A Heart Divided

He was a bit tired, but now determined to go through with his decision. They had been married twelve years, even had a daughter. His wife loved him and his daughter was the apple of his eye. Nothing was good enough for her; nothing was too much for her. Yes, he had a busy life that kept him traveling on work, 15 days a month, but they were always in his heart, he spent more than enough time with them, and - he thought - he was always in their hearts.

Well, he was always in his daughter's heart, if not his wife, he thought wryly. A 50% success rate isn't bad, he grinned cynically to himself.

He remembered the days that had opened his eyes when he had discovered what was happening. The casual SMS saying "Is he around? Are you free today?" on his wife's cellphone. He had not asked anything just then, but his instincts were aroused and he pushed himself to investigate her phone a bit more, while she was in the bath or out to the market; her email, her photos folder.... and pieced it together.

She had taken the fact of being discovered with ease and looked him in the eye ... she was young, she said (as if he wasn't!) and had needs (and he? Couldn't he have kept a mistress in every city? Shouldn't he have done so?), she couldn't cope with his absence half the time and had found someone else ... so what was he going to do about it?

He knew he could get a divorce with ease. She would not contest it, she said. He would even get away with no alimony since she was the erring partner and wasn't denying it.

But that would leave his daughter vulnerable. He didn't like the idea of her being left to the mercies of a stranger, even if that stranger was legally her father.

So he wrote the apartment into his daughter's name, with permission for the mother to stay there as long as she wished. The property could not be sold without his permission. And made a reasonable monthly allowance for her, till she started working as an adult, whenever that might be.

So for the last time, he sat opposite his ex-wife, at the Starbucks, drinking coffee and pretending that life was going on as normal.

Then seemingly on impulse, he tossed the car keys to her and asked her to keep it. You'll need it, he said.

She was initially hesitant but seeing the look in his eyes, she softly said that she was sorry. Then there was nothing more to be said. She picked up the keys and headed to the door.

He looked at her departing figure and felt relieved she hadn't noticed the oil stains on his hand.

The oil had dripped onto his hand when he had cut the brake cords, immediately after parking the car and before coming into the Starbucks.

END