I didn’t stop packing, my hands moving faster as if each motion could somehow wash away the sadness and anger pooling inside me.
"The divorce papers are in my bag. I’ve signed them already. We’ll go to the Civil Affairs Bureau on Monday. I’m not afraid of the thirty-day waiting period. I’ll stay in the old house. I’ll handle it alone. As for the property... keep everything. I don’t want a thing."
"I won’t divorce you." Easton’s voice cracked as he coughed violently, desperate to stop me.
"I won’t divorce you, Breigh. Listen to me, please."
His words felt like they were pulling me under, but I wasn’t about to let him drown me with more lies.
"Cora is a university classmate. We share a special bond, but we’re just friends. Don’t read too much into it."
"I don’t care," I shot back, my words sharper than I intended. "I just want a divorce."
"Easton, I’ve grown up," I continued, my voice steady, though my heart was anything but. "I can face the world on my own now. I don’t need your protection anymore, and I don’t need to worry about my father’s wish. The truth is, I don’t like you anymore."
His tone made it seem as though I were the one being unreasonable, but I couldn’t let his manipulation break me.
And there she was, Cora, sitting at my desk, tossing my nameplate into the trash like it was nothing.
Everything, absolutely everything, was a privilege Easton had given her.
He wasn’t innocent.
My words hung in the air, leaving Easton speechless, while Cora shrank behind him, her smile triumphant and insufferable.
I knew I shouldn’t cry; tears would only make this moment more humiliating, but they came anyway. After my father’s death, Easton had been my everything, my anchor in a storm. Now, all of it was slipping through my fingers.
As I packed my things, I found that the box wasn’t big enough to hold all the pieces of my life. In a fit of frustration, I tossed our photo aside.
Easton stepped forward, his hands trembling as he gently took the box from me.
"Breigh," he said softly, as though trying to soothe a tantrum. "When you’ve calmed down, we can talk."
His words were like a balloon pricked with a needle: helpless, empty, and useless. I felt a rush of frustration, a helplessness that made it hard to breathe.
In the end, I walked out, my eyes fixed on Cora’s smug face. I took in her expression for one last time, then turned to her with a smile as cold as ice.
"Miss Buckingham," I said, my voice dripping with venom. "You like playing with this ceramic bunny, don’t you? Take it. It’s just cheap street market stuff, not worth a dime. It’s like second-hand goods. I never cared for it. But I’m sure you’ll treat it like a treasure."
I left it all behind, the things I didn’t want, including this thin, suffocating sky.
A month passed, and I gave up the chance to stay and work in Lancashire, but still, the divorce papers remained unsigned. After the thirty-day waiting period, Easton never took action.
I heard the news one day Easton was in a car accident, the same day I’d made my decision to leave. My colleagues whispered about his rush to verify a list for staying in Lancashire.
I couldn’t bring myself to care why he’d been in such a hurry.
Maybe he feared I would stay. Or maybe he was afraid Cora wouldn’t.
When I saw Cora’s name on that list, something inside me twisted painfully.
Three days later, my old colleagues planned a visit to the hospital to see Easton. I went along, though I had no desire to see them together. But when I arrived, there they were, Cora, feeding him fruit and laughing as if nothing had ever happened between us.
The sight left a bitter taste in my mouth, sadness pressing down on my chest. I couldn’t bring myself to go in and see him, not like that. So, I lingered at the door, trapped in the shadows of my own emotions.
The next day, I boarded a plane, bound for another chapter in my life.
I was headed to the University of Lancaster to study; my flight had been booked a month in advance.
