here.” I looked at her, my expression blank. “Do I need your permission to come to my own home?” I brushed past her and walked inside. A sharp gasp followed me. Brenda was on the floor, weeping, her clothes mysteriously torn. She clutched the shredded fabric to her chest, but large patches of her pale skin were still visible. Adrian wheeled himself out, quickly shrugging off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders. His face was dark with anger as he turned on me. “Ava, don’t push it,” he snarled. “If the asylum didn’t cure your insanity, don’t blame me for locking you up until you’re normal.” That’s right. Ever since Brenda appeared, I had become a raving lunatic. Her perfume on his clothes made me crazy. Her lipstick in his car made me crazy. Her wet panties in his pocket made me absolutely insane. But he didn’t know. When the love is gone, the crazy goes with it. This time, I just looked at him calmly. “I didn’t do it.” Adrian, seeing that my expression was indeed different from my usual frenzied state, turned to Brenda with a flicker of doubt. “Adrian, she didn’t mean to tear my clothes,” Brenda sobbed pitifully. “It was… it was an accident. I was wearing her things. I’m so sorry…” The anger that had momentarily subsided in Adrian’s eyes flared up again. “Ava! She wore one of your old nightgowns by mistake, and you attack her in broad daylight? Where are your manners? Didn’t your mother teach you to respect others?” Just when I thought my heart couldn’t hurt anymore, Adrian always found a way to deliver another crushing blow. My mother was a wound that never healed. When he first heard her story, he had held me tight and sworn, “You silly girl. Don’t worry. I’ll be with you until the very end. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll never leave.” The words still echoed in my ears. But now… “That’s right,” I said, my eyes welling up. “I didn’t have a mother to teach me. Are you satisfied?” I walked past him into the living room. Adrian paused, a flicker of memory in his eyes. He started to follow me, but Brenda grabbed his pant leg, stopping him. As I entered the room, I saw my son happily scooping ice cream from a large, half-empty tub. My heart clenched. Because of the stress during my breastfeeding period, my milk had been poor. As a result, Noah had a very weak stomach and couldn’t handle anything too rich or cold. He’d had several bouts of vomiting and diarrhea as a baby, and each time, I was the one who sat alone and helpless by his hospital bed. I started to go to him, to stop him. But he saw me and dropped his spoon in terror. “Why are you back?” he shrieked. “I’m not going with you! I want Aunt Brenda!” “Aunt Brenda told me everything! Dad even named me after her! The three of us are the real family!” He scrambled away from me, screaming, and ran out of the room. I froze, my feet rooted to the spot. I had always thought Adrian named our son Noah because it sounded like “know I love you.” But it was for Brenda, not for Ava. “Ava, since you’ve decided to come back, I’ll overlook what happened today, as long as you swear you won’t have another episode and you won’t bother Brenda.” Adrian said as he wheeled back in, holding Noah. His tone was that of a king bestowing a great mercy. “Also, you scared Noah. He can’t sleep without Brenda, so she’ll be staying here for a while.” I didn’t turn around. “Fine,” I said calmly, and then went upstairs to move my things from the master bedroom to the guest room. Adrian frowned but said nothing. That night, I tossed and turned in the guest room, unable to sleep. Suddenly, I heard a commotion outside, punctuated by Noah’s weak cries. Then, a frantic knocking on my door. “Ava, something’s wrong with Noah!” Adrian’s voice was urgent. “He’s vomiting and has diarrhea, and he’s crying for his mom. Come and see what’s wrong!” I rolled over in bed, my heart a block of ice. “I’m not his mother, and I’m not a doctor. Take him to the emergency room before it’s too late.”

