I'm not quite sure exactly how many years it's been. I think it's been six years now. I was eleven or so when the arguments escalated too far. Not like some stupid petty argument over who lost the remote or something. It was the kind of arguments that made the neighbors, let alone the kids, worried. I wasn't sure what to think or feel; all I knew was that they were getting a divorce.

Looking back now, it was clearly for the better. He was selfish, uncaring, and abusive; not only to his wife but but also to his children. We all knew why. It's because he was getting caught. If he had played his cards right then he might've gotten away clean. But the cards were dealt and he didn't have a good hand, to say the least. This wasn't the first time or even the second time either. More importantly, it needed to stop; and since he wouldn't change, she would have to make a move.

The abuse would have to stop. Don't get me wrong though, it wasn't physical abuse. No one was getting beaten. No, the abuse was emotional, and it hurt. The feeling of an empty seat at the dinner table. The lone piece fried chicken sizzles alone in the frying pan. The rice overcooks, awaiting to settle down on a plate and be consumed. But no one would. Everyone there had their fill. They had they're portion of the meal and awited for the man who would never come to finish off the rest. It's wasn't the fact that he never came that disapointed, or rather angered, her. It was what he did when he wasn't home that really ticked her off. She didn't have any conclusive evidence though because he isn't as sloppy as he used to be. However, to everyone's suprise, the evidence came to her.

The most suprising turn of events was sitting at her doorstep. It was there and real as could be. Delivered right on top of the welcome mat was a large cardboard box filled with clothes. His clothes. She instantly recognized every one of them. Shirts and pants and what not that have been missing from his closet for who knows how long. As she reached for the clothes, she almost didn't realize the white piece of paper sitting at the top of the mess. Her hands shaking, she snatched the parchment and stared blanky at it for a moment. She knew there was something written on the other side, she just wasn't sure if she wanted to read it. It only took a full second for her to turn it over and discover who the mysterious deliverer was. If her children weren't at school and if he wasn't suposed business trip, then someone would've been there to witness her cry on the floor. Crying next to that damned apology letter from his mistress. From her husband's other woman.

The rest of the story is, as they say, history. It wasn't long before a divorce was called for and quickly put into effect. It really should've been done sooner but she was too kind. Always giving him another chance. It really hurt having to be in the middle of it all but I really shouldn't complain. As her son, I know that she was hurt most of all. There is really no feeling worse than to be tossed aside and betrayed like that. That's all in the past though and everyone's moved on. Not everyone is happy but at least no one has to talk about it any longer. So this might not have been the happiest ending but that's the way life rolls. All I know is the future looks brighter than the past.