Chapter Nine #2
Those memories are forever etched into my soul.
I learned that you eventually do get into a rhythm, and that happened right before Liam turned two.
Atlas would come home, dinner would be done, and Liam would be napping longer, so I could quickly get the chores done while he was asleep. I finally felt like I had it all together.
That's probably the first time I felt like a good wife and mother.
Time passed, we lived and loved, but somewhere along the way, even as my life grew bigger, I could feel myself shrinking. I just didn't fully recognize it because being a wife and mother kept me too busy to notice.
Then we moved into the new house that Atlas bought.
Then I got pregnant with Noah.
Going from one child to two was hard, even with Liam being older and more independent. That was heartbreaking enough in its own way, facing the fact that my baby didn't need me as much anymore.
It's strange how you long for that moment, and then when it comes, it aches. Noah demanded so much of me that I didn't have time to dwell on that hurt, or on anything else, really.
Life became routine, and as the boys grew and developed their own hobbies and interests, I adjusted as needed.
Atlas was always there, always the fun parent and a great dad to our boys. I remember looking at him, thinking about how lucky I was to have a husband who was such an involved father.
Was he involved, or was he just being a father to his kids? Because if I'm honest, when Atlas stepped back this last year, what really changed?
Aside from him no longer sitting beside me at Liam's basketball games or Noah's art shows... not much.
And this isn't only on him.
It's on me, too.
I should have spoken up sooner. I should have recognized what was happening before it got this far. I didn't, because I didn't know something was wrong.
But it's my responsibility to demand better for my kids. I own that, and I'll do better.
That's the entire reason I'm sitting in this office right now.
"I'm sorry, I just..." Imani shakes her head, clearing her throat, professionalism settling back into place. "I see this a lot. It's one of the main reasons women end up sitting in that chair, consulting me."
"No, it's... I'm another one of those women, I guess," I clear my throat. "What are my next steps, Imani?"
"Step one," she says firmly, her voice steady with the kind of confidence that comes from someone who's done this a million times.
"We file for legal separation today. This creates enforceable legal boundaries and formally establishes that the marriage, as it currently exists, cannot continue.
Like I said, our state requires twelve consecutive months of complete separation before a divorce can be finalized. Once he's served, that clock starts."
Imani types a few more things on her computer while continuing to talk to me.
"Once we file, standing domestic orders go into effect automatically. That means neither of you can drain bank accounts, cancel insurance policies, rack up shared debt, dispose of marital assets, or make unilateral financial decisions without the other's consent or a court order."
I clear my throat, straightening in my seat.
"I want to remain in the house, with the boys. I don't want to disturb their routine any more than it already is. I've already talked to his parents about him staying there. Will that be okay?"
Imani's eyes meet mine, and she arches her brow, "Do you think he'll agree to that?"
Today, when I walked into their house to drop off the boys, I was immediately wrapped up in Emmett's bear hug.
Obviously, Diane had let him know what was going on, and he did not seem pleased with his son. He murmured that everything would be okay, and then growled something about putting his size fourteen straight up his ass.
I'd been too busy clapping my hands over Noah's ears to shield his delicate little sensibilities while watching Liam nearly pee himself laughing.
They didn't really know who the him their grandfather was talking about, but the growling tone and curse words were funny enough to my boys.
Diane had kissed my cheek and told me good luck with the consultation as Emmett shepherded the boys outside to play.
Before I left, though, Liam shot me a look over his shoulder; it was soft, knowing, and oddly steady for a young teenager, as if he had some idea where I was going. It was one of the things that gave me the strength to walk through the doors.
Maybe my son does understand, in a way.
"I don't think he'll have a choice," I admit to Imani now. "I think he'll go. And if he refuses..." I pause, giving her a pointed look. "I think his mother and father will convince him. In their way."
"Huh..." Imani smirks, amused. "I like the sound of them."
I smile. "They're great."
Imani snaps back into business without missing a beat, the warmth still there but the focus sharpened.
"When he responds to the filing through his attorney, we'll request temporary orders—custody, child support, and spousal support.
The court will review his income, pay stubs, benefits, retirement accounts, and overall financial picture.
Full financial disclosure will be mandatory.
He won't be able to hide anything, so if he has a secret account he's been using, we'll find that too. "
I nod in understanding, but my stomach coils tight at the implication. The thought of him hiding anything from me—a secret account, money funneled away, used on someone else—makes my chest constrict.
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to picture this potentially fictional, younger, beautiful woman with my husband. My stomach rolls violently, and I force myself to breathe through the nausea.
Imani asks softly, "Are you okay?"
I nod, wordlessly. Imani pages her assistant to get me some water, and I gratefully take it, realizing it contains mint leaves that help soothe my stomach.
"You think of everything," I rasp, gesturing to the water.
"When you've been doing this as long as I have," she shrugs, casually. "You pick up a thing or two. Would you like me to continue?"
I nod.
"The judge will make an equitable decision based on what is fair.
Let me be very clear, Wendy: you are owed money.
You didn't just stop working, you raised a family and managed a household.
The only reason Atlas could work the hours he did—especially now—is because you were managing the children and the home. "
I know this, and I'm not arguing it. I'm not going to continue to martyr myself anymore. I will get what my children deserve, what I deserve. I'm going to continue working to make my own money to support my children on my end, while Atlas supports them on his.
Co-parenting, partnership. Not married anymore, but we share two children, so we'll be forever linked no matter what.
"And the court will look very favorably on you getting a job," Imani adds, her smile warm and encouraging. "Very favorably. Getting a job demonstrates initiative, responsibility, and an intent to contribute. That works in your favor—it does not absolve him of spousal or child support obligations."
I allow that praise to settle around me, along with the quiet, inward pride blooming in my chest.
"So," she asks gently but decisively, "do you want me to proceed?"
I don't even need to think. All I've been doing is thinking. What I need right now is to act.
For my sons, and for myself.
I nod.
"Yes."
Imani's smile spreads across her face, slow and proud, and looking like someone who's smelled blood in the water.
And I find myself smiling too, happy that I have this fierce woman on my team.