The Statue That Ended Our Marriage

Summary

When I announced to Lana that I wanted a divorce, the room froze. My father-in-law frowned, asking if it was because she was always locked in her art studio. I said it wasn’t that—it was what she was doing with the replica of the Statue of David.

My mother-in-law exploded, shouting that Lana had severe postpartum depression, that she was just painting, and that we could hire a nanny if needed. Lana, livid, slapped me and swore she hadn’t cheated or betrayed me—she’d just been absorbed in her art lately. Was that really grounds for divorce?

The guests whispered, giving me disgusted looks.