Life used to feel simple and predictable. My twin brother Lance and I were always in competition despite being twins. Our parents, with a sense of humor, named us Arthur and Lance, like knights of legend, but our relationship was anything but knightly. Lance, with his effortless charm and athleticism, always seemed to excel, while I, the older twin by two minutes, struggled to gain recognition.

It’s funny how childhood dynamics shape your entire life. Reflecting on my marriage to Paige, I realized it mirrored that competition, constantly chasing something just out of reach. When we met, she seemed perfect, smart, beautiful, and driven. We built a life together: kids, a suburban home, stable jobs, but over time, something essential was missing, turning our marriage into a routine instead of love.

As I rushed out of the house, my body gave out. I vomited violently, releasing more than just fast food. It was the pent-up pain and bitterness I had swallowed for too long. The reality of my broken marriage hit me hard.

Paige followed me outside, barefoot, pleading. I shook her off, yelling at her to leave me alone as I sped away, drowning her voice with the car’s engine. In the rearview mirror, I saw her standing there in her bathrobe, arms crossed, looking worried, but not enough to stop me. The realization that there was no love left between us hurt more than catching her in the act minutes earlier.

It wasn’t a new revelation, just an old truth I had avoided facing. At Lance’s apartment, he greeted me with concern, but I brushed past him and collapsed on the couch. His messy apartment always annoyed me, with dirty dishes and clothes strewn everywhere. He’d been playing video games when I arrived.

Typical Lance.

“Everything okay, bro?” he asked, nudging me.

I ignored him, and he eventually returned to his game. Finally, I snapped, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Without looking away from the screen, he replied, “Aren’t you?”

Watching him play, my anger grew. How could he sit there casually playing video games while my life was falling apart? Why did things come so easily to him while I carried all the weight? I exploded, surprising even myself.

“Can you turn that crap off? What are you, sixteen?”

Lance shrugged, unfazed, and kept playing.

“What’s your problem?” he asked calmly.

That’s how Lance handled everything. Nothing ever fazed him. My rage boiled over. I grabbed his controller and smashed it against the wall. “What the hell, Art?” he yelled. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You!” I shouted, poking him in the chest. “You’re what’s wrong with me!”

“If you’ve got a problem, leave. This is my place. Go back home to your wife.”

I snapped. We’d fought before, but this time was different. Fueled by anger, I attacked again, but Lance, always stronger, easily overpowered me, knocking me out cold. When I came to, I heard Lance on the phone.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” he said.

Seeing me awake, he smirked and tossed me an ice pack.

“You done acting like an idiot?”

“Why did you call Paige?” I groaned.

“She’s your wife. She should deal with you,” he replied.

“Call her back. Tell her I left or died. I don’t care. I can’t talk to her right now.”

His expression softened. “What’s going on, Art? You came over here and swung at me. What’s your deal?”

Reluctantly, I told him about the day’s events: the sick feeling after a bad meal, deciding to work from home, and the unexpected discovery that shattered my world. I didn’t expect Paige to be home, and the strange car outside didn’t raise alarms. I was too focused on reaching the bathroom, unaware that my life was about to change forever.

As I finished recounting the story, Lance grew serious.

“That witch!” he yelled. “Screw her!”

I chuckled darkly. “Funny, that’s what that guy was doing.”

Ignoring my comment, Lance started pacing. “Who is this guy? Do we know him?” He paused, looking worried. “Tell me it’s not Brian.”

“No, not Brian, but the guy looked familiar.”

A knock at the door interrupted us. It was Paige.

“He left,” Lance said coldly, cutting off her protests.

When he returned, I gave him a grateful smile, and we spent the rest of the afternoon in silence. Eventually, I knew I had to face Paige. Staying away was just delaying the inevitable. When I got home, everything looked normal, almost as if it had all been a bad dream, but it wasn’t.

Inside, Paige tried to talk.

“We should talk,” she said.

I sighed, staying silent. She apologized, but it felt hollow, more about how I found out than the betrayal itself. I sarcastically threw her words back at her, mocking her empty apology. We argued about everything but the core issue, dodging the real pain.

Eventually, I asked, “How long has it been since we made love?”

She hesitated. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s like you were just doing me a favor,” I said. “But that guy, he gets enthusiasm.”

She didn’t answer, and I knew I was just trying to provoke her. But I wanted her to feel something, anything close to what I felt. But she couldn’t, because I hadn’t cheated. I had kept my vows.

After a tense silence, I finally asked, “Do you still love me, Paige?”

Her hesitation was telling.

“Yes, but not in the same way. Not anymore.”

“Not in that way,” I repeated, realizing she didn’t love me anymore.

Exhausted, I got up to leave. She grabbed my hand. “Don’t run away. We need to finish this.”

I pulled away. “What’s left to say? You don’t love me.”

“That’s not what I said,” she insisted. “I know you’re hurt, and I regret it, but you’re twisting my words.”

“Right, because you understand me so well,” I sneered. “When did you stop loving me? Before or after you started cheating? Because I don’t remember you ever mentioning it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Being an idiot won’t make this easier.”

“My mistake. I didn’t realize how tough this was for you,” I responded sarcastically.

She started to respond, but stopped. Her patience was finally gone.

“You know what, Artie? You’re right. I should stop apologizing. You’ll just twist everything I say.”

I couldn’t resist one more jab.

“Was this you trying to spare my feelings?”

That was it. Her face hardened, and she smirked.

“Yes, I was sparing your feelings. I wasn’t going to tell you that you’re a boring, overweight man who’s terrible in bed, or that the last time we had fun was before I got pregnant. But since you insist.”

Her words cut deep. I wanted the truth, but not this brutally. So I retaliated.

“Well, when your wife just lies there like a blow-up doll, what do you expect?”

Unfazed, she delivered the final blow.

“If you’d seen me with Derek, you’d know what I’m like with a man who knows what he’s doing.”

That hit me hard. My pride shattered. I was speechless, her words echoing in my head. Seeing my reaction, her anger shifted to regret.

“Artie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” she began, but I left the room before she could finish.

The next morning, I woke up in the guest room, disoriented and late for work. Her words, “boring, overweight man,” echoed in my mind as I stared at my reflection. Before yesterday, I thought my life was good, comfortable with a decent job, a nice house, and kids in private school. But apparently, that wasn’t enough for her.

She wanted someone who wasn’t me. As I left the bathroom, Paige and I awkwardly crossed paths in the hallway.

“I need to wake Josh,” she said.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

We quickly went our separate ways, and I was relieved to leave the house. At work, I tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting back to Paige and her affair. Her words haunted me.

“If you really saw me with Derek, you’d know what I’m like with a man who knows what he’s doing.”

My phone buzzed. A text from Paige.

“Last night got out of hand. We need to talk without the petty nonsense.”

Anger flared, but I didn’t lash out. I simply replied, “Agreed. We’ll talk tonight.”

Her response came quickly. “Okay, see you then.”

At work, I couldn’t shake her cruel words, especially as I visited a store managed by a fit young guy named Phil. Watching him work, I couldn’t help but compare myself, her words echoing in my mind. When I asked Phil how he stayed fit, he gave me a gym card, suggesting I check it out. I stuffed it in my wallet, unsure if I’d ever use it.

