After saying goodbye to my friends one by one, I was about to get up when I ran straight into someone.
It was Bernice.
"Mrs. Delgado, I wanted to explain—Mr. Delgado and I really aren't what you think."
"I've only been at the company for two weeks, and besides, I'm already married."
Bernice held up her right hand, the diamond on her ring finger catching the light.
I let out a soft laugh, taking my time to look her over.
"You certainly don't hold back, Miss Henson. Fresh out of college and already treating yourself to six-figure handbags and five-figure outfits."
"And that necklace around your neck—that wasn't cheap either, was it?"
Her face flushed instantly. She stammered for a long moment, unable to get a single word out.
I walked past her, giving her shoulder a light pat.
"I've met plenty of women like you."
"You claim there's nothing between you and Thomas, yet you accept everything he gives you—the gifts, the special treatment. You've never once said no, have you?"
Maybe I'd gone too far. Or maybe I'd struck a nerve.
She snapped.
Bernice seized my wrist in a death grip. "You can look down on me all you want, but I won't let you insult me."
"Insult?" I met her gaze. "The fact that you can stand here and say that to my face—that's the insult."
My eyes swept over her, cold and unhurried. Then I shook her off.
Bernice's face went white. She let out a sharp cry and stumbled backward.
Thomas appeared out of nowhere, catching her before she fell.
"Marilyn, who told you to put your hands on her?"
"Apologize. Now."
His eyes were frigid, edged with fury. In that moment, I heard something inside me shatter.
I lowered my gaze and smoothed my sleeve. "My apologies, Miss Henson."
Then I turned and walked away.
Behind me, Bernice's shrill voice rang out. She pushed Thomas away, insisting over and over that there was nothing between them, telling him to stay away from her.
I almost laughed. The performance playing out behind me was nothing short of absurd.
That evening, Thomas came home.
On the coffee table lay a single sheet of paper.
Divorce papers. Already signed—by me.
Thomas glanced at it and actually laughed. He picked up the document and followed me into the bedroom.
"Marilyn, I've spoiled you too much over the years. Made you too naive."
"Divorce me, and what do you get? Do you have any idea how hard it is to find work out there? Without me, you wouldn't survive a day."
I turned to face him, holding his gaze without flinching.
"I was naive. That's the only reason I fell for your lies back then."
Thomas hurled the papers aside and dropped onto the sofa.
He crossed his legs, rubbing the crease between his brows with a smirk. "Marilyn, don't be like this."
"What we had was real. And I still love you now."
"But a lifetime is long. Loving only one person... that's asking too much."
He wasn't wrong.
I believed him.
But we weren't the same. What I'd always wanted was something pure.
"Thomas, I'm not playing games either."
"I want this divorce. Sign the papers, and we can part on good terms."
He opened his mouth to say something, but his phone cut him off—a shrill, urgent ring.
A woman was crying on the other end. He shot to his feet, his expression shifting to barely contained panic as he turned toward the door.
I stepped into his path. "Sign it, and you can go."
Thomas's brow furrowed. With an impatient huff, he snatched the pen and scrawled his name.
"Marilyn, this little hard-to-get routine of yours—you really never get tired of it, do you?"
The door slammed shut.
The house went dark and cold. Dead silent.
Thomas sped all the way to Bernice's place. The moment he knocked, the door flew open and a woman crashed into his arms.
