I was always the chaser. He's the runner.
In the quiet aftermath of a Mother's Day argument, a marriage between two public figures dissolved not through betrayal but through the slow erosion of communication — a reminder that the words spoken in anger can become the architecture of outcomes we never intended. Bunnie Xo, podcaster and wife of country rapper Jelly Roll, has broken her silence to explain how a single exhausted ultimatum, followed by weeks of silence, became a legal reality neither of them fully chose. Their story, unfolding across Tennessee courthouses and concert stages, speaks to something older than celebrity: the way love can quietly shift from mutual pursuit to one person carrying the weight alone, until they simply set it down.
- A Mother's Day fight reached a breaking point when Bunnie told Jelly Roll to file for divorce — words she meant as a cry for him to fight for the marriage, not a literal instruction he would follow.
- Jelly Roll, hurt and silent for weeks, did exactly what she said — filing paperwork in Williamson County on May 18 — and the gap between what she said and what she meant became irreversible.
- Rumors of infidelity and an alleged affair with Nickelback's Chad Kroeger spread rapidly online, forcing Bunnie to publicly dismantle a false narrative while grieving a very real one.
- Beneath the public drama lay eighteen months of compounding private pain: three IVF transfers, four lost embryos, and a communication breakdown that left Bunnie feeling like the sole architect of their bond.
- Both have since chosen transparency over bitterness — Jelly Roll declaring their friendship unbroken from a concert stage, Bunnie encouraging fans to slide into his DMs — as they navigate a separation that refuses to look like a clean ending.
Bunnie Xo sat down on her podcast and told the story plainly: a Mother's Day argument pushed her to a breaking point, and in exhaustion she told Jelly Roll to file the divorce papers. Then she left. For weeks, they didn't speak. What she hadn't anticipated was that he would actually do it. When the paperwork landed in Williamson County, Tennessee — separation date listed as May 9 — she understood she had wanted him to fight for them, not comply. She got silence and legal documents instead.
In the weeks that followed, Bunnie began the work of pulling herself out of what she described as a hole — hormone replacement therapy, regular therapy, and the slower process of understanding what had broken between them. She was also careful to correct the story already spreading online. No one had cheated. The Nickelback videos were just music she loved, not coded messages. The real fracture was quieter: they had simply stopped talking to each other.
She described their dynamic as one of chaser and runner — she was always the one reaching, protecting, holding things together. Over eighteen months of IVF treatments, three transfers, and four lost embryos, the emotional weight compounded without being shared. When she finally stopped chasing, the relationship came apart. She believed they deserved a chance at couples therapy. He didn't feel the same. She respected that, even as it hurt.
A day after her podcast aired, Jelly Roll addressed the divorce from a concert stage in Saratoga Springs, calling Bunnie his best friend, confirming no infidelity had occurred, and directing fans to hear her words for themselves. He thanked her for ten years and promised twenty more of friendship.
Bunnie said she was staying single for now, genuinely supportive of Jelly Roll already dating and moving forward. What made their ending strange was what remained: they were still pursuing IVF together, still trying to have a child, still calling each other best friends — untangling a shared life while insisting it wasn't really an ending at all.
Bunnie Xo sat down on her podcast and told the story of how a Mother's Day argument became the moment her marriage to Jelly Roll fractured beyond repair. She didn't dwell on the specifics of what they fought about. What mattered, she said, was that in the heat of it—exhausted, fed up—she looked at him and said something she meant as a breaking point, not a blueprint: file the divorce papers. Then she packed a bag and left. For weeks, neither of them spoke.
What happened next was the thing she hadn't anticipated. Jelly Roll, angry and emotional, did exactly what she'd told him to do. He filed. When the paperwork landed in Williamson County, Tennessee on May 18—with a separation date listed as May 9—Bunnie realized she hadn't actually wanted this. She had wanted him to fight. She had wanted him to stay and work through it. Instead, she got silence and legal documents.
The 46-year-old podcaster spent the next stretch of time trying to pull herself out of what she called a hole. She started hormone replacement therapy. She started regular therapy. She began the slow work of understanding what had broken between them. And as she talked about it on her show "Dumb Blonde," she was careful to correct the narrative that had already begun spreading across social media. Nobody had cheated. There was no affair with Chad Kroeger from Nickelback, despite a few videos she'd posted with the band's songs—videos that, she acknowledged, did look like overkill when strung together, but were just her posting music she loved. The real problem was simpler and harder: they had stopped talking to each other.
Bunnie described their dynamic as a runner-and-chaser dynamic, the kind some people call a twin flame relationship. She was the one always reaching, always protecting him, always making sure he was okay. She was the glue. But over the past year and a half, as they cycled through IVF treatments—three transfers, four lost embryos—the emotional toll compounded. They weren't pouring into each other. They weren't on the same page. And eventually, she stopped chasing. The relationship had served its purpose, she said. They had given each other what they needed to give. But she still believed they deserved a chance to go to therapy and figure it out together. He didn't feel that way. She respected his choice, even as it hurt.
What struck her most, looking back, was that she had always loved him a little more than he loved her. She had been the one doing the work, the one holding it together. And when she finally stopped, the whole thing came apart. But she also said something else: they were still going to have a baby together. Despite the divorce, despite the separation, they were still pursuing IVF. They were still trying to build something, just in a different shape.
Jelly Roll broke his silence a day later, posting a video from his concert in Saratoga Springs, New York. He said the internet was a liar. He said he and Bunnie were best friends and would always be best friends. He said nobody cheated on anybody. He told people to listen to her podcast because every word of it was true. And then he thanked her for ten years and promised twenty more of friendship. "Bunnie, I love you baby," he said on stage. "Thank you for those ten years, they were incredible."
Bunnie, for her part, said she was single now and planned to stay that way for a while. She was joking about becoming a player, about focusing on herself. But she was also genuinely supportive of Jelly Roll moving on. He was dating already, she said. His DMs were open. She encouraged people to reach out to him. They had married in a whirlwind Las Vegas ceremony in August 2016, after meeting the year before. She had become a stepmother to his two children. And now they were untangling all of that—the marriage, the shared life, the baby they were still trying to make together—while insisting they would remain each other's best friend. It was a strange kind of ending, one that didn't feel like an ending at all.
Notable Quotes
I was speaking out of anger and just frustration. But was it necessary for us to have a wakeup call and to actually start having these real conversations? Absolutely.— Bunnie Xo on her podcast
Me and my wife are best friends. We will always be best friends. Nobody cheated on nobody.— Jelly Roll, speaking from stage at his concert
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When she told him to file the papers, did she actually want him to do it?
No. She was speaking in anger. She wanted him to push back, to fight for the marriage. When he actually filed, she was blindsided.
So the divorce wasn't mutual, even though she's the one who said the words?
Exactly. She said it out of frustration and exhaustion, but she didn't mean it as a final decision. She meant it as a wake-up call. He took it as permission.
What was actually breaking the marriage, then? The IVF failures?
That was part of it—three transfers, four lost embryos over two years. But the real fracture was communication. They stopped talking to each other. She describes herself as the chaser in the relationship, always reaching, always protecting him. Eventually she got tired and stopped.
And he didn't try to close that gap?
He didn't feel like therapy was the answer. She wanted to go together and work through it. He filed instead. She respects his choice, but it hurt.
Are they actually going to have a baby together despite being divorced?
Yes. They're still pursuing IVF. They're still trying to create a child together even as they're untangling the marriage. It's complicated.
How does she feel about him dating now?
She's supportive. She even joked about encouraging people to reach out to him on Instagram. They're both moving forward, but they're insisting they'll always be best friends.