At home, Paige and I sat in silence until I finally asked, “Why, Paige?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “Because I’m not attracted to you anymore. We’ve lost the spark.”

Clenching my teeth, I asked, “And I suck in bed, right?”

She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I was angry.”

“Is it true?” I asked, but her silence answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let this go on for years instead of talking to me?” I asked, frustrated.

“I tried at first, but nothing changed. So I convinced myself I had no right to be unhappy.”

I couldn’t believe it.

“You never told me I was bad in bed.”

“But I did mention your weight,” she said defensively.

“How was I supposed to know that meant you were unhappy in our marriage?” I retorted. “I thought it was just a phase.”

“Why didn’t you try to fix us, then?” she shot back.

“I wasn’t the one cheating,” I replied sharply. “If you were so unhappy, you should have spoken up, not stepped out.”

After a moment of silence, she quietly said, “I think we should get a divorce, Artie.”

Her words echoed in my mind. Logically, it made sense, but love isn’t logical. I felt a surge of anger, not just about the cheating, but because I wasn’t the one suggesting the split. I should have been the one to end it, but I was still holding on to hope.

“Of course you think we should,” I said sarcastically. “Never mind the twins, right? Divorce because you need sex.”

“Come on, Artie. You said you were unhappy, too.”

“Yeah, but—”

I started to argue, but realized it was pointless. She was done, and I needed to get away. This time, when I left, she didn’t stop me. As I was about to leave, one last question burned in my mind.

Without turning around, I asked, “Who was that guy?”

“Derek. His name is Derek. He works with me,” she replied.

“Derek,” I whispered, recalling him from an office party two years ago. “You two danced a lot.”

Sensing my implication, she quickly responded, “We weren’t sleeping together then, I promise.”

I scoffed bitterly. “I guess that’s something.”

“But you were flirting, right?”

“What does it matter, Artie?” she asked sadly.

“It matters to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. There was some attraction, maybe flirting, but it was just office banter. Things didn’t get serious until we started meeting at the gym.”

“Of course, the gym,” I muttered venomously. “That’s when you decided to wreck our marriage, right? Because I’m just the boring, fat guy?”

“Artie,” she whined, but I ignored her.

“He’s great in bed, right? Turns you into a nympho. Those were your words.”

She just repeated, “I’m sorry I said those things.”

Tired of her hollow apologies, I muttered, “Whatever,” and walked out.

I drove straight to my brother’s place. He took one look at me and stepped aside.

“Staying over?” he asked.

I nodded. He returned with a blanket.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem. Just don’t act like an idiot, or I’ll knock you out again,” he joked, heading to bed.

I spread the blanket on the couch, undressed, and washed up. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I shook my head and walked out. As I lay on the couch, I wondered how my life had come to this. I did everything right, worked hard, stayed loyal, but here I was, crashing on my brother’s couch like I was the one who messed up.

Sleep was elusive. My mind kept replaying scenes of Paige and Derek, not just in bed, but at the gym and work, laughing and flirting. Those images hurt more than what I saw in the shower. Did they ever talk about me? Compare us?

The thought stung deeply. I finally dozed off, only to wake when Lance started getting ready for work. He grabbed the yogurt and ate it standing up in the kitchen, looking like a college kid. I held back my thoughts.

After all, I was crashing at his place with no plans to leave anytime soon.

“Are you going to work today?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I replied.

He shook his head and finished his yogurt, giving me one last piece of advice before leaving.

“Art, don’t let that witch turn you into a sad loser. Move on. There are plenty of women out there.”

I didn’t respond. His advice, though well-intentioned, felt clueless. He saw my situation as just another breakup, not realizing the difference between my twelve-year marriage and his fleeting flings. Life had always been easier for Lance.

He had the looks and charm, while I worked hard for everything. I stayed with Lance for a week before we both needed space. Paige texted me several times, asking where I was and if I was coming back. I ignored her until she mentioned the twins had questions.

I knew I had to face the kids, so I went home. I planned to go when the house was empty, but when I pulled into the driveway, Paige’s car was already there. Inside, I found her in the bedroom packing my clothes.

“You’re finally back,” she said.

“What are you doing with my clothes?” I asked.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming back, so I started packing them to save you the trouble,” she replied.

“You knew where I was, Paige.”

“You left me to handle the kids alone,” she shot back.

“Do you remember why I left in the first place?” I asked incredulously.

After a pause, she admitted, “Okay, it’s my fault. I was wrong for cheating, and you have every right to be angry.”

“Did you ever love me?” I asked honestly.

“I did, and I still do, in a way,” she replied, implying that love had changed.

Realizing nothing could be salvaged, I said, “I’ll move my stuff to the guest room.”

She nodded sadly. Trying to lighten the mood, I added, “I’m getting a new bed for that room.”

She chuckled. “Yeah. You bought that uncomfortable bed to keep Lance from staying too long.”

“Well, that plan backfired,” I laughed.

We moved my clothes in silence, agreeing to an unspoken truce. The rest of the day passed in cold politeness. That evening, we sat the twins down to explain what was happening. Watching my kids struggle with the news was almost unbearable.

I couldn’t even look at Paige, knowing she was the cause of all this pain. Over the next few weeks, life dragged on. I contacted a lawyer who told me we’d have to be separated for a year before filing for divorce. We agreed on a separation with heated discussions about the terms.

Paige wanted to date, and I insisted she keep it away from the kids. After two weeks, I moved out into a new apartment. After moving out, life felt bleak. One day, while sitting in my empty apartment, I saw a commercial for the gym Phil had recommended.

I decided to check it out. When I arrived, I immediately felt out of place, but Naomi, the manager, greeted me warmly and convinced me to take a tour. Hesitant, but curious, I agreed. During the gym tour, Naomi showed me the amenities, but what really caught my eye was a wall of before-and-after photos.

She pointed to one picture and said, “That was me when I first joined.”

I was stunned. Her before photo showed her at about two hundred pounds. She explained, “I gained a lot of weight during my pregnancy. My husband bought me a treadmill for Christmas, which I didn’t appreciate at first, but it pushed me to make a change. With my brother-in-law’s help, I lost over seventy-five pounds.”

“Wow,” I said, genuinely impressed.

“So, Arthur, don’t feel out of place. We all start somewhere. Maybe one day your picture will be up here, too.”

Her words convinced me, and I signed up for a membership. I started with the beginner program, where a trainer showed me the equipment and gave tips for effective workouts. I then booked one-on-one sessions with a trainer named Manny every Wednesday at 8:00 a.m. to create a personalized workout routine. I also tried various classes, enjoying the Thursday biking class, but finding yoga less fun than expected.

Meeting others on similar journeys made me feel less alone. While the gym helped me stay sane, things with Paige only worsened. One evening, I visited the kids at our old home and found Paige’s niece babysitting. When I asked where Paige was, the niece seemed nervous, hinting that Paige was likely out with Derek.

I stayed to spend time with the kids and sent the niece home. Paige returned around 11:00, surprised to see me. She looked beautiful in her black dress, but her disheveled appearance suggested she hadn’t just been out dancing. I calmly said, “I came to see the kids. Since I was here, I sent Penny home. If I’d known you’d be this late, I wouldn’t have.”

She seemed to gauge my mood, but I was emotionally drained.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

I shook my head and stood up. “No worries. Crap happens,” I said flatly, heading for the door.

