Fai
Whoever said love at first sight was a myth hadn't laid eyes on Sarah Martin. My wife.
Ex-wife.
When you meet the love of your life, you think that's it. You think you'll grow old together, buy a house, build a family… build a life together. You believe with your whole heart that you've made it, that you're set.
At least, when I met Sarah, I thought my life was made. Even before a word was exchanged, I had already seen our future play out in my mind—images of a life filled with love and laughter flashing through my head.
From that first moment, when she accidentally knocked into me on her way out of the psychology building on our university campus, I knew she was the one. Her arms were piled high with textbooks, headphones in her ears, probably blasting yet another folk artist she had recently discovered. Her hair was styled in intricate cornrows, her chocolate-brown skin glowing in the evening light, and those goddamned chocolate eyes captivated me for life with just one look.
Sarah was everything I had ever dreamed of and everything I thought I would never have. Not in this cruel world.
She had apologized after knocking into me, her voice smooth as silk. I helped her pick up her books and couldn't stop myself from inviting her to a local bar, but she promptly turned me down. To my surprise, it wasn't because she had no interest in me, it was because she was only eighteen, which was unexpected given that she was already in graduate school, working toward her PhD. I knew at that moment she was lightyears out of my league.
We ended up at a pizza joint that was open twenty-four hours. The checkered linoleum floors were cracked, one of the lights had a perpetual flicker, and the pizza was more grease than food, but it was perfect. Sarah made it perfect.
Shewas everything good.Iwas everything bad.
I was the reason we were here. Sixteen years after that first date, ten years of marriage later, and it was all coming to an end. That life of growing old in each other's arms, surrounded by whatever family we had made, was over because of a lifetime of bad choices I couldn't stop making.
Sixteen years had passed, but Sarah was somehow even more beautiful today. Her hair in braids, her skin still glowing, and now her chocolate eyes wet with unshed tears she refused to let fall. This divorce wasn't happening because she had stopped loving me. I was drowning and pulling her down with me. This divorce was the only way to free her, to let her surface from the sea of chaos I had unknowingly set us adrift in.
"Mr. Acharya?" My lawyer tried to get my attention in a whispered tone, but my attention was glued to Sarah as her slender fingers held the pen that sealed my fate as she scrawled her name.
Sarah Martin.
"Faizal," my lawyer whispered again. She was a young woman, at least younger than my thirty-eight years, with sweeping blonde hair. She had come recommended by one of my employees, not that I needed her. I had given everything to Sarah in the divorce. I didn't want any of it. Not without her.
How could I walk through the house we had made a home without her nearby?
How could I live the life we had built together without her in it? The very same life I had destroyed.
All I was taking with me were my clothes, my books, and the wedding ring that would forever sit heavy in my pocket. No longer needed, but never forgotten.
"Fai," Sarah said softly, her voice finally pulling my attention. My eyes snapped to hers, and her smile that had always been present, even on my darkest days, was as soft as ever. "It's your turn to sign."
She slid the papers across the mahogany conference table. I took them from her, resisting the urge to wrap her hand in mine one last time. But that wouldn't be fair to her. I would only be holding on to remember the warmth she had given me, the love she had so willingly shared. I would just be taking from her, and I refused to take anything more.
She deserved better fromme. She deserved betterthanme.
I stared at the papers for a moment before scrawling my name on each line my lawyer directed. I had read through them a number of times and knew what each line said, but none adequately explained the destruction they were causing. Thesepapers, this conglomeration of legalese, was the end of the only life I had ever wanted.
I stopped at the last line. The final signature. Her name was already listed, and I added mine next to it.
Sarah Martin | Faizal Acharya
"That's everything we needed," Sarah's lawyer said, promptly taking the papers from me and handing them to who I assumed was his assistant. They would be filed with the courts, and we would receive our final documentation in a few months. "We appreciate your cooperation." His voice was laced with disdain.
He hated me.
I had to hold back a scoff. His hatred was justifiable. I had shown up at his office drunk off my ass after initially receiving the divorce petition, and I didn't even remember what I had said—but I knew enough to realize it hadn't been kind nor fair. He hadn't liked me since.
I stood, shrugging my jean jacket on over my hoodie and pulling the hood up over my head like armor, ready to face the never-ending rain of Oregon. Sarah always said I perpetually lived in my hoodies, hiding from the world within them. Maybe she was right, but it was safer to stay hidden than to show vulnerability.
I wandered out of the conference room and down the stairs toward my freedom, toward the hope of finally waking from this relentless nightmare. The building hadn't helped either. Too shiny, too new for someone like me. The moment my foot hit the hard pavement of the sidewalk, I took a breath.
One so deep it filled my lungs and my soul. My head tilted back as the rain fell softly, blanketing my skin. Maybe it could washaway my sins, a baptism by the gods above as they rained down their disappointment on me.
