The Ghost in My House Was Me - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
You are reading The Ghost in My House Was Me, Chapter 11: Chapter 11. Read more chapters of The Ghost in My House Was Me.
The moment we'd been avoiding finally arrived—divorce papers, two copies, signed in the sterile presence of a lawyer. Just a few thin pages to dissolve years of marriage.
As I pressed my pen to the paper, Kevin hesitated, his voice quiet.
"Haley, once we sign this, there's no going back."
I didn't pause. My signature was firm.
"Goodbye."
I left him the house and Tommy. In exchange, I took what little we had—our joint savings, a measly $77,000 on a single card. Enough to disappear for a while, to breathe, to start over.
Then there was the wedding set—heavy, expensive. Kevin met my eyes.
"I borrowed money to buy that. Keep it." A pause. "Consider it my parting gift."
Good. He was learning to let go too.
The elevator dinged softly as I pressed the button. Behind me, Kevin stood in the doorway, Tommy's small hand clutched in his. My son fidgeted against the frame, fingers picking at the wood—nervous.
Kevin nudged him.
Tommy sprinted forward, crashing into me with a sob.
"Mom, I'll miss you."
I held him tight. Then, slowly, I pulled back, looking straight into his tear-filled eyes.
"Why did you write that you hoped Mom would die in your notebook?"
He froze. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Mom, I was wrong. I'm so sorry."
Behind him, Kevin stood rigid in the doorway. Maybe now he finally understood what I'd been asking all along: Do you see what's happened to our son?
The elevator doors slid open. I ruffled Tommy's hair.
"Mom understands. Go on, back to Dad."
He wailed, clinging to me. "Mom, I want to go with you!"
I peeled his fingers away, one by one.
"You can't. You belong with him."
He let go, but planted himself in the elevator doorway, hiccuping.
"Mom, can you forgive me?"
I smiled.
"No."
His face crumpled. He couldn't believe it—his own mother, refusing him.
I was crying too. My heart shattered for the baby I'd carried, the boy I'd raised. His first words, his first steps, his first day of school—every memory etched into me.
But I couldn't forgive.
I'd taught him right from wrong. I'd swallowed every hurt, every betrayal, for his sake. I'd stayed in this hollow marriage because I loved him too much.
And because I loved him, I couldn't pretend.
The doors closed. Tommy screamed, lunging forward. Kevin caught him, pulling him back.
My precious boy.
This was my last lesson for him:
Some mistakes can't be undone. Some wounds don't heal just because someone says sorry.
I walked away for good.
Sarah waited downstairs, leaning against her car, arms open.
I handed her my suitcase. She tossed it into the trunk with a sigh, then clapped her hands together, grinning.
"So. You finally made up your mind this time."
I smiled—really smiled—for the first time in years.
"In a few days, the divorce will be final."
"You're not taking Tommy?"
"Those two are family. Kevin will take care of him."
Sarah's eyes glistened. She stepped forward, pulling me into a hug.
"Congratulations, Haley."
I buried my face in her shoulder, laughing through tears.
"Sarah, in my next life, I don't want to be a mother. I just want to be me—living for myself, shining my own light."
She squeezed me tighter, her voice soft.
"Haley, you already are."
As I pressed my pen to the paper, Kevin hesitated, his voice quiet.
"Haley, once we sign this, there's no going back."
I didn't pause. My signature was firm.
"Goodbye."
I left him the house and Tommy. In exchange, I took what little we had—our joint savings, a measly $77,000 on a single card. Enough to disappear for a while, to breathe, to start over.
Then there was the wedding set—heavy, expensive. Kevin met my eyes.
"I borrowed money to buy that. Keep it." A pause. "Consider it my parting gift."
Good. He was learning to let go too.
The elevator dinged softly as I pressed the button. Behind me, Kevin stood in the doorway, Tommy's small hand clutched in his. My son fidgeted against the frame, fingers picking at the wood—nervous.
Kevin nudged him.
Tommy sprinted forward, crashing into me with a sob.
"Mom, I'll miss you."
I held him tight. Then, slowly, I pulled back, looking straight into his tear-filled eyes.
"Why did you write that you hoped Mom would die in your notebook?"
He froze. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Mom, I was wrong. I'm so sorry."
Behind him, Kevin stood rigid in the doorway. Maybe now he finally understood what I'd been asking all along: Do you see what's happened to our son?
The elevator doors slid open. I ruffled Tommy's hair.
"Mom understands. Go on, back to Dad."
He wailed, clinging to me. "Mom, I want to go with you!"
I peeled his fingers away, one by one.
"You can't. You belong with him."
He let go, but planted himself in the elevator doorway, hiccuping.
"Mom, can you forgive me?"
I smiled.
"No."
His face crumpled. He couldn't believe it—his own mother, refusing him.
I was crying too. My heart shattered for the baby I'd carried, the boy I'd raised. His first words, his first steps, his first day of school—every memory etched into me.
But I couldn't forgive.
I'd taught him right from wrong. I'd swallowed every hurt, every betrayal, for his sake. I'd stayed in this hollow marriage because I loved him too much.
And because I loved him, I couldn't pretend.
The doors closed. Tommy screamed, lunging forward. Kevin caught him, pulling him back.
My precious boy.
This was my last lesson for him:
Some mistakes can't be undone. Some wounds don't heal just because someone says sorry.
I walked away for good.
Sarah waited downstairs, leaning against her car, arms open.
I handed her my suitcase. She tossed it into the trunk with a sigh, then clapped her hands together, grinning.
"So. You finally made up your mind this time."
I smiled—really smiled—for the first time in years.
"In a few days, the divorce will be final."
"You're not taking Tommy?"
"Those two are family. Kevin will take care of him."
Sarah's eyes glistened. She stepped forward, pulling me into a hug.
"Congratulations, Haley."
I buried my face in her shoulder, laughing through tears.
"Sarah, in my next life, I don't want to be a mother. I just want to be me—living for myself, shining my own light."
She squeezed me tighter, her voice soft.
"Haley, you already are."
End of The Ghost in My House Was Me Chapter 11. Continue reading Chapter 12 or return to The Ghost in My House Was Me book page.