Chapter 2 Divorce papers

(Heather's POV)

"W–what is the meaning of this?" I stuttered, my hands beginning to shake in trepidation.

Roland rolled his eyes at me like I was some dumb high school kid. "It's a divorce paper, obviously."

I clenched my fists tightly. Of course, I know what a divorce paper is, but what I could not understand was why Roland was serving me one.

"I know it is a divorce paper, but I can't seem to figure out why you gave it to me!" My voice came out raspy and louder than I intended.

Roland looked embarrassed as he quickly glanced at our surroundings to ensure no one was listening. Of course no one was listening, we were the only customers in the restaurant.

"Keep your voice low, will you?" He snarled at me, looking displeased.

"Fine, fine, I'm calm. But you have to tell me what's going on," my voice was wavering now, as I fought so hard to block the thoughts of what might be happening.

"No!" I shook my head vehemently. Roland can't possibly be asking for a divorce. It probably was for someone else and he needed my opinion. As much as that thought sounded gullible, it was the only excuse I could think for what was happening.

All the while, while I battled with myself internally, Roland fixed me with a sorry look. He likely thought I was running mad with how I kept mumbling inaudible words of affirmations to myself.

"You know, I figured this would be your reaction which was why I booked the whole place. I can't stand you embarrassing me like this," Roland said, interrupting my train of thoughts.

"You...you had this all figured out? Asking me out for an anniversary dinner date just to callously serve me with divorce papers? Why?" Tears were beginning to brim at the corners of my eyes.

Roland groaned and grabbed his temