When Shawn came back that evening, he saw Leyla curled up asleep on the sofa. He approached quietly and stopped in front of her.
Although he hadn't made much noise, he had still ended up waking her.
When she opened her eyes and saw him, she hesitated briefly before sitting up. "You're home?"
The moment she spoke, she realized how strained her voice sounded.
Instead of responding, Shawn asked, "Why are you sleeping out here?"
He noticed she seemed slimmer than before. In just two days, she appeared noticeably worn down.
"I wasn't feeling well and must have fallen asleep. Are you hungry? I can make something for you," Leyla replied as she stood up.
Shawn reached out instinctively and caught her wrist to stop her. "No need. I already had dinner. If you're hungry, I can make you some pasta."
Cooking was not his strength, but pasta was one thing he could manage well.
Leyla noticed the fatigue on his face and almost declined. Yet a thought crossed her mind—soon, she would be gone. After that, she might never again have the chance to eat something he made.
Swallowing the words she initially wanted to say, she instead murmured, "Thank you."
Her stiff tone visibly unsettled Shawn. For reasons he could not explain, her formality felt quite off to him.
"Stay here," he said bluntly before turning toward the kitchen.
A short while later, he returned carrying a plate of spaghetti bolognese and placed it on the table in front of her.
Leyla was starving; she finished the pasta quickly.
As she prepared to gather the dishes, Shawn spoke again. "Leave it. Sit down. I need to talk to you." His voice was a little raspy.
Leyla clenched the fork briefly before setting it aside and following him back to the sofa.
Judging from the gravity in his expression and remembering Corrine's visit earlier, Leyla already knew what he intended to say.
Shawn studied her face. The redness around her eyes made her appear as though she had a bad rest.
A heavy silence followed. After nearly two minutes, Leyla asked, "Is this about the divorce?"
Shawn stiffened slightly at her directness before giving a small nod. "Yes."
Although Leyla had prepared herself for this moment, hearing the word aloud made the air feel thin in her lungs. A piercing ache spread through her chest, as though a knife had been driven straight through her heart.
He had been gone for two days without explanation. Not once had he thought to tell her where he was.
After her car accident, she had tried calling him over and over again, yet he never once returned her calls or asked whether she was safe.
It became painfully clear to her that, in Shawn's eyes, she was insignificant.
She gripped the sofa tightly with both hands. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, she forced herself to regain composure. Since she was going to leave anyway, she told herself she should do so with dignity. At the very least, she wanted Shawn to remember her as someone who did not beg, cling, or create unnecessary drama.
She made up her mind to step aside with dignity and allow Corrine to take her rightful place as his wife.
"When do you want us to go to the courthouse?" she asked.
Shawn observed her calm expression and, for reasons he could not articulate, felt a faint surge of annoyance. Nevertheless, he replied, "Within the next few days. I've already asked my attorney to prepare the divorce papers. You've been my wife in name for two years. I won't treat you unfairly. In addition to what's outlined in the prenup, I'll give you two hundred million dollars in cash. If you have other demands, you can make them."
It was indeed an extraordinarily generous offer.
Leyla did not answer immediately. Instead, she turned her face toward the window. Her eyes burned intensely.
After taking a moment to steady her emotions, she looked back at him. "I don't have any additional demands. I don't need the house either. After the divorce, I'll return to my hometown. As for money, I only need one hundred thousand dollars. I'm currently unemployed, and my savings are gone. Think of it as a loan. I'll repay you."
She had entered the marriage because she loved him. She was leaving because she knew she would never truly have his heart. Accepting his wealth felt unnecessary, even humiliating.
Shawn's jaw tightened slightly. "You can go back to your hometown if that's what you want. If you don't want this house, I'll have my lawyer calculate its value and add it to the settlement. It's something you're entitled to."
Leyla understood that this argument would accomplish nothing. The energy simply was not there anymore. "Just let me know when the papers are ready," she said quietly. "I'll move out as soon as possible."
"There's no hurry," Shawn replied. "I probably won't be staying here for a while anyway. You can remain in the mansion as long as you wish." With that, he rose to his feet and walked away.
As she watched him leave the room, the tears Leyla had been restraining broke out, streaming down her face.