As I grabbed my coat, she quietly thanked me for paying Penny.

“No problem. Good night, Paige,” I replied and walked out.

Months later at the gym, I pushed through a tough workout, but when I stepped on the scale, I found I’d only lost ten pounds in three months. Frustrated, I stormed out, feeling life was unfair. Outside, Naomi noticed my mood and asked if everything was okay. Before I knew it, I spilled everything.

My weight loss struggles, Paige, my kids, and even Lance. She listened attentively and then asked, “What do you really want, Arthur?”

I admitted I wanted to feel good about myself. She explained, “Losing weight alone won’t make you happy. Real self-esteem comes from within, not just looks. You need to know your worth beyond appearance.”

Her words resonated with me. She then gave me a card for her brother-in-law, Jerry, a personal trainer and life coach, and encouraged me to give it my all if I chose to work with him. A week later, I met Jerry, who was fit and intimidating. He was professional, almost cold, and warned me that this wouldn’t be easy.

His approach was strict: no excuses, no exceptions. He even inspected my kitchen and asked personal questions about my habits. Despite his tough demeanor, I agreed to follow his regimen. Jerry’s program was intense.

The first day, I met with a nutritionist who taught me about healthy eating. I learned how much my diet needed to change and started cooking all my meals. The workouts were brutal, but gradually, I adjusted. Despite the challenges, I knew I was making progress, both physically and mentally.

I was constantly hungry and exhausted. My entire body ached, and simple tasks became difficult. All I wanted to do was rest, but I couldn’t neglect my kids. Despite the exhaustion, I made time for them.

Paige, to her credit, made it easier for me. She didn’t mind if I dropped by the house, even unannounced. Maybe it was guilt, but I believed she genuinely wanted to do what was best for the kids. She insisted I keep the house key.

I think the unspoken agreement was that I would respect her privacy. Unfortunately, I didn’t hold up my end. Jealousy got the better of me. It started as innocent curiosity, just poking around when I thought I wouldn’t get caught.

I wasn’t looking for anything specific, just trying to see how things were without me around. The first odd thing I noticed was a new toothbrush in the bathroom. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but then I saw men’s body wash in the shower and started to worry. There were no men’s clothes in the closet, but I found a pair of boxer shorts in her laundry basket.

Seeing another man’s underwear mixed with my wife’s things felt like a violation, as if he was taking over my space. I swallowed my anger and acted as if nothing was wrong. I didn’t want her to know I was snooping. Keeping her in the dark seemed like a way to gather more information.

Plus, I wanted to appear unaffected, as if her actions didn’t bother me. I also asked the kids if they’d noticed anything unusual or if any new people had been visiting. They didn’t seem to know what I was talking about, so I assumed Paige was keeping her end of the deal by not involving them. It seemed her dates happened while the kids were at school or on nights out.

But no matter how hard I tried to hide it, I’m sure Paige sensed my pain. It’s difficult to conceal that kind of hurt for long. Sometimes, she’d give me a guilty look when she caught me watching her, knowing how easily she was moving on while I remained stuck in regret. It hurt, and sometimes I couldn’t pretend it didn’t.

Jerry’s workouts helped. His barking orders during bench presses or smacking my stomach during sit-ups distracted me from thoughts of Paige. Even his sarcastic remarks about my nickname helped channel my frustration away from my problems. Work also became a refuge.

Like many men in my situation, I found solace in my job. At work, I was valued based on performance. Numbers and results mattered. If something wasn’t working, you fixed it.

If only marriages were that straightforward. Months passed both quickly and painfully slow. The days were filled with agony. But pain also reminded me I was still alive.

The body has an incredible ability to heal and adapt. Over time, I grew stronger physically and emotionally. Bit by bit, my heart became numb to the situation with Paige. Our relationship shifted so subtly that I didn’t notice until it had changed significantly.

The change became clear a couple of weeks before our separation anniversary. One evening, the kids were asleep, and I was waiting for Paige to come home so I could leave. I spilled soda on my shirt, so I decided to wash it right away. I assumed Paige wouldn’t be back until later, but she surprised me by coming home early.

I rushed to the kitchen to grab my shirt from the dryer, feeling self-conscious. I didn’t want her seeing my bare chest, still haunted by her past judgments. As I struggled to untangle the wet shirt, I didn’t notice her until I heard her footsteps stop behind me. I turned to find her staring at me, wide-eyed, as if seeing something unexpected.

Her gaze made me even more anxious, and I tried to cover myself with the twisted shirt.

“Uh, hey, Paige. How was your night?” I asked, trying to sound casual but desperate for her to stop staring.

“It was fine,” she replied slowly, not breaking eye contact.

“Uh, okay.”

I could feel the tension in the air. Her eyes were silently comparing me to her sex god. It took all my remaining pride not to flee the room. Instead, I held my head high and said, “The kids are in bed, dinner’s done, and homework’s finished. I’m heading out now. If you don’t mind, I’ll use your bathroom before I leave.”

Then I quickly left the kitchen. When I got to the bathroom, I finally managed to untangle the shirt. Before putting it on, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was shocked, just like Paige had been earlier. My apartment only had a small mirror that barely showed enough to shave, so I hadn’t been paying much attention to my appearance.

After my disappointing experience on the scale, I had been avoiding mirrors altogether, preferring to remain in blissful ignorance. But this mirror covered the wall above the sink, reflecting my entire torso. I was stunned by what I saw. My chest had definition, and my midsection was noticeably slimmer.

The excess fat that used to stick out had flattened. My shoulders were broader, creating a more V-shaped physique. I wasn’t ready for a fitness magazine cover, but I looked far better than the out-of-shape version of myself I had been used to. For the first time, I saw an attractive man in the mirror, and that man was me.

Was this why Paige had been staring at me? Maybe she wasn’t disgusted. Maybe she was attracted. That moment in her bathroom was a turning point for me.

It was the first time I actually felt worthy. When I left the bathroom, I casually walked past her and said, “All right, Paige. I’m off. Have a good night.”

Her eyes lingered on me as I left, but this time I didn’t shy away from her gaze. I embraced it, though I pretended not to notice.

“Uh, good night, Artie,” she replied, her voice softer than usual.

With a newfound confidence, I walked out the door with a bit of a swagger. After that moment in Paige’s bathroom, I became more aware of the changes I had made without realizing it. I constantly compared myself to how I was when I first started. Some changes were obvious, like my clothes fitting differently.

My dress shirt collars were no longer tight around my neck, and my waist size had dropped from forty-four to thirty-six. Other changes were smaller, but still satisfying. I could bend down and get up more easily, tie my shoes without spreading my legs wide, and get in and out of the car without grunting. When Jerry saw me next, he noticed the change in my attitude.

The fatigue had lifted. The weights felt lighter. The treadmill was less daunting. And my energy levels soared.

I even found myself checking my reflection more often during workouts. Jerry caught on and couldn’t resist teasing me.

“Looks like someone finally noticed the results of his hard work,” he joked.

I laughed. “Yeah, you caught me.”

“Oh, go ahead and admire yourself,” he said, stepping aside dramatically. “I’m not in your way, am I, handsome?”

“No, you’re not, idiot. Thanks for asking,” I said, laughing so hard I had to stop lifting.

