“I’m drafting the divorce papers,” I said, my voice calm though my hands shook. “Five days, Johan. Let’s part ways then.”
Johan blinked, as if I had spoken another language. “What are you saying?” His voice was incredulous, a mocking laugh following. “In five days? That’s our anniversary, Danica. Didn’t we promise to celebrate it like before?”
I laughed, but it came out hollow, bitter. “Like before?” I repeated. “You mean the last five years when you never showed up? When you sent flowers and cards from god-knows-where while you were out celebrating business?”
He froze, his jaw tightening.
I didn’t stop. “I used to tell myself it was business—that you were busy keeping Father’s company afloat. I made excuses for you, for every late night, every unanswered call. I believed in you. But now I know better. You even spend more time with Ella!”
He ran a hand through his hair, his tone rising with irritation. “You’re being ridiculous, Danica. You’re angry, fine, I get it. But don’t bring divorce into this again. I can definitely make it up for it. This is ridiculous. And Ella? You know she’s my secretary. You told me to hire her! So why are you bringing her into this?”
“I should bring her into this,” I snapped. “She’s been in our lives since the beginning. She was supposed to be my best friend, and yet she’s the one you go home to, isn’t she? You’ve been fooling me, both of you.”
Johan laughed under his breath—cold, dismissive. “So that’s what this is about? You’re jealous?”
“No,” I whispered, my heart breaking at the sound of his voice. “I’m done. I don’t love you anymore, Johan. So let’s divorce.”
His laughter grew louder this time, almost cruel. “Divorce me? You’re serious?” He leaned closer, his eyes darkening. “No, you can’t do that. Where would you even go? You’re an orphan, Danica. You don’t have anyone or anything without me. Do you expect me to hand you money after you walk away?”
My hands clenched into fists. “I don’t need your money.”
He snorted, grabbed my hand, and shoved the wedding ring back into my palm. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. Then he pulled a sleek black card from his wallet and dropped it onto the table. “Here—my black card. Buy yourself something nice. That’s better than talking nonsense about divorce.”
I could only laugh, but it came out broken. “You think money fixes everything?”
He stepped back, already looking bored. “I won’t be home later. I have a meeting—”
Before he could finish, the sting of my palm cracked against his cheek. The sound echoed across the room.
For a second, everything froze.
Then his expression shifted, rage replacing shock. His hand shot out—and for the first time, Johan slapped me back. The impact sent me stumbling, my cheek burning with humiliation and pain.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted, his chest heaving.
But before I could even speak, a small voice broke through the tension.
“Bad!”
We both turned. Little John stood by the doorway, clutching a small toy car in his hand. His big brown eyes—Johan’s eyes—were wide with confusion. “Why are you slapping Daddy?”
My stomach twisted. I had always let the child call Johan 'Daddy' because Ella told me his father didn’t want him, as it was from a one-night stand. I pitied him. I loved him in my own quiet way, thinking I was helping a friend’s child heal. But now I realized the cruel truth.
He wasn’t fatherless. He was Johan’s son.
Before I could say anything, Ella’s voice drifted from the hall. “Oh… sorry.”
She appeared beside the boy, her face painted with concern, her tone dripping with practiced sweetness. “Is it a bad time? John wanted to visit. He misses everyone. But… I guess we should go.”
“No,” Johan cut in quickly, brushing past me. “We’re going out. Without her.” He threw a sharp look at me. “How dare you even think of divorce?”
Ella put a delicate hand to her chest. “Danica, why would you do that? Did something happen?”
“Don’t act innocent,” I hissed.
She blinked, feigning confusion. “Did Johan upset you again? Should I scold him for you?”
Her tone made me sick. I used to confide everything in her—every fight, every pain. She knew me better than anyone, or so I thought. And yet she had been smiling in my face while betraying me behind my back.
“Stop pretending you care,” I snapped. “You know the reason I’m doing this.”
Ella tilted her head. “Oh, is this about that guy you told me about?”
“What?” Johan turned sharply. “What guy?”
I froze. “Ella, what the hell—”
Is she using the cheating card even if it’s not true?
“Wait,” he said, glaring at me. “Are you cheating on me?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re accusing me?”
Ella raised her hands innocently. “No, no, she didn’t say anything serious—”
“Shut up!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “You traitor! That is not true.”
Johan’s face darkened. He grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me toward our room. “You want a divorce so you can cheat on me? Is that it?”
“Let go of me!” I struggled, but his grip only tightened.
“No,” he growled. “You’re not leaving this house until you come to your senses.”
He shoved me into the room and slammed the door, the lock clicking in place. I heard his footsteps retreating, then the front door closing as they left—Johan, Ella, and their son.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I sank to the floor, my chest heaving, my palms trembling. My reflection in the mirror looked like someone else—someone broken, betrayed, and bleeding on the inside.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I pressed a hand to my stomach. “I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “But I have to let you go now. Your father doesn’t want you.”
Outside, the sound of their car engine roared to life, fading into the distance. And I was left alone—locked away, clutching my belly, and praying for strength.
“Five days,” I whispered to myself, closing my eyes. “Just five days… and I’ll be free.”
