I’ve never believed in signs up until that moment. I was reading a collection of short stories, when I saw his name with big black letters.
I wanted to turn the page, but he was there. I couldn’t. It was as he was watching me, begging me to stay.
I knew it was wrong. I was married, once happily. We stopped loving each other a long time ago, but still I couldn’t find the strength in me to ask for a divorce. My husband didn’t seem to care anymore.
And he was there, wanting me, needing me. He, with his soft lips and tender voice. I was his in any way possible, body and soul, but not on paper. I was someone else’s wife.
I’ve never believed in signs until I saw his name with big black letters. The next day I asked for a divorce. I wanted to be his, even on paper.
M. Stefanova, 10 January 2013