“Anytime, Your Highness. I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of love at first sight.”

For the first time, Jerry called me Your Highness without the usual snark. It was nice to joke around with him for a change, as he usually acted like a tough drill sergeant. Another significant change I noticed was how people interacted with me. They seemed friendlier, lingered a bit longer when they looked at me, and smiled more.

It might sound shallow, but I couldn’t deny it. Attractive people do get treated better. It’s a sad reality. I realized Paige wasn’t immune to this, either.

Ever since that night at her house, she’d been more attentive, smiling more, and even brushing her hair out of her face in a way that felt almost flirtatious. She stopped treating me with pity and started showing me respect. Everything came to a head on our separation anniversary. I had contacted my lawyer and gave the go-ahead to prepare the divorce papers.

I wanted them ready so Paige and I could move on. Instead of having her served, which felt impersonal, I decided to give them to her directly. We were in a good place, and I felt the end of our marriage deserved the same respect as its beginning. That night, I found her upstairs getting ready, possibly for another date.

She was in front of the mirror putting on earrings. I knocked on the door frame to get her attention.

“Oh, hey, Artie,” she said, turning around. She spread her arms and asked, “How do I look?”

“Hey, Paige. You look beautiful, but I’m sure you already knew that,” I replied.

Her eyes did that familiar roving thing, taking me in.

“No, just trying on clothes to see how they fit. You remember this dress?”

I took a closer look and then burst out laughing. “Isn’t that the dress I bought you for your birthday? What was it, eight years ago?”

She smiled brightly and laughed. “It was nine years ago, remember? I saw it in the window and mentioned I liked it. You said we couldn’t afford it, but you didn’t tell me you got that promotion. Then you surprised me by coming home with the dress and the good news.”

“I remember,” I said with a nostalgic smile. “We celebrated that night at the new Italian restaurant.”

Her gaze shifted, and she added softly, “That’s also the night we conceived the twins.”

Pleasant memories flooded my mind, recalling how close we were that night. But suddenly, those happy memories turned dark. I pictured myself struggling to please her while she was half asleep, only for another man to replace me in my mind. Though I didn’t remember Derek’s face, the thought of him haunted me.

The room felt heavy with unspoken tension. I shook off the thoughts and said coolly, “I have something for you.”

I dropped a manila envelope on the bed, and her expression darkened as she looked at it.

“Wow, you didn’t waste any time getting that ready, did you?” she said bitterly.

“Well, it did take me a year,” I joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

But she didn’t laugh or smile. She just turned back to the mirror, expressionless, as if the papers didn’t matter.

“I’ll look at them when I get a chance,” she said flatly, dismissing me.

I left the room puzzled by her reaction. I didn’t expect a celebration, but I thought she’d at least be relieved to start the process. I found Josh first, playing video games in his room.

“Is your homework done?” I asked sternly.

He turned quickly, guilt written on his face. “Almost,” he mumbled, looking away.

Seeing my expression, he added, “I’ll finish it now.”

“Good choice.”

He grumbled under his breath as he turned off the game, but I pretended not to hear. Sometimes it’s best to walk away before you have to discipline your kids for something minor. Next, I found Ally in the living room flipping through a photo album. The cover was our wedding album.

No need to ask about homework; she was always on top of it. I sat next to her and put my arm around her.

“Hey, pumpkin, what are you looking at?” I asked.

“Just you and Mommy’s wedding pictures,” she replied, pausing on one of me and Lance in our tuxedos. “You look just the same, especially since you lost all that weight. You look really handsome now.”

“So I wasn’t handsome before?” I teased, laughing as she tried to backtrack.

After a few seconds, I let her off the hook. “Just kidding. Thanks for the compliment.”

She smiled and leaned into me, but then her expression turned serious. “Are you and Mommy ever going to get back together?”

I sighed, wishing I could avoid this conversation. “No, sweetie. I don’t think so,” I answered honestly, thinking of the divorce papers on Paige’s bed.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Sometimes adults realize they can’t stay married, but that doesn’t stop us from loving you.”

“So you and Mommy don’t love each other anymore?” she pressed, seeing through my attempt to soften the truth.

“We care about each other, but not like husband and wife. That’s why we have to split up. But we’ll always be friends.”

Ally looked sad and turned away. I kissed her forehead, but it felt like a small gesture against her big questions. Explaining divorce to a nine-year-old is tough. To them, it’s simple: if you love each other, you stay together.

Why can’t life be that straightforward? I used to think it was, but everything changed when Derek entered the picture. I sensed someone behind me and turned to see Paige walking away. As Ally and I continued looking through the album, I wondered how much of our conversation she had overheard.

A few nights later, I decided to attend my weekly biking class. I hadn’t been in a while since starting with Jerry, so there were some unfamiliar faces. I spotted a familiar one and took the bike next to her.

“Hey, Colleen,” I greeted cheerfully.

She turned and smiled when she recognized me.

“Arthur, long time no see. I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve slimmed down. Too good to work out with us now? Where have you been?” she teased, her eyes scanning me with appreciation.

I blushed. “I’ve been here, just working out at different times. How have we not bumped into each other?”

“Like I said, you’re too good for us now,” she joked, nudging me playfully.

“Trust me, you’re definitely not fat,” I said, glancing over her.

Realizing I was checking her out, I became shy again, unsure whether to apologize or act like it didn’t happen. Luckily, the trainer started class, saving me from further embarrassment. After class, as Colleen walked past me, she brushed my shoulder.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she said with a playful smile as she sashayed out of the room.

I wondered if she was flirting with me. After being married for so long, I wasn’t sure how to recognize the signs anymore. Over the next few weeks, I kept attending the class just to interact with Colleen. Each time, things played out the same way, and I became more convinced she was interested in me.

I wanted to ask her out, but kept hesitating. Every time I saw her, I told myself this was the time, but I always chickened out at the last moment. Jerry noticed me checking her out a few times, but he didn’t say anything. Though I could tell he knew what was going on.

One day, Colleen walked up to me, looking a bit confused, and said, “Your friend over there told me you had something to ask me.”

She pointed behind her, and I saw Jerry in the distance smiling and winking at me. I mentally cursed him.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered.

She waited patiently, and I finally mustered the courage to go for it. “I was wondering if you’d like to do something together sometime.”

She looked thoughtful at first, and I braced myself for rejection. But then she smiled brightly and asked, “Are you asking me out?”

Her enthusiasm gave me the confidence to respond. “Yes, I am. Would you like to go out with me?”

She handed me a piece of paper with her number. “Call me tonight.”

Seeing my confusion, she laughed. “Your friend bet me you wouldn’t ask me out because you were too chicken.”

“Really?” I glared at Jerry.

“Yep, but I had faith in you. Now I’m ten dollars richer thanks to you.”

“Happy to help. Let me know anytime I can make him a loser,” I joked, and we both laughed.

She said goodbye and reminded me to call her after 8:00. As she left, Jerry walked over with a smug look.

“What’d she want?” he asked, pretending to be clueless.

“She came over to tell me what an intrusive a-hole you are,” I replied, throwing a towel at him.

He laughed and shrugged it off. That night, I faced another dilemma. I hadn’t been on a first date in over a decade. I had no idea where to take Colleen or what to expect.

Were the dating rules still the same as when I courted Paige? My mind raced with questions. Dinner? A movie? Something more adventurous?

