My husband said he was going to Toronto for a two-year work assignment. I saw him off in tears. But the moment I got home, I transferred the entire $650,000 from our savings and filed for divorce.

“Yes, Mom. The company is sending him,” I said calmly.

“Then what about you? Will you be okay at home alone?” my mom asked, her voice full of worry.

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”

“But two years is a long time. Maybe you should go with him.”

“Mom, my job is here. I can’t just quit. Besides, he’s going for work, not to live there permanently. There’s no point in me going.”

My mom sighed. “I guess so. Well, you have to take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, Mom.”

After hanging up, I smiled bitterly. I couldn’t imagine how heartbroken my mom would be if she knew I was about to get divorced.

But I had no regrets. It was better to end a loveless marriage than to suffer in it.

When I got home, Mark was packing. A large suitcase was filled with clothes and toiletries.

“Hannah, come see if I’ve missed anything,” he asked, turning to me.

I walked over and glanced inside. “Looks like you have everything.”

“Great.” He zipped up the suitcase. “I leave tomorrow. Let’s go out for a nice dinner tonight. A little farewell celebration.”

“Okay.” I forced a smile.

We went to a fancy restaurant downtown. It was where we had our first date and where we always celebrated our anniversary. Mark ordered red wine, steak, and my favorite tiramisu.

“Hannah, it’s going to be tough on you for these two years,” he said, raising his glass. “When I get back, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

I raised my glass and clinked it against his. “I’ll be waiting.”

The wine was bittersweet, just like our marriage—sweet on the surface, but bitter underneath.

“Oh, after I leave, if you need money for anything, just take it from the joint account,” Mark said. “I left plenty in there for you.”

I almost burst out laughing.

There was barely anything left in that account now, and he was telling me he’d left me plenty.

“Okay, I will,” I said, focusing on cutting my steak.

“Hannah.” Mark suddenly grabbed my hand. “I know you’ll be lonely these next two years, but you have to wait for me. We have such a strong relationship. We can get through this.”

I looked into his eyes, which were filled with sincerity. If I hadn’t seen the evidence, I would have actually believed him.

“I’ll wait for you,” I said.

We came home late that night. Mark had a lot to drink and spent the entire ride home talking about his plans for the future.

He said when he came back, we’d upgrade to a bigger house.

He said when he came back, we’d go to the Maldives for a second honeymoon.

He said when he came back, we’d have a baby.

Listening to his words, I felt nothing but irony. He would probably fulfill all those promises with Claire.

I was just a stepping stone in his life.

The morning I took Mark to the airport, I put on extra makeup, especially dark eyeshadow, to make my crying look more convincing. Mark pulled his suitcase while I held his arm.

We looked like any other loving couple, playing out a scene of painful farewell.

“Hannah, don’t cry. Two years will be over before you know it,” Mark said, wiping my tears.

“I know. I just can’t bear to see you go,” I sobbed.

“Silly girl.” He hugged me. “You have to take care of yourself. I’ll call you all the time.”