Updated Nov 23, 2025 • ~7 min read
Kimberly Fielding’s office, Tuesday morning.
She looked tired. “I have news. None of it good.”
I braced myself. “What now?”
“Jeremy’s lawyer filed a motion to dismiss your divorce petition.” She slid paperwork across her desk. “He’s arguing attempted reconciliation. Citing your recent public displays of affection.”
My face burned. “That was one kiss!”
“That was photographed evidence you two are resuming the marital relationship.” Kimberly pointed to attached exhibits—the Instagram photos, witness statements from the gala. “His lawyer is very good. And very thorough.”
“So what does this mean?”
“It means the judge wants to see you both. Thursday. To determine if the marriage can be salvaged before granting dissolution.” She met my eyes. “Rose, be prepared. The judge might order couples therapy.”
“Absolutely not!”
“It’s standard in contested divorces where reconciliation seems possible. Six to eight sessions. If you still want the divorce after, they’ll fast-track it.”
I wanted to scream. “This is exactly what Jeremy wants. More time. More ways to manipulate—”
“Then maybe you should stop kissing him at public events,” Kimberly said dryly.
She had a point.
Thursday arrived with dread coiling in my stomach.
Jeremy met me outside the courthouse, looking unfairly good in a charcoal suit.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“Furious.”
“I’ll take furious.” He opened the door. “After you, wife.”
The courtroom was smaller than expected. Judge Savanna Fairfield presided—mid-sixties, sharp eyes, no-nonsense expression.
“Mr. Patterson. Ms. Greenwood. Please approach.”
We stood before her, side by side. His arm brushed mine. I refused to move away.
“I’ve reviewed both filings,” Judge Fairfield said. “Ms. Greenwood seeks divorce citing irreconcilable differences from a marriage that ended five years ago. Mr. Patterson contests, stating the marriage never actually ended and recent events suggest reconciliation is underway.”
“Your Honor, that’s not—” I started.
She held up a hand. “Ms. Greenwood, I have photographs of you kissing your husband at a public event last weekend. Care to explain?”
My face went nuclear. “That was a mistake—”
“Was it? Because it looks fairly intentional.”
Jeremy bit back a smile.
“Furthermore,” the judge continued, “you’ve been living separate lives for five years, yet Mr. Patterson never signed the divorce papers. The court finds this situation… unusual.”
“That’s because he deliberately—” I caught myself.
“Deliberately what? Held onto hope his marriage could be saved?” Judge Fairfield looked between us. “Here’s my ruling. Before I grant any divorce, you will attend court-mandated couples counseling. Six sessions minimum. If after that you still want to dissolve the marriage, I’ll expedite the process.”
“Your Honor—” Kimberly objected.
“My ruling stands. Contact information for approved therapists will be sent to your lawyers.” She banged her gavel. “Next case.”
Outside, I rounded on Jeremy. “You planned this!”
“I planned to fight for us. If that means therapy, fine.” He looked infuriatingly calm. “Unless you’re afraid of what we might discover?”
“I’m not afraid!”
“Then what’s the problem? Six sessions. If you still want the divorce after, you get it faster than if we’d fought in court.”
“The problem is you manipulating the legal system!”
“I’m using available options. Big difference.” He stepped closer. “Besides, maybe therapy isn’t a bad idea. We never did it before. Maybe we should have.”
Damn him for making sense.
“Fine. Six sessions. But I’m picking the therapist.”
“Deal.”
I chose Dr. Laurel Henning—recommended by Julie, no-nonsense approach, zero tolerance for manipulation.
Our first session was the following Tuesday.
Dr. Henning’s office was warm, comfortable, designed to put people at ease. She was fifties, kind eyes, professional demeanor.
“Before we begin, ground rules.” She settled into her chair. “This is a safe space. No yelling, no storming out, no physical contact used as distraction. We’re here to communicate, not perform. Understood?”
“Yes,” we both said.