Surprisingly, Lance gave the best advice.

“I always take a girl somewhere unexpected. Dinner and movies are boring first dates and can get you friend-zoned. Do something unique, like taking her to a weapon range or batting cage. Excitement works every time.”

I couldn’t think of anything I could teach her, but then Lance suggested, “Why not go for a bike ride? Didn’t you meet her in a biking class?”

I asked Colleen, and she was excited about the idea. So, that Saturday, we packed our bikes into my SUV and headed to the trail. But what seemed like a good plan quickly backfired. Biking on a first date turned out to be a sweaty and awkward way to get to know each other, leaving little room for conversation.

When we did take breaks, we were too busy catching our breath to talk much. I started to worry the date was a bust, and Paige’s taunt about me being boring echoed in my mind. Then something unexpected happened. A panicked kid ran up to us yelling incoherently.

We tried to calm him down, but he was too upset to make sense. Eventually, he waved us to follow him. When we got to the spot, we saw a man lying on the ground, desperately holding on to someone dangling over a cliff.

“They’re over there. Please help them,” the boy cried.

My instincts kicked in. “I’ll grab him. You two help the kid,” I told the others.

Colleen stood back as we pulled them to safety. Watching the son hug his exhausted father was incredibly moving. The father whispered something to his son before passing out. Colleen had already called emergency.

When the paramedics arrived, we tried to revive the man, but couldn’t. The EMTs took over while the police asked us questions. Before we left, I found a cell phone on the ground, likely the man’s. I called a contact labeled Cara Wife to inform her, and then handed the phone to the police before they left.

I thought the date was ruined, but Colleen was thrilled. She gushed, “Oh my God, you saved that guy and his kid. You’re a hero.”

I tried to downplay it. “It was all three of us.”

But she shook her head, insisting, “You acted without hesitation. That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”

The date ended with a passionate kiss and the promise of a second. On our second date, we did something more traditional. We talked about our lives. She had two kids, one in high school.



The date ended with us making out on her porch. Things were going well until the third date on Valentine’s Day. We went to see Fifty Shades of Grey, and it clearly stirred something in her. When we got back to her place, she hinted that her kids were away and invited me in.

Her intentions were obvious, but as things heated up, all I could hear were Paige’s hurtful words about my inadequacy. The pressure became overwhelming, and I had to stop.

“I’m sorry, Colleen. I’m not ready,” I said, holding back tears as I rushed out of her apartment, leaving her confused.

After that, I avoided the gym, or at least tried to avoid her. I couldn’t face her after what happened. I stuck close to Jerry during workouts, avoiding eye contact and pretending not to see her. It was childish, but it was all I could do to avoid the humiliation.

The situation brought back deep-seated insecurities that Paige had planted. I started imagining that whenever I saw Colleen talking or laughing with someone, they were mocking me. These thoughts isolated me even more, and my workouts began to suffer. Jerry noticed and wasn’t happy.

“Come on, King Arthur. What’s up with you?” he snapped when I quit early on the treadmill.

“I’m just not feeling it today,” I muttered.

He mocked me. “Not feeling it? Want to retire to your chambers?”

His attitude pushed me over the edge. “Back off, Jerry. I’m not in the mood for your crap.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Trying to soften the blow, I added, “I’m just going through a lot. I need a break.”

He gave me a cold look and said sarcastically, “So, you want to take a break and call me when you feel better?”

Despite knowing he was mocking me, I considered it. A break sounded good.

“I just need you to ease up a bit,” I said, hoping for some understanding.

To my surprise, he shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to waste time on someone who can’t get his act together. Let’s end our workout so I can focus on clients who actually care,” he said nonchalantly.

“What the hell, Jerry?” I asked, stunned as he walked away.

I chased after him, desperate for an explanation. “So, I need one day and you drop me? After all my hard work, I’m not worth a second chance?”

He ignored me, but I kept pressing until he turned and shoved me, pinning me against a machine. His voice dripped with anger.

“You know what you are, Arthur? A whiner. You expect sympathy because your wife didn’t appreciate you. But life doesn’t work that way. Winners get back up and prove people wrong. Losers whine.”

Jerry’s words cut deep, and I could barely hold back my anger. He looked at me with a smirk and asked, “So, what are you, King Arthur? A winner or a whiner?”

His challenge made my blood boil, but I didn’t back down. He pointed to the treadmill and ordered, “Get back on and give me twenty more minutes.”

Fueled by rage, I ran faster than ever, pushing myself to the limit. When the treadmill finally stopped, I stormed off to the locker room, fuming. Jerry followed me and sat down quietly next to me as I struggled to catch my breath.

After a long pause, he opened up. “I proposed to my wife three times before she said yes. She kept turning me down because she was in love with another man.”

His voice had a vulnerability I hadn’t heard before. I asked who the other man was, and he replied, “Her husband.”

That shocked me. It turned out she was a widow, and no matter what Jerry did, he always felt like he couldn’t live up to her late husband. It was a rare moment of honesty from him, and it caught me off guard.

“How did you handle that?” I asked.

He admitted, “I tried everything to prove I was good enough, but in the end, she only saw me as a good friend.”

His frustration was palpable. He explained that even though he looked like a walking billboard for GNC, everyone faces rejection.

“It’s not about how you look,” he said. “Confidence based on others’ approval is shallow. Real worth comes from within.”

He then shared the lesson he learned. “If you’ve done everything you can, and it’s still not enough, it’s not you, it’s them. Her rejection didn’t make me less worthy. It just meant she couldn’t appreciate what I brought to the table.”

His story made me see him differently. He wasn’t just a tough coach. He was human, with his own struggles. He explained that after breaking things off with his now wife, she eventually realized what she had lost and fought to be with him.

They’ve been happily married for five years, but he didn’t stop there. He mentioned the 80/20 rule, that people often take for granted the 80% they have and chase after the 20% they’re missing. He believed I was Paige’s 80%, and he wanted to make sure I didn’t take things for granted either.

“I push you because I don’t want you to feel entitled,” he said. “You’re not some pathetic guy who needs pity. You’ve got strength, determination, and honor. Once you stop seeing yourself through your wife’s eyes, you’ll realize you’re King Arthur. Start acting like it.”

I hit the showers afterward, letting the warm water soothe my sore muscles. Jerry’s words kept replaying in my head. He was right. I’d spent too much time judging myself by other people’s standards.

I compared myself to Lance because everyone else did. I believed Paige’s view that I wasn’t worth fighting for. My worth at work only felt real when it was validated by others. But life isn’t that simple.

There’s no formula for self-worth. You have to believe in it even if others don’t. I needed to stop hearing Paige’s hurtful words and move on. Weight loss alone wouldn’t fix that.

It had to come from within. Later that night, I was jolted from a deep sleep by my ringing phone. Groggily, I realized it was 4:00 a.m. and the caller was Lance. Annoyed, I answered with a sarcastic, “What, Lance?”

“Did I wake you?” he asked, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“You think?” I snapped, waking up fully as I sensed something off in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated before blurting out, “Julie’s pregnant.”

I frowned in confusion, asking, “Who the hell is Julie?”

“The girl you met on our birthday,” he reminded me.

