My name is Ethan. Until that day, I had told myself that signing the divorce papers was the most painful decision I had ever made—but also the one that had to happen.
I was thirty-four years old, working an ordinary office job in Chicago.
Sophie had been my wife for five years.
For illustrative purposes only
From the outside, we seemed like the kind of couple others envied. She was warm, thoughtful, and never sought attention. Somehow, just having her in the room made everything feel lighter. Even after the worst day at work, coming through our front door and seeing her could make everything feel manageable again.
We had dreams.
A home of our own.
Children running through the rooms.
A lifetime together.
We believed all of it was still ahead of us.
Until our third year of marriage.
That was when we lost two pregnancies.
Two miscarriages.
Two pieces of the future we had imagined vanished, and neither of us knew how to find our way back afterward.
