My Copycat Divorce Went Wrong Chapter 1

I spent my entire life following my best friend’s lead. Wherever she went, I followed.

She applied for civil service jobs, so did I.

She quit to start her own business, so I joined her company.

She got married, so I married his brother.

She got a divorce, so I went straight home and asked for one, too.

With bloodshot eyes, she grabbed me by the neck and yelled, "I didn't actually go through with it! Why the hell did you divorce?"

I replied, "If you leave, I leave. We’ve been best friends for thirty years—when have I ever lagged behind?"

* * *

My name is Belinda Howard, and I am thirty-one.

If you asked me what the best decision of my life was, I’d tell you it was following my best friend, Regina, blindly.

In elementary school, she signed up for advanced math prep. I did too. She ended up winning a state medal, and while I walked away empty-handed, I at least learned how to solve for "x".

In middle school, she joined the swim team. I followed. She became the school champion. I nearly drowned, but hey, my lung capacity improved.

When it came to picking high school tracks, she went with AP physics and calculus. I struggled through the same classes. She graduated near the top of our class, while I barely scraped by near the bottom—but being in the same classes meant I always had a front-row seat to copy her homework.

When college came around, she got accepted into Boston University. My SAT scores were hundreds of points lower, but I managed to get into a small community college just a fifteen-minute bike ride away from her dorm, close enough to steal her meal-plan food.

After graduation, she applied for a government job. I did too. She passed and got hired; I failed. But I ended up setting up a bagel cart right outside her office building. It felt like we were still working together, in a way.

Two years later, when she quit her secure job to launch an e-commerce startup, I didn't hesitate for a single second. I sold the bagel cart and joined her.

When she made her first million, I got a slice of the pie and managed to build up a decent savings account of my own.

Later, she married Jackie.

Jackie had a younger brother named Chris.

Regina pointed at Chris and said to me, "Belinda, he's a good one. Go get him."

I said, "Okay."

And just like that, I got married.

For thirty years, whatever path she paved, I walked.

It had worked beautifully.

Until that day.

It was exactly 2:47 PM when Regina sent me a text.

Three words: "I filed divorce."

I dropped my fork into my instant mac and cheese, not even waiting for the cheese powder to dissolve.

I picked up my phone and typed back: "Wait for me."

Then I drove straight home.

When I walked through the door, Chris was lounging on the couch, wearing a sheet mask and watching some trashy reality TV. Seeing me home in the middle of the day, he turned his head.

"What are you doing back?" he asked.

I took a deep breath, standing in the entryway, and used what I thought was my most serious, solemn voice. "Chris, we should get a divorce."

The living room fell dead silent for three seconds.

Chris peeled back half the sheet mask, exposing one side of his face. His eyes blinked.

Then he said, "Okay."

I froze.

I thought he’d cry.

Or scream.

Or ask me why.

Or throw something.

Instead, he just said "okay".

It wasn't a desperate, heart-shattered kind of "okay".

It was the kind of "okay" you whisper when you finally get the shipping notification for a package you've been waiting on for months.

He actually stood up, half-masked, and ran into the bedroom to start pulling open drawers.

I stood there in the living room, completely stunned, listening to him yell from the bedroom, "Our marriage certificate and tax files are in the second drawer of the entryway table! Grab them, I'll pack a bag, and we can head to the courthouse right now."

My mouth dry, I managed to say, "You... aren't going to ask why?"

Chris poked his head out of the bedroom door, the mask still clinging to one cheek. He looked at me with an eerie, steady calm. "Belinda, if you're actually the one initiating this, I'm not asking any questions. I’m just afraid if I ask, you’ll change your mind."

A strange, undefinable feeling crept into my chest.

But there was no time to analyze it.

My best friend was divorced. I couldn't lag behind.

By 4:00 PM, Chris and I were standing in the county clerk’s office.

The woman behind the desk kept glancing back and forth between us. She probably thought we were acting strange—usually, couples filing for divorce carried an aura of deep-seated resentment. We looked like we were trying to get a marriage license.

Chris smiled the entire time.

I remained entirely expressionless.

When it came time to sign, his hand didn't shake.

Neither did mine.

Because I wasn't really thinking.

When we stepped out of the courthouse, Chris stood on the concrete steps, stretched his arms, let out a massive sigh of relief, and looked up at the blue sky. "God, that feels good."

I felt the weight of the divorce papers in my bag, pulled out my phone, and texted Regina.

"Done. We're still in sync."

I waited for her to send back a thumbs-up emoji.

Instead, my phone rang.

Regina’s voice blasted through the speaker, sounding like someone was choking her. "Belinda, what the hell did you do? You actually divorced him?"

"Yeah," I said, leaning against a handrail. "Just walked out of the courthouse."

Silence stretched for five agonizing seconds.

When she spoke again, her voice held a tone I had never heard from her before.

"Stay right there," she rasped. "I'm coming to you."

Twenty minutes later, Regina’s SUV screeched to a halt in front of me. The door practically flew open.

She stormed over, grabbed my collar, and pulled my face inches from hers.

Her eyes were bloodshot.

A vein throbbed on her temple.

"Belinda," she whispered, her voice raw. "I didn't cheat."

"Huh?"

She shook me. "I didn't fucking cheat! Jackie misunderstood. I explained everything to him. We didn't sign the papers. We're still married."

My brain went entirely numb.

"But you texted me saying you got divorced," I stammered.

She let go of my collar, took a step back, and covered her face with her hands.

"When I sent that text, Jackie was throwing a fit, and I thought it was over. But ten minutes after I sent it, he calmed down and came to apologize. I was going to call you and tell you to ignore the text, but your phone was dead."

"..."

I looked down at my phone.

Do Not Disturb.

I had turned it on during the drive to the courthouse because I was terrified Chris would back out if my phone kept buzzing.

Regina stared at me, her expression screaming one word: "Psycho."

I rubbed my neck. She had grabbed me pretty hard.

"So..." I muttered, "you guys are still together?"

"Yes."

"Jackie took you back?"

"Yes."

"Then what about me?"

Her lips trembled. She looked at me, bewildered. "What does that have to do with me? You divorced your husband on your own. How is that my fault?"

The streetlights flickered on.

I stood on the courthouse steps.

Holding my divorce papers.

My furious best friend standing beside me.

And somewhere in the distance, Chris had already taken an Uber home.

At that exact moment, a cold realization washed over me.

For thirty years, I had never trailed behind her.

But this time, I hadn't lagged.

In fact, the line hadn't even moved.

I had just sprinted off the cliff all by myself.