Marianne's POV
Maybe the truth was, they had already made peace a long time ago. And I was the only one still holding on to all of this like a fool.
With that in mind, I called my best friend, Colette Montgomery, who happened to be a lawyer, and asked her to draft a divorce agreement for me.
When she heard I wanted a divorce, she was shocked. “What did Gideon do? Did he hit you?”
“No. He treats me well,” I said quietly, then gave her a brief explanation.
The moment she learned he had forgiven his sworn enemy, she laughed in disbelief. Then she swore she’d handle the divorce papers for me.
It was supposed to be Thanksgiving, but as I walked away from the noisy gathering and came home alone, the silence felt crushing.
At four in the morning, Gideon finally stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. The moment he got into bed, he pulled me close, pressing his warm lips against mine, insistent and probing.
After three years of marriage, I knew exactly what he wanted.
His body pressed down on me as one hand fumbled toward the nightstand. His kisses left me weak until I heard the sound of a pill packet being snapped open.
In that instant, desire turned to ice in my veins.
“Be good,” he whispered. “Take the pill, and we’ll keep going.”
But I clenched my jaw and refused. I wouldn’t take another birth control pill.
Out of nowhere, Arabella’s words from earlier replayed in my head. “We even made a pact that until the scar on my collarbone healed, he couldn’t have kids with you.
My stomach turned. I shoved his drunken body off me and spat the pill he’d tried to force between my lips back out. The bitterness burned so much that it brought tears to my eyes.
I took a deep breath and said, my back to him, “Let’s get a divorce.”
But when I turned around, bracing myself, Gideon was already asleep.
His wedding ring then slipped out of his pocket and hit the floor. He probably took it off earlier while “playing games” with Arabella, so he wouldn’t scratch her with it.
I stared at it for a long moment, then slowly slid my own ring off and tucked it into the drawer of the nightstand.
The next morning, Colette sent me the completed divorce agreement. At the same time, a reminder about amusement park tickets popped up on my phone.
Last week was my birthday, but Gideon had skipped it to work late. So, he bought those tickets to make it up to me.
Usually, after a night of heavy drinking, he slept until noon. But today, he was up early, freshly showered, dressed in the new clothes I’d just bought him.
Watching him stand in front of the mirror, carefully shaving, I felt a tangle of emotions.
“Gideon, I have something to do today. About the amusement park—”
Unexpectedly, he cut me off without even looking up. “I can’t go today. I’ve got a client meeting. I’ll just cancel it and take you next week instead.”
As he said that, he scrolled casually through his phone, not noticing my face go pale.
And at that very moment, two notifications popped up on my screen.
[Your amusement park reservation has been canceled.]
[Payment confirmed! Two adult tickets for Mr. Ward at the amusement park.]
After that, he finally looked at me, and only then did he notice my silence. He cupped my face with one hand, then kissed me lightly as though that was enough.
“Don’t pout. You never used to be like this.”
Then, without even trying to coax me, he slipped on his shoes and headed for the door.
My throat tightened as I asked, “This ‘client,’ is she more important than me?”
His expression shifted, and then he gave me a dismissive smile. “Don’t talk nonsense. Everything I do is for you and for our future child.”
But after saying that, he walked out directly.
However, his backup phone lay forgotten on the sofa, the screen flashing with notifications. Most of the messages on that device were synced with his main phone.
Upon picking it up, I discovered that, apart from me, there were also two group chats pinned on his messaging app.
But after checking those, beads of sweat formed on my palm.
In one, it includes him, his friends, and me.
But in the other, everything was the same, except the woman’s name wasn’t mine.
It was Arabella.
