No More Pleading for You

"On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine.I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair."I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies.I choose to believe him.But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary.Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place.Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans.That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him.I look down at the cold food on the table.Eric's words keep ringing in my head."I hate kissing.""Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses."Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately.Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes.The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands.I nod quietly, saying nothing.Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms."Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!"In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore.It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade.Now, all I want is to find myself again.I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design.From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back."