“Good. Let’s start with the basics. Roselyn, why do you want a divorce?”
I looked at Jeremy. At five years of hurt and confusion. “Because our marriage didn’t work. We were too young, too different. He prioritized work over me. I felt invisible.”
“And why now? After five years?”
“Because I thought we were divorced. I moved on. Got engaged to someone else. Then Jeremy showed up saying he never signed the papers.”
Dr. Henning turned to Jeremy. “Why didn’t you sign?”
“Because I love her.” Simple. Direct. “I failed her as a husband. I know that. But I never stopped loving her. And I thought if I signed, I’d be admitting it was truly over. I wasn’t ready to do that.”
“So you kept her legally bound to you without her knowledge or consent?”
Put that way, it sounded awful.
Jeremy’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t think of it like that. I just… couldn’t let go.”
“That’s not love,” I said. “That’s obsession.”
“Is it?” Dr. Henning asked. “Or is it someone who made a mistake and wants a chance to fix it?”
“At what cost? I’ve lost my fiancé, my privacy, my professional reputation—”
“You kissed him,” Dr. Henning interrupted. “At a public event. That wasn’t Jeremy’s doing.”
I flushed. “That was a moment of weakness.”
“Or honest expression of lingering feelings.” She made notes. “Roselyn, do you still love Jeremy?”
“I—” The words stuck. “I don’t know.”
“That’s not a no.”
“It’s not a yes either!”
“But it’s not a no,” Jeremy said quietly.
Dr. Henning leaned forward. “Let’s talk about why the marriage failed. Jeremy, you said you prioritized work. Why?”
“My father was a failure. Financially, professionally, as a husband. My mother divorced him when I was ten because he couldn’t provide.” Jeremy’s hands clenched. “I swore I’d never be him. So I worked obsessively, built success, proved I could provide. But in the process, I became exactly what I feared—a terrible husband who lost his wife.”
The raw honesty caught me off-guard.
“And you, Roselyn. Why did you leave instead of fighting?”
“Because my parents fought. For years. It was ugly and awful and ended in divorce anyway. I learned that fighting for a dying marriage just prolongs the pain.” I twisted my hands. “When things got bad with Jeremy, I left before it could get worse.”
“So you both brought parental trauma to a young marriage and never dealt with it.” Dr. Henning set down her pen. “Jeremy worked obsessively to avoid his father’s failure. Roselyn ran to avoid her parents’ ugly divorce. Neither of you actually communicated about any of this.”
We sat in silence.
“For next session, homework,” Dr. Henning said. “Jeremy, I want you to write down three specific ways you failed Roselyn during your marriage. Be brutally honest.”
“Done.”
“Roselyn, same assignment. Three ways you failed Jeremy.”
“I didn’t—” I stopped. “Fine.”
“And both of you need to answer this question: If you could go back to your wedding day knowing everything that would happen, would you still marry each other?”
That night, I sat at my kitchen table with blank paper.
Three ways I failed Jeremy.
The words felt wrong. He was the workaholic. The absent one. How had I failed?
But Dr. Henning’s voice echoed: You never actually communicated.
I started writing.
1. I never told you how bad things were until I was already gone. I expected you to read my mind instead of using my words.
2. I ran instead of fighting. When things got hard, I chose protection over vulnerability.
3. I never understood why work mattered so much to you. I saw it as competition instead of asking about your father and what you were running from.
The last one hurt to write. Because it was true.
I’d known about Jeremy’s dad. Known the divorce had been ugly. But I’d never connected it to his workaholism. Never tried to understand the why behind his behavior.
I’d just taken it personally.
My phone buzzed. Jeremy.
Did you do the homework?
Yes. You?
Yes. Want to share?
Absolutely not
Scared?
No
Liar. See you next session, Rose.
I stared at my three failures, at all the ways our marriage had been doomed by two kids too scared to be honest.
And I wondered: If we’d had this therapy five years ago, would it have worked?
Or were we just too broken from the start?
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