“I’m going to divorce my husband”
Nina said aloud while wiping concealer from her jaw in front of the bathroom mirror. The word didn’t shock her anymore. They had been in her mind for weeks now, coming slowly at first and then with the weight of inevitability. Nina wasn’t unhappy in her marriage, at least not in the traditional sense. Her husband, Mark, was stable and affectionate. They’ve been married for eight years, had two kids and a tidy home in a clean suburb. But ever since Morgan returned everything Lena once saw as “enough” began to feel embracingly average.
Morgan is Nina’s ex best friend. The two of then had grown inseparable during college, only to fall out over a disagreement that Nina barely remembered the details of now. Something about a betrayal and words said in anger. They drifted, unfollowed each other and deleted. That should have been the end. Except Morgan moved back to town two months ago.
The first time Nina saw her again, it was at the market. Morgan was in a trench coat, tan boots, sunglasses and a bag that probably cost more than Nina’s monthly grocery budget. They didn’t speak to each other, just a flicker of eye contact. But that was all Nina needed to turn her life into a private scoreboard, and started her own competition with Morgan. From that day on, Nina found herself taking mental notes.
Starting with Morgan’s car, it was an electric SUV. Nina made Mark test drive three different ones until he finally relented and bought one that they couldn’t afford without trimming their savings. Then Morgan’s home, it was ultra-modern and minimalist. Nina started decluttering ruthlessly, throwing out pieces she ones loved. Morgan’s daughter went to a private art academy; within weeks, Nina enrolled her daughter in a pricey weekend music conservatory.
It wasn’t about admiration, it was about winning, showing Morgan that she is living a far more better life than her. Every encounter fed Nina’s obsession. Morgan’s Instagram was filled with pictures of her success like solo trips to Italy, glossy dinner parties and public speaking at big events. Nina pored over every post like it was a challenge handed directly to her. The final straw came last week, she read it in a local magazine article, it said, “Meet the woman redefining independence”. Morgan pictures was in the front page, titled as the vice chairwoman of the Haven circle, an organization for divorced women rebuilding their lives with clarity and confidence.
Vice chairwoman.
Nina read the article three times, that she even barely noticed Mark walk in to ask about dinner. That night she started researching. Haven circle wasn’t just a support group, it was a highly curated network for divorced and influential women, speakers, business owners and designers. Nina saw a gap. A missing piece in the leadership structure. The chairwoman had recently relocated to Europe so the position was soon to be open.
Morgan was the vice. That meant Morgan expected to move up to chairwoman. Nina wanted the position more, and didn't want Morgan to have it either. To do that, she had to qualify and that meant ending her marriage.
She told herself that her reasoning was more than envy but was ambition. She had been living beneath her potential for too long, stuck in routines and hiding beneath the safety of Mark’s ordinary love. And maybe she had been using him as a shield against daring and this wasn’t about Morgan at all. Still, she knew it was a lie. It had always been about Morgan. The next morning, she drafted a message to a divorce lawyer. But before hitting the send button, her phone buzz with a text from her sister.
“Saw your last pic, you okay?? You seem tense lately” Nina stared at the message and replied with “I’m fine. Really.” Immediately followed a text saying “whatever it is, don’t sweat it, okay??. Try relaxing and refocusing”. But Nina was already sweating it but she was fine or at least she believed she would be, once the transition was completed and once she was seated where Morgan never expected her to be. At the top.
If her life has become a race, then this would be her finish line. Not a breakdown or a cry for help. Just… strategy. She turned off the bathroom light, stepped into her room and started her business of dismantling her marriage with clean hands, a clear head and a heart that isn’t filled with aches but hunger.
Image was generated using META AI