After a moment, I recalled the young blonde cheerleader. I raised an eyebrow, asking if she was even legal. Lance got defensive, insisting she was twenty and had her own apartment.

“Did you check her ID?” I teased, which only frustrated him more.

“Do you always have to be such a smug prick?” he shot back.

I retorted, “Do you always have to act like an irresponsible teenager? You’re thirty-five and you got a twenty-year-old pregnant. Ever heard of protection?”

His voice turned cold. “You know what, Art? Get over yourself. You think you’re perfect, always looking down on me. You’ve always been Mom and Dad’s favorite, the golden boy. Meanwhile, I’m the screw-up.”

I should have felt some sympathy, but his whining only irritated me more.

“Spare me, Lance. Everyone worships you, the football star. Mom and Dad always bail you out, but when my life falls apart, I’m on my own. I was always the one being compared to you.”

He snapped back. “That’s nonsense. Every time they help me, they lecture me to be more like you. And you, you act like no one ever helps you. But when your wife cheated, whose couch did you crash on? Who ran interference? Me. I’ve always been there for you. Even back in high school when I fought off bullies for you. So cut the crap about being all alone.”

I was about to snap back at Lance, but then I stopped. I actually listened to what he said, and it hit me. He was right. Despite our fights and my judgments, he was always there for me when things got tough.

I started to see things from his perspective. While I was jealous of him growing up, I never noticed how much my parents bragged about me because I was too focused on how proud they were of him. I always saw him as the tall, good-looking guy who had it easy. But from his view, after dropping out of college, he constantly felt like a failure.

Our parents always stepped in to help him because they didn’t believe he could do it himself, which must have crushed his self-esteem. Now he was scared because he had a baby on the way and felt incapable of handling it. So, he called me, his twin brother, for support. And what did I do?

I treated him like crap.

“You’re right, Lance,” I said without sarcasm or malice.

He wasn’t expecting that and was caught off guard. I took the chance to elaborate.

“You’ve always been there for me, no matter what. You’ve always been the guy I lean on.”

“Uh, thanks,” he replied, still sounding confused.

I switched the subject, asking, “So, how far along is she?”

His voice dropped as he answered, “A couple of months. She just told me today.”

“Damn. Are you two keeping it?”

“Yeah,” he said, the weight of that decision heavy in his voice.

“How do you feel about that?” I asked.

He paused before admitting, “I’m scared, Art. How do I raise a kid? I still live like one. I’m not like you. Josh and Ally are lucky to have a dad like you. What’s my kid going to think of me?”

I remembered having the same fears when Paige was pregnant.

“Lance, stop comparing yourself to me. That’s the mistake I always made with you. Believe it or not, I’ve always been jealous of you.”

He gasped in surprise. “Stop nonsensing me, Art. What the hell are you jealous of? You’ve got your crap together, especially now that you’ve lost all that weight.”

I chuckled at the irony. “That’s just it, Lance. Neither of us should be jealous of the other. I’m working on fixing my insecurities. Why can’t you? If you want to be responsible, then be responsible. If you want to be a good dad, learn how to be one.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he grumbled.

“You’re right. It is easy to say, but it takes work. And if anyone can do it, you can. You’re one of the strongest people I know. I’d bet on you any day.”

“Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“Absolutely.”

And I meant it. Lance might have been irresponsible at times, but I always believed he’d outgrow it. And I had a feeling the time was now. We talked for two more hours, and the more we did, the more I believed he’d be a great dad.

He wasn’t handling the situation like everything else. He was worried, thinking about how his actions would affect his child. Isn’t that what all good fathers do? I shared my own parenting failures, hoping it would make him feel less alone.

Some stories made us laugh, others were cautionary tales. I joked that fate would probably give him a girl as karma, and he laughed at that. I promised to be there for him in whatever way he needed, and I meant it. By the time we hung up, the sun was rising.

Something had shifted in me during that conversation. I grew up a little. I wasn’t jealous of my brother anymore. It wasn’t because I realized he was as jealous of me as I was of him.

It was because I started seeing myself differently. I was the responsible one, the smart one. Those were qualities I should have been proud of. They were my 80%, and I didn’t need the other 20%.

I was fine just the way I was. I got up and prepared for work feeling better than I had in a long time. Life moved at a steady pace after that. Weeks turned into months, and my outlook brightened.

The one downside was that Jerry felt like I didn’t need him anymore. My weight loss had been so successful that there was no trace of my old self. But the real reason he moved on was because I saw myself differently. My confidence was up, and that had been his main goal all along.

Looking back, I saw how calculated his plan was. The snarky comments, the tough workouts, the relentless attitude. It was all to stop me from seeing myself as a sufferer of fate’s cruel joke. Honestly, he was worth every penny I should have paid him.

During our final bittersweet workout, things with Colleen came to a head. I got distracted when she walked by, and Jerry noticed.

“You going to just keep staring at her or actually talk to her?” he asked with a knowing look.

I hadn’t even realized I was staring until he pointed it out.

“Sorry, Jerry. I’m getting back to lifting,” I mumbled, quickly doing some arm curls and slamming the weights back on the rack.

“Look, Art,” he said cautiously. “I’m not trying to meddle, but it’s obvious you want to talk to her. Whatever happened, it can’t be worth all this effort to pretend she doesn’t exist.”

I looked around, embarrassed. “Am I that obvious?”

“Was that supposed to be subtle?” he snickered.

Seeing my horrified expression, he added, “Just go talk to her.”

“I can’t. After what happened, she’ll probably just laugh and walk away.”

He shrugged. “Then stop staring at her from across the room. That’s more effective.”

His smugness was infuriating, but I knew he was right. I saw Colleen heading to the locker room and, swallowing my fear, hurried to catch her.

“Hey, Colleen,” I called out.

She turned, immediately looking uncomfortable as she stared at the floor.

“Hey, Arthur,” she said quickly.

Her demeanor didn’t inspire confidence, but I pushed through the awkwardness. “How have you been?” I asked, my voice betraying my nervousness.

“Pretty good,” she replied without meeting my eyes.

Gathering my courage, I said, “Listen, I was hoping we could talk, you know, clear the air.”

She nodded quickly. “When did you want to talk?”

I took a chance. “Are you free now?”

“Well, I need to shower first, but we can talk after. That okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” I replied, relieved.

As she disappeared into the locker room, I exhaled, glad I’d gotten through the awkward exchange. Jerry, talking to Naomi nearby, gave me a thumbs-up, signaling his approval. After we both showered, we met at a nearby Golden Corral. As we ate, I struggled to start the conversation.

Small talk filled the silence, but I could see she was growing impatient. Finally, I took a deep breath.

“I wanted to talk about that night, you know, when things almost happened.”

She shifted uncomfortably, shaking her head. “You don’t have to explain. It’s fine. It’s not the first time a man hasn’t been attracted to me. I’m used to it. My ex-husband wasn’t either. I’ll get over it.”

I was stunned. “What?”

“Yeah,” she sighed with a sad smile. “He used to call me piggy and poke my stomach, even in front of his friends.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she tried to rush to the bathroom, but I gently grabbed her hands.

“Colleen, you’ve got it all wrong.”

She looked up, and my heart broke seeing her pain.

“Your ex was an idiot. I don’t know what his problem was, but that’s not how I feel. I’m attracted to you. You’re sexy, fun, and beautiful.”

