First girl meets boy.
They fall in love and live harmoniously for 10 years.
Then boy wants a divorce.
This is the story of Max and Tristan Fletcher and their life together leading up to their eventual marital separation.
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Max
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1 month ago
Tristan typed away at the computer in earnest. A burst of inspiration came an hour ago and he hadn't left his desk since.
The house was silent as he furthered his story. He was nearly done, the story was nearly complete. Once he finished the story he had been working on for four years, he could finally rest easy.
Well that was after his divorce finalized. Next month the judge would finalize the papers and he would be a free man.
Max moved out a couple weeks ago into her new house the he helped her find. She came and got the rest of her stuff early last week and he hadn't seen her since.
Her new place was fully furnished and he offered to pay for the house full price, which she tried to protest but in the end he won. The place wasn't too far from him but it was far enough that when he went on his morning run he wouldn't bump into her getting her mail or something.
The house was different without her around. It wasn't bad or good just… different.
He was used to hearing her Beyoncé music blasting at the most random times. He was used to her clothes being all over the house; her Japanese Cherry Blossom scent in all of the furniture. He never noticed it before but when he would leave rooms he would leave the light on and Max would always go out of her way to turn the lights off.
He would catch himself staring at certain spots in the house where he ravished her until she was a crying, quivering mess. Sometimes he'd get stuck into watching those mind numbing reality shows that she loved — Real Housewives of Atlanta was getting especially messy.
He missed how he'd sometimes wake up with her mouth on his dick. He used to love waking her up from a good Sunday evening nap with his tongue in her pussy.
Sometimes if he sat alone with his thoughts too long he would often question if he did the right thing by serving her with divorce papers. Yes, they had their problems as most couples did but that didn't necessarily mean that they had to get a divorce.
Then he would snap himself out of that self doubt. He did the right thing. Their relationship had been going downhill for a couple years now. Her family knew and Lyle was a first hand witness as Tristan told him literally everything.
Though the final straw that broke the camel's back was her getting her tubes tied without telling him. He agreed that it was her body and she had the right to do with it as she so pleased but they were supposed to be husband and wife.
A decision as big as that should made between husband and wife. If she didn't want kids she could have told him that, and they could have worked through it together but instead she went behind his back. A monstrous betrayal, one he did not think he could forgive so easily.
Tristan did, however, love Max.
He had loved her since he saw her about to have a panic attack on the ferris wheel a decade ago. He had loved her since she made him belly laugh on the ride with her equally as terrible pick-up lines. In that moment he knew he couldn't see his life without her.
But things change and people do too, unfortunately.
He continued to type feverishly on his computer. The resolution was coming up and he couldn't possibly stop now.
He heard the front door of his house open and got ready to get up when he realized it would have to be the only other person who had a key. He focused on his writing and simply waited for his guest to announce their presence.
"Tris, where are you?"
"In the study, babe!"
He heard Max's boots on the hardwood floor coming closer to his study. She knocked on the door then pushed it open, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
"Hey…" She waved.
"Hey…" He spared her a glance and finished typing his sentence then shut down his laptop.
"I came to drop off the key to the house, since I uh… since I don't need it anymore."
"Oh thanks, I completely forgot about that." He placed his hand on the small of back out of instinct and walked to the kitchen. "You want anything to drink or eat?"
"Uh a sandwich and some lemonade would be good." He nodded and proceeded to make them both turkey swiss sandwiches. He knew how she liked hers.
They sat down and ate in their formerly shared dining room. The sound of chewing and swallowing replaced the lack of conversation.
Max broke the silence with, "I wish it didn't have to be like this, Tristan."
"It's better this way," he whispered sadly. He peeped up at her through the fringes of his growing hair. "I see you took your locs out."
She twirled a piece of her hair in her fingers absentmindedly. "Yeah, it was time. I have a hair appointment next week."
"Your hair's longer," he commented.
"So is yours… How's the book going?" She pushed the plate away from her.
"Nearly done. After 4 years of… writer's block." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone, remembering what she said during their counseling session.
"That's ah… that's good. I'm happy for you. I'd love to get the first edition when it's published."
"I'll make sure that you do. I'll deliver it personally." He closed his eyes and tugged on his hair. She nodded.
Tristan sighed. "I hate this. I wish I could hate you but… maybe if I loved you harder… I don't fucking know… "
"What's love got to do with any of this? I did love you, Tristan!" She gasped indignantly.
"The problem wasn't that you didn't love me — I know you loved me. I could see it everytime I made you laugh; everytime I fixed your favorite dish; everytime we made love; everytime I told you I loved you. The problem... was that you didn't love me enough." He stood up, grabbing both plates and putting them in the sink.
Tristan turned his back to her, faced consumed with sadness. He washed the dishes by hand instead of putting them in the dishwasher to give his hands something to do.
Max's shoulders slumped and her arms wobbled as she stood from the dining table. She stuck out her arm in his direction, opening and closing her mouth ready to speak but she had no idea what to say.
She had hurt him. He had hurt her too but he was the one who asked for the divorce. There was nothing more she could do.
She blinked at his back and sighed deeply. She exited the dining room and stood by the front door. She dug the house keys out of her back pocket and tossed them into the bowl.
Tristan heard the door shut and released the breath he had been holding. He would not breathe easy again until their final court date next month.