3. The knocking stopped. “You’re a cruel woman, Ava,” Adrian’s voice was low and menacing. The footsteps faded, and the house fell silent again. But my heart was in turmoil. He was my flesh and blood. How could I not ache for him? But then my eyes fell on the voodoo doll in my hand, riddled with steel pins. On the front was my name. On the back, in my son’s childish scrawl, were the words: I don’t want a crazy mom. The evidence was undeniable. My heart felt like it had been squeezed by a giant hand, leaving nothing but a bloody, mangled mess. If I hadn’t moved into the guest room, I might never have found the doll, wedged between the mattress and the headboard. The little boy I had cherished more than my own life had become the knife in my back. I wiped a tear from my eye and became that cold, heartless woman once more. I started packing up everything in the house that belonged to me. The soda can tab ring Adrian gave me when he proposed, the stub from our first movie ticket, the ultrasound picture of Noah’s heartbeat, his first pair of baby shoes… As I packed, I stumbled upon a box of receipts. Hundreds of thousands of dollars for high heels, millions for diamond rings, and even the deed to an island, gifted to Brenda, no strings attached. Compared to that, the things I had treasured were worthless. All those days I had spent in agony, unable to reach Adrian on the phone… he had been with her. After I threw everything in the trash, I felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. When Adrian was first starting his business, I had overcome my social anxiety, drinking myself sick at networking events, pulling strings to get his company off the ground. Then, I got pregnant with Noah. Adrian held me, his voice thick with emotion. “Ava, if you work yourself to death, how will I live?” The warmth of his tears on my neck brought a lump to my throat. After that day, I handed the company back to him and watched him shine, while I faded into the background, a housewife who flew into a rage over the smallest things.

4. The days passed quietly. Adrian and Noah didn’t come back for weeks. At first, I worried something had really happened to Noah, until I saw Brenda’s Instagram. They were in the Maldives, looking blissful. They looked like a real family. They finally returned on the morning we were scheduled to finalize the divorce. “Ava, you’ve become a monster! You’ll do anything to avoid this divorce, won’t you?!” Before Adrian could finish, his bodyguards grabbed me and dragged me in front of him. “Adrian, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said calmly. His eyes were red with fury, the veins on his hands popping as he gripped his wheelchair. “The whole internet is calling Brenda a homewrecker! Are you telling me you had nothing to do with that?” “It wasn’t me!” I said, my gaze unwavering. “You’re so cruel you don’t even care if your own son lives or dies. Who else could it be but you?” His voice was low, but he was slowly regaining his composure. A flash of resentment crossed Brenda’s face before she suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me. “Ma’am, I never meant to come between you and Mr. Ryder. I just love Noah so much. Please, don’t misunderstand. If you’re upset, I… I’ll leave right now.” She started sobbing and turned to go. “Brenda! Don’t go! Daddy! I don’t want my crazy mom!” Noah ran and threw his arms around her waist, and the two of them wept together. “Enough!” Adrian’s face was a thundercloud. “Ava, you made this mess, you will fix it. You will go online, and you will clarify that you were the third party, not Brenda.” I knew he wouldn’t believe me, but a tiny, foolish part of me still hoped. “I didn’t do it,” I said coldly. “And I won’t apologize.” “You’re choosing the hard way, then. Fine. Men, break her legs.” At his command, a man with a wooden bat approached me. I remember a time when a group of thugs tried to harass me, and he had protected me just as fiercely. Now, he was doing this to protect another woman? “Adrian! Don’t make me hate you!” “Do it! Don’t stop until she agrees!” His cruelty extinguished the last flicker of affection I had for him. Nothing mattered anymore. “I’ll do it,” I said. “On one condition.” “I’ll agree to anything, just—” “Let’s go sign the divorce papers. Now.” My interruption left him stunned. Then, he gritted his teeth. “Fine. Let’s go. Now.” At the courthouse, he signed the papers. As I was about to sign, he stopped me. “Before we divorce, sign this. It terminates your parental rights. Noah will have nothing to do with you from now on.” “Your mental state has improved recently. If you help Brenda now, I’ll be merciful and let you remain Mrs. Ryder. Noah will always be your son.” I pushed his hand away and signed both the termination of parental rights and the divorce agreement without a second thought. Outside the courthouse, I posted a single tweet: If the one who is not loved is the third party, then I admit, I am. I attached a picture of the divorce certificate. Then, right in front of Adrian, I took out my SIM card, snapped it in half, and threw it in the trash. I turned, got in a waiting car, and drove away without a backward glance. Adrian stared at the divorce certificate in his hand. Suddenly, his heart felt empty, as if something vital was being slowly stripped away from him. He opened his mouth to say something, but she was already gone. He realized then that something that had been holding him up for a very long time had just… broken.