Chapter 1 Nicole

My hands trembled slightly as I placed the divorce papers on the table. "I want a divorce." Taking a deep breath, I forced the words out, my voice tremble because the of anger and sadness I felt.

He didn't even look up from his phone, his thumb scrolling the screen with ease. "You know you can't do that, Nicole." His dismissal was nonchalant, having no hint of concern.

" I can't do it?" The question shot out before I could stop it, laced with a fury that burned in my gut. "Do you think I can't do it?"

Finally, he looked up, his green eyes meeting mine, but with a chilling nonchalant attitude. "We had an agreement, Nicole," he said, "One year was the deal. This is just six months."

"Yes, and guess what?" I crossed my hands over my chest, as my voice echo through the living room. "The agreement also stated grounds for early termination of agreement, and guess who's met those grounds now?" My voice trembled with barely contained emotion.

"I don't give a damn about some terms and conditions written by your greedy lawyer" he spat, his jaw tightening.

"Well, I give a damn," I countered, my voice rising. "That's why I want a damn divorce!" The final word sounded more like a declaration of war against the life we had built.

I could feel the tension in the room becoming thick with anger, it was enough to choke me. I stood in front of Nicholas, replaying all the things I've been through because of him and his Casanova lifestyle. At this point, I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"What exactly is the problem this time?" Nicholas asked, his voice dripping with false concern. It was like a switch had flipped. Was he really asking me what the problem was when he himself had been the only problem I have.

"You," I spat, my voice tight with frustration. "You are the problem! You are always the problem, Nicholas. And you will always be the problem" Each of my words were laced with venom, they are evidence of the years of the surpressed resentment bubbling up inside me.

He furrowed his brow, playing the ignorance game as usual. "Me? I don't understand what you're saying," he said, his voice smooth as butter.

That's what made it worse. His nonchalant attitude, him forming ignorance, and constantly denying it. "Don't play dumb," I snapped.

"Please, elaborate! Mrs. Nicole Jackwood," he sneered, using my name with his last name. It was a deliberate jab, a way of reminding me that I was still stuck to him legally and there was nothing I could do about it.

A surge of anger coursed through me. "Don't start with me. Don't do that," I warned, making my voice sound low and dangerous. "All these emotional blackmail tactics are enough. They won't work on me anymore."

He threw his head back and laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound. "Emotional blackmail?" He wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye. "You don't even know the meaning of what you are saying."

His dismissal stung me deeply. He walked past me, going towards his room. Circulating the atmosphere with his indifference. "When you're ready to be a grown-up and tell me your actual problem, you know where to find me."

The weight of his words settled on me like an heavy cloak. I knew I wasn't the one creating the problems; he was the one with the problem. Yet, here I was, the one made to feel childish, the one who had to chase him for a conversation, the one overreacting.

In that moment, I won't keep quiet and endure this anymore. Before he could fully retreat into the his room, I chased after him, my voice laced with a desperate tone.

"The problem..." I started, my throat restricting with bitter tears. Swallowing the lump, I forced myself to continue, "You go around flirting with everyone in a skirt. I can't even step foot in the damn fashion house without whispers following me like a bad perfume."

"Is this not Nicolas Jackwood's wife?" I mimicked in a high-pitched, mocking voice, my hands flying to my hips. "Her husband asked me out last week! Can you believe the nerve? And then there was the other one, bragging about the Bottega bag my husband gifted her. My voice dripped with sarcasm, mirroring the whispers that had become a consistent soundtrack in my life.

"I'm tired, Nicholas," I sighed, the fight momentarily draining out of me. "Exhausted of these rumors, of the constant embarrassment they've caused me. How can I hold my head high at work when everyone seems to know about my husband flirting games?"

The tears I've been holding welled in my eyes, blurring the vision of the man I married, the man I'd begged to marry me.

My voice cracked as I spoke, each word was a piece of the broken trust. "I know I was the one who asked for this marriage," I confessed, "but the very least you could do is respect the vows you made, even if it's just until our contract is over."

He scoffed, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Vows?" he echoed, the word dripping with sarcasm. "My dearest wife," he continued, his voice laced with a mockery that sent a fresh wave of hurt through me, "you asked for a good husband in public. And haven't I delivered just that?"

My heart hammered against my ribs. "That's not what I meant, Nicholas!" I cried.

"Oh, but it is," he countered, his eyes gleaming with a cruel amusement. "Talking about vows, are you referring to the fake vow we took in front of the fake priest you hired? You of all people shouldn't be complaining about the performance?"

"How can you still find this funny?" I choked out, the betrayal a bitter pill on my tongue.

"It is funny. In fact, you are funny, my wife," he said, the weight of his words crushing me. He turned to leave, then paused as if struck by a sudden thought. "Get ready tonight," he said over his shoulder, a reminder of our fake relationship. "We have a pomp to attend."

With that, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving me alone with the stark reality reflected in the ignored divorce papers. I came to him to get a divorce, now I'm supposed to go to a pomp with him. How would I survive tonight?