Chapter 5

Eliza Hodges POV:

Camden stood there, frozen, his mouth agape. "What did you say?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, as if the words had lost all meaning.

"I said, divorce me," I reiterated, each syllable a solid brick in the wall I was building between us. "I'm done. Truly, irrevocably done."

His face crumpled, a mask of disbelief. Then, it contorted with fury. "Done? Done with what? With me? With your pathetic little art projects? You're nothing without me, Eliza! You couldn't survive a day outside my shadow! You're an artist, not a businesswoman!" His voice was a venomous hiss, spitting out every insecurity he' d ever projected onto me.

I met his gaze, my own eyes devoid of the usual pain or anger. His words, once sharp enough to pierce my heart, now merely brushed against a hardened surface. They were just noise, background static to the quiet hum of my newly awakened resolve.

"Don't tell me you're playing some kind of twisted game," he snarled, desperation creeping into his tone. "Trying to make me jealous? Trying to get my attention?"

A deep weariness settled over me, heavier than any sorrow. "No, Camden," I said, my voice soft, almost pitying. "There are no games left to play. I'm tired. I'm just... tired."

I took a deep breath, the crisp autumn air filling my lungs, a symbol of freedom. "I'll instruct my lawyers to prepare the papers. I'll be out of the house by the end of the week." My eyes flickered to Kai, who was now watching us with a mix of fear and triumph. "And you might want to consider keeping your new 'partner' on a tighter leash. He has a habit of breaking things."

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away, not looking back. I didn't care about their bewildered expressions, their indignant whispers. I was walking towards my freedom.

I found myself on a quiet street corner, the city lights blurring around me. I pulled out a cigarette, the first one in years, and watched the smoke curl into the night. My past choices, my sacrifices, my unwavering loyalty-they all seemed so distant now, like memories from another lifetime. The pain was still there, a dull ache, but it no longer consumed me.

My phone vibrated. It was the email from the glass art studio in Italy. The fellowship offer. I had almost forgotten about it, buried under the weight of my crumbling marriage. I reread it, the words gleaming with a promise of a new beginning. My fingers, steady and resolute, typed my acceptance.

The first thing I did was call my lawyer. "I want a divorce," I told her, my voice firm. "And I want it clean, fast. No messy fights over assets. Just freedom."

Then, I went home. Not to him, but to the house that was once ours, now just a shell of broken dreams. I started packing, not our shared life, but my life. My tools, my canvases, my half-finished glass pieces. Clothes that felt like me, not the woman he wanted me to be. Old photographs, gifts that held too many painful memories-I sorted through them, discarding, letting go. Each item I tossed into the 'donate' pile was a step towards shedding my past.

As my bags stood by the door, ready to be picked up, I called Camden. I needed to tell him I was leaving. The phone rang once, twice, then a youthful, unfamiliar voice answered.

"Hello?" It was Kai, his tone saccharine sweet, laced with a triumphant edge.

"Kai? Is Camden there?" I asked, a tight knot forming in my stomach.

"Oh, the old boss isn't here," he purred, and I could practically hear his smirk. "He's out, celebrating. You know, celebrating his freedom."

"I need to speak to Camden," I insisted, my voice flat.

"He's busy, Eliza," Kai snapped, his sweetness evaporating. "Why don't you just leave him alone? He's finally happy. You're just a bitter, jealous ex-wife who can't let go." His voice dripped with venom. "He doesn't want you anymore. He wants me."

He hung up, the line going dead with a sharp click. Then, a notification popped up on my phone: 'Kai Hoffman has blocked you.' A ghost of a smile touched my lips. Good.

As I took one last look around the empty bedroom, my eyes fell on a crumpled piece of paper on Camden' s side of the bed. It was a medical report. I picked it up, curiosity piqued. The diagnosis hit me like a cold wave: a sexually transmitted infection, one that was notoriously difficult to treat. A sardonic laugh escaped my lips. Oh, Camden. You truly reap what you sow.

I left the report on his pillow, a silent, damning testament to his choices. I closed the bedroom door behind me, a final click echoing through the silent house. It felt like I was closing a chapter, not just in my life, but in a book I had no desire to reread.

I had done my part. My conscience was clear.

My lawyer sent the divorce papers a few days later. Camden's furious call came almost immediately.

"What is this, Eliza?! Are you seriously doing this? This is ridiculous! What kind of game are you playing now?" His voice was hoarse, laced with a frantic edge I hadn't heard before.

"It's not a game, Camden," I said, my voice calm, almost detached. "It's a divorce. You wanted it, remember? You threatened me with it. Now you have it."

"No, no, I didn't mean it!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Kai... he's just a fling, Eliza. A silly mistake. I'll fire him! I'll break up with him! Just come home!" He sounded desperate, a stark contrast to his usual arrogant self.

As he spoke, I idly picked up a sharp piece of glass from my workbench, a remnant from a broken mold. My finger brushed against the edge, and a thin line of red welled up, a tiny sting. It was a physical manifestation of the invisible wounds his words used to inflict, but now, it barely registered.

"Camden," I said, my voice flat, "I suggest you check your pillow. There's a medical report there. And I'm not coming home. I've already left."

Through the phone, I heard a muffled sound, then Kai' s voice, sweet and concerned. "Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

I hung up, the words of concern, not for Camden, but for him, ringing in my ears. I looked at the small cut on my finger, a red bead slowly forming. Our marriage, our life, had been a slow, agonizing bleeding out. It was time for it to stop.