“Then why?” she asked.

I took a deep breath and told her everything. My story, my fears, my past. She listened without interrupting. When I finished, her reaction shocked me. She burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked, horrified.

This was exactly what I feared. She managed to stifle her laughter and stop me from leaving.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she said, catching her breath. “I’m laughing at us, this whole situation. Both of our spouses told us we were fat, ugly, and bad in bed.”

“Your ex called you boring, too?” I asked, chuckling.

She nodded, trying to suppress another laugh. Soon we were both laughing so hard we couldn’t stop, ignoring the funny looks from people around us. The conversation turned into a competition of who had the worst insults from their ex. She won, though only because her ex had been at it longer.

At least Paige kept her disdain hidden until the end.

“Well, today turned out differently than I expected,” she said with a smile. “I worried I came on too strong and scared you away. I really liked you and didn’t want you to see me like he did. For once, I wanted to feel sexy, even if just for one night. So, I went all out. When you didn’t, you know, I felt like a failure.”

I smiled back. “I get it. I was so focused on not being what Paige said I was that I ended up proving her right.”

Talking to Colleen felt different. It was comforting to share with someone who had gone through the same rejection. I didn’t feel so alone.

“So, what do two so-called losers who are bad in bed do together?” I joked.

“Own it,” she replied with a grin.

Then, with mock seriousness, she added, “Hi, my name is Colleen, and I’m bad in bed.”

“Hi, Colleen,” I said, trying not to laugh.

As we sat together, I realized how much we had in common. Despite all the bad things life throws at us, sometimes it surprises you with something good. You just have to be open to it.

“How about this?” I suggested. “Let’s forget proving our exes wrong. Let’s go out again. No pressure, no expectations, just have fun and get to know each other.”

She smiled brightly. “I like that. No pressure, just fun.”

Then she added with a playful smirk, “And if we happen to sleep together, so be it.”

I nearly fell out of my chair laughing, but her words sparked something in me. I felt more relaxed and connected to her.

“Yeah, if it happens, it happens,” I joked, crossing my fingers.

We clinked our cups in a toast, unaware that someone familiar was watching us. By the time I noticed, she had already left. I wouldn’t learn about this until weeks later.

“Why does Paige make everything so difficult?” I thought as I stood in her bedroom doorway, trying not to lose my cool.

Every time I tried to move forward, another obstacle appeared. She was dragging her feet on signing the divorce papers, and it was frustrating. We’d talked about it numerous times, but she always brushed it off like it didn’t matter. Her indifferent attitude made me angry.

I was fed up with being tied to her. Even when I tried to move on, her words haunted me. I wanted her out of my life, but as always, it had to happen on her terms.

“Paige, what’s the problem?” I asked impatiently as she sat in bed, putting on lotion like I wasn’t even there.

She had the nerve to look smug in new lingerie that her boyfriend probably bought.

“You can’t expect me to sign papers without a lawyer looking them over,” she said condescendingly.

“They’ve been on your dresser for a month. How can my lawyer review them if I don’t have them?”

She looked exasperated. “I haven’t found a lawyer yet, Artie. When I do, I’ll give them to him. Now, calm down. You’ll wake the kids. Sit down, relax. You look stressed,” she said, patting the bed.

I counted to five, trying not to explode. “What do you mean you haven’t found a lawyer yet?”

She looked surprised by my tone. “I wasn’t expecting you to just drop the papers on me. I thought we’d talk about it first.”

“I’m pretty sure we covered everything when you called me a fat, boring loser who’s bad in bed.”

“Artie,” she whined, gearing up for another round of the same old argument.

I was tired of it, so I steered the conversation back on track. “When do you plan on getting a lawyer? Have you even been looking?”

Instead of answering, she turned it around on me. “Why the sudden rush? You didn’t seem to care before.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the one who wanted this divorce. You found me so repulsive that you sought out other men. Now I’m giving you what you want, and you’re making it hard for me. Why?”

Her haughty attitude softened. “I’m not trying to make this difficult for you,” she said genuinely.

And maybe she was telling the truth. She’d never intentionally made things harder during our separation, but trust was in short supply.

“Then sign the papers. They’re as fair as I can make them.”

She hesitated. “I just think we should talk first.”

“No, Paige. There’s nothing left to discuss,” I snapped, my patience gone.

She fell silent. Realizing that yelling wouldn’t help, I took a deep breath.

“Look, I’m not trying to screw you over. I’m just trying to move on. But I can’t do that with the weight of our marriage holding me down. It’s too much.”

I didn’t mean to be that honest, but the words just came out. When I looked at her, I saw her eyes welling up.

“I’m sorry, Artie. I’ve been really terrible to you,” she admitted.

I didn’t respond, just listened. When she realized I wasn’t saying anything, she asked, “Can you ever forgive me?”

Could I really forgive her? Could I move past that day that seemed to define everything? Over time, the pain faded, and that day became just a few paragraphs in my past.

“I do forgive you, Paige,” I said.

She smiled, relieved. “Really?” she asked.

“Yes. Now, I just want to move forward.”

Relief washed over her face. “That’s all I’ve wanted, to know you forgive me.”

Feeling positive about our conversation, I added, “Great. Now you can sign the papers with a clear conscience.”

Her smile faded into disappointment and then anger. “Wait, are you just saying what I want to hear to get me to sign?”

I was taken aback. “What?”

She stood close, the scent of eucalyptus lotion strong. “Who is she?” she demanded, glaring at me.

“Who?” I asked, still confused, stepping back as she closed the gap.

“The woman you’ve been seeing. Colleen. Who is she?”

I wondered how she knew about Colleen. Then it hit me. She was jealous. The audacity of it made me laugh, which only fueled her anger.

“Is this funny to you?” she snapped.

“Yeah, it is. The hypocrisy is pretty hilarious.”

She ignored my remark. “Who is she?” she repeated.

I didn’t owe her an answer, but I gave her one. “Someone I met at the gym.”

Her response was dripping with irony. “The gym, of course.”

“How do you know about her?” I countered, shifting the focus.

She hesitated, then admitted, “I saw you at Golden Corral a few weeks ago, laughing with her. I got curious, so I went through your phone.”

“You went through my phone?” I gasped, feeling violated.

She wasn’t my wife anymore.

“Yeah, I saw texts from a woman named Colleen and connected it.”

I almost got indignant, but remembered my own snooping. Instead, I shrugged.

“What does it matter? We’re separated. You’re with Derek. Did you expect me to stay celibate while you enjoyed being single?”

Her anger flickered, but faded quickly. She seemed to realize her own hypocrisy.

“I guess I didn’t think about you with someone else,” she admitted softly, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Instead of feeling vindicated, I felt offended. “Oh, so because you didn’t want me, you thought no one else would?” I shot back.

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” she defended.

“Your actions speak for themselves,” I countered.

She almost argued, but stopped herself. Then, in a quieter tone, she confessed, “You’re right, Artie. I didn’t think another woman would be interested. But now that you’ve lost weight…”

She didn’t finish, but the message was clear. When I was overweight, she didn’t worry about other women. Now that I was fit and attractive, it was a problem. Too bad.

“It doesn’t matter, Paige. You’re with Derek.”

A shadow crossed her face as she admitted, “Derek and I broke up a while ago.”

