My Husband Said His Mom Deserved the Front Seat More than Me – I Taught Him a Lesson

“How sweet.”

I stepped forward and held out my hand. “Here, give me the keys. I’ll open the door for you when you’re back.”

Harry didn’t even question it.

He tossed me the keys with a grin.

They walked toward the garage together, already chattering about what it might be.

And I slid into the driver’s seat.

The engine purred to life under my hands.

I adjusted the mirrors. Checked my seatbelt. Put the car in reverse.

My heart was pounding, but my hands were steady.

Inside the white box were divorce papers. Signed. Filed.

Ready.

I didn’t wait to see their faces when they opened it. I didn’t need to.

I backed out of the driveway and drove away.

For the first time in my marriage, I was in the front seat. Alone.

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