I Divorced Him Over a Bowl of Pasta With Cilantro
Language: en
I brought up divorce the moment Julian came home. He froze, then turned with a weary smile. "Is this still about the cilantro in your pasta that day?" I zipped up my suitcase, nodding noncommittally. "Sure. Let's say it's about that." He hung up his coat and ruffled my hair, a familiar gesture. "Come on, princess. Stop making a fuss. I was just busy and forgot. It was an accident." He reached for me, expecting our usual hug. "How can I make it up to you? Flowers? That new handbag you wanted? Or what about the latest necklace from that designer?" In seven years of marriage, he'd always been…