She tried to sound casual, but her expression revealed something deeper. I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want to gloat or offer fake sympathy, so I simply asked, “Why?”

She looked like she wanted to vent, but held back. “People meet, have fun, and then it’s over. Not everyone rides off into the sunset.”

She sighed, sitting on the bed, staring at the floor.

“We were supposed to,” I said quietly, realizing too late that I’d spoken aloud.

“Yeah, we were,” she agreed, her eyes glistening. “But somewhere along the way, we lost the connection. It became all chores, bills, and work.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “Then I messed up, and now everything’s ruined. The twins are struggling, and I’m stuck looking at old photos wishing I could go back. Derek wasn’t our problem. We were. He was just a symptom of the deeper issues in our marriage.”

I sat beside her. “We both let things slip, but we can only move forward from here.”

She turned to me, and the look in her eyes was one I hadn’t seen in a long time. It was almost as if she was seeing me for the first time again. She took a deep breath, grabbed my hand, and said, “I made a mistake giving up on us, on you.”

“Paige,” I began, trying to pull my hand away, but she held on tight.

Her eyes seemed to search my soul, a mix of emotions playing across her face. Then, as if making a sudden decision, she grabbed my face and kissed me. Her hands, once familiar, now pushed me back onto the bed.

“Paige, what are you doing?” I asked, confused.

“Artie, don’t talk. Just do this with me,” she whispered, a coy smile on her face as she kissed my neck.

I almost gave in, but then Derek’s image flashed in my mind, a reminder of our broken relationship.

“No,” I said firmly, gently pushing her away.

She fell back on the bed, surprised. “Artie, no—”

She started, but I interrupted, jumping up like the bed was on fire.

“You can’t keep doing this to me, Paige. I’m not your backup plan. You can’t just come back when things don’t work out with your boyfriend. You threw me away, and you don’t get to change your mind now.”

She sat silently, thinking. Then, in a soft voice, she asked, “Do you still love me?”

I hesitated, caught off guard by the question. My response should have been easy after everything she’d put me through, but it wasn’t. Seeing my hesitation as hope, she approached me, holding both my hands.

“Be honest with yourself. Don’t let pride answer for you.”

I thought about our past, the dates, the wedding, the birth of our twins. I realized I did love that version of Paige, but this Paige, the one who had hurt me so deeply, was different. Yet they were the same person. It was a complicated feeling, but I knew my answer.

“No, I don’t, Paige. Not that way. Not anymore.”

The weight of those words hung in the air. The phrase that had once crushed me now left her devastated. Tears streamed down her face as she backed away from me like I was a stranger. She sat on the bed and cried, and I felt for her.

I knew that pain all too well.

“You’re lying,” she said, refusing to believe me. “I know you still love me.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t,” I said gently. “Too much has happened.”

Her sobs filled the room, and I didn’t know what to do. Comfort her, stand there, or leave. In the end, I just stood there, letting her process her emotions. After a few minutes, she wiped her tears and looked at me with a mix of anger and sadness.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What? No.”

“You’re telling me you don’t love putting me in my place after what I did,” she accused, her words laced with bitterness.

Her words stung, but I reflected for a moment. While I didn’t enjoy her suffering, there was a sense of justice in the air. After everything she’d put me through, it felt like the scales had finally balanced.

“Fine,” I said calmly. “Let’s say I did enjoy it. Could you blame me?”

She looked ready to argue, but I raised my hand to stop her. “Just listen. You gave up on me, Paige. You cheated, ridiculed, and asked for a divorce, but I still stood by you.”

“I didn’t expose you to the kids or make the divorce messy. I let you live your life with Derek without complaining. Even after all that, you didn’t find anything worth fighting for in me. But now, after I lose a few pounds, suddenly you do?”

“It’s not just the weight,” she cut in quickly. “Yes, I’m more attracted to you now, but it’s more than that. You’re different, more confident. You go out and do things. This is the you I’ve been wanting all along.”

That last sentence hit me hard. She wanted me to be someone else because who I was hadn’t been enough for her. She still didn’t get it, and I doubted she ever would. I could have argued with her about how selfish and flawed her logic was, expecting me to change without giving us a chance. But what was the point?

I no longer needed her to see things from my perspective. For the first time, I truly didn’t care what she thought. I was finally free.

“Do us both a favor, Paige,” I said firmly. “Sign the papers. Dragging this out isn’t helping either of us.”

Without waiting for a response, I left the room, hearing her cry as I walked away.

Six months later, it was official. The divorce papers in my hand were the only reminder of my life with Paige, aside from the two kids now arguing over the remote in the living room.

“Josh, Ally, don’t make me come out there,” I called from my bedroom.

Their shouting turned into hushed bickering. I sighed, refolding the documents and slipping them back into the envelope. No matter how much you’ve moved on, the finality of divorce stings. It’s the closing of a chapter, a bittersweet mix of pain and a fresh start.

My phone buzzed with a message from Colleen.

“What are you up to, lover?”

I smiled and texted back, “Thinking of you. Can’t wait to see you again.”

Last night had been our first time together, and the memories brought a grin to my face. We had taken things slow, dating, spending time at each other’s places, even introducing our kids. Paige had been the only one to make a big deal out of it, citing our agreement to keep our relationships away from the kids. Technically, she was right, but we both knew what really bothered her.

I had apologized and promised not to do it again until we were officially divorced, and that day had finally arrived.

“I can’t wait to see you, either,” I replied, remembering the warmth of her body against mine.

Her ex-husband must have been crazy to call her boring. Later, I dropped the kids off at Paige’s. Her puffy eyes told me she had received the same papers. We made brief eye contact before the kids’ chatter pulled her attention.

She gave me a weak smile and closed the door. Driving to my brother’s place, I reflected on life. I’d been spending more time with Lance lately, supporting him as he navigated a significant change in his life. Today was Julie’s baby shower, and though Lance wanted to be there, he didn’t want to be the only guy, so he asked me to join him.

I rearranged my schedule to back him up. I rearranged my schedule to back him up. When I arrived, my mom greeted me with a big smile and a hug.

“Hey, Art.”

“Ladies, it’s my other son, the newly single one,” she called out.

I blushed as the room cheered. After dropping off my gift, I found Julie on the couch.

“Hey, preggers. How’s my nephew?” I joked.

She giggled. “We don’t know yet. It could be your niece.”

Lance interrupted. “It’s a nephew.”

I laughed, teasing him about karma possibly giving him a daughter. As the shower wrapped up, I stayed to help clean up. Mom watched me curiously, then said, “There’s something different about you lately. I can’t explain it, but I like it.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I replied.

She continued. “When I heard Julie was having Lance’s baby, I worried about him. He’s not like you. We never had to worry about you. You were always going to be okay. But Lance, he’s different.”

“Mom, Lance is stronger than you think. He’ll be fine,” I reassured her.

She smiled, tears in her eyes. “I know. I’m proud of both of you.”

She hugged me tightly. When Lance returned, the cleanup was nearly done, and I left, excited for my date with Colleen. As I started my car, the setting sun’s glare made me pull down the visor. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the real me.

Not just a man who’d lost weight or improved his looks, but someone responsible, loving, smart, hardworking, and a good father. I saw a man who genuinely wanted to be good and worked hard for it. That was the real man in the mirror.