My 1000th Attempt Worked

Every anniversary, Mark had some twisted surprise for me.

Our tenth? He strutted into the ballroom holding hands with an escort wearing straight up lingerie.

"Jenna, she's cold. Hand over your dress."

Then, like that wasn't sick enough: "And the lingerie. She likes your vibe."

I clutched my collar, trying to keep it together. He didn't care—just yanked it open. "Cut the act. Your dad sold you to me, remember? That slutty look you used to give me—I still see it."

Everyone stared, waiting for me to break.

So I did the one thing I could.

"I want a divorce."

Again.