I had the impression that I was arriving at my house. This time, however, I found myself in a nightmare. My stuff, including my clothes, were thrown out onto the street as if they were garbage.
I looked up, and I saw that it was not my husband who had kicked me out of the house. It was his mistress, who was under the impression that she had triumphed. On the other hand, karma never fails to collect its debts.
Aged fifteen years. This is the length of time that I was married to Jett. Fifteen years of constructing a house, bringing up our two children, and having the conviction that we were a unit.
When I returned home one day, I saw that EVERYTHING that I owned had been discarded on the street in boxes. As strangers passed by, I remained there motionless, observing my existence as if it were nothing more than worthless garbage. Everything from my wedding dress to my shoes, as well as the homemade cards that my children had prepared, was strewn over the ground as if I had never existed.
A person walking by slowed down and looked at me with compassion. How are you doing, ma’am? I was unable to talk.
My life was strewn across the grass, and the Mother’s Day cards that my children had written were falling out of a shoebox that had been torn. After that, the entrance door opened. Yes, she was there.
It is vada. The mistress of Jett. She was young, conceited, and stunning, and she was standing at my doorway as if she owned it.
She tilted her head and folded her arms across her chest. “Kaya, you now no longer reside at this location. Take all of your belongings with you and leave.
I took a deep breath in, my heart beating rapidly. “What exactly do you mean? Where will Jett be?
Jett appeared, appearing unfazed by something. The expression on his face was icy and reserved, as if I were a stranger rather than the woman who had loved him for more than a decade. What exactly is this?
I made a demand while pointing to my belongings. Jett heaved a sigh and seemed to be stroking his temples as if I were the issue. “I have finished, Kaya.
I have gone on with my life. The same goes for you. It was as if his words were a weapon.
Have you moved on? Is that the case now? In a hushed tone, I said, “Fifteen years,” my voice breaking.
Jett, it’s been fifteen years. All of it was genuine, was it? Do you ever consider me to be more than a disposable item?
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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