As I left the lawyer’s office, rain pouring down around me, I appeared defeated. But beneath my subdued exterior, I was buzzing with excitement. The elevator door closed, and I burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the steel walls.
My divorce from Mike had been a long time coming. Our marriage had crumbled under the weight of his obsession with material possessions. He wanted the grand house, luxury cars, and designer clothes. I, on the other hand, yearned for freedom from his suffocating grip.
The divorce proceedings were grueling, but I remained calm, knowing exactly what I was doing. Mike demanded everything – the savings, car, and house. I agreed, seemingly meekly. He thought he’d won.
Little did he know, I had a plan.
Years ago, my mother had helped us purchase the house. Mike was blind to the contract’s fine print, which allowed her to reside there whenever she pleased. I had been waiting for this moment.
As I settled into my new apartment, I made the call to my mother. “It’s time,” I said, my voice barely containing my grin.
The next morning, Mike’s enraged voice echoed through my phone. “You set me up!” he shouted, realizing too late that my mother had taken over the house.
I savored the moment, biting into my toast as I listened to Mike’s despair. My mother’s voice cut through the phone, stern and unyielding, as she asserted her claim on the house.
“You betrayed me!” Mike spat, but I simply smiled. “Do you remember the contract?” I asked, knowing he had signed away his rights.
The sound of my mother’s firm tone, followed by a loud crash and Mike’s muffled curses, was music to my ears. The phone went dead, and I collapsed into laughter.
For the first time in years, I felt truly free. Mike had underestimated me, thinking I’d crumble in defeat. But I had outsmarted him, and now I could start anew.
As I sat at my small kitchen table, surrounded by the simplicity I had always craved, I realized that sometimes, the greatest victories come from playing the long game. And I had played it perfectly.
