Rebirth: My Wife Filed for Divorce-So I Married Her Tsundere Sister First, She Went Insane

The champagne glass slipped from my fingers, shattering against the marble floor of our Cherry Creek penthouse. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Denver's skyline glittered like scattered diamonds, but all I could focus on were the divorce papers spread across our Italian leather dining table. Jessica's signature was already there, bold and decisive, next to a yellow sticky note that read: "Marcus - I'm done pretending.

My lawyer will contact you. " Before we jump back in, tell us where you're tuning in from, and if this story touches you, make sure you're subscribed—because tomorrow, I've saved something extra special for you! Six years of marriage, reduced to legal documents and a Post-it note. But that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was discovering those papers while Jessica was upstairs, laughing on a video call with her sister Emma, saying words that would haunt me forever: "Trust me, Em, Marcus is so predictable.

He'll probably cry, beg me to reconsider, maybe even threaten to hurt himself. These sensitive guys are all the same. I've already got Brandon lined up – he's got that new Tesla dealership and doesn't waste time on feelings. " Standing there in my scrubs, still exhausted from a twelve-hour shift helping stroke patients regain their mobility, I realized my wife saw me as nothing more than a pathetic cliché. The man who had worked double shifts to pay for her MBA, who had postponed his own dreams of opening a sports rehabilitation clinic, who had been there through every career crisis and family drama – I was just predictable Marcus, the emotional burden she was finally ready to discard.

The next morning arrived with the kind of crisp October air that usually energized me for my runs through Washington Park. Instead, I sat at our kitchen island, staring at my untouched coffee while Jessica moved around me like I was invisible furniture. She was dressed in her power suit – the charcoal gray Armani I'd bought her for her promotion – and her auburn hair was pulled back in that severe bun she wore when she meant business.

"I assume you've seen the papers," she said without looking up from her phone, her fingers flying across the screen in what I assumed was another text conversation with Brandon. The casual indifference in her voice was more cutting than any screaming match could have been. "Jessica, we need to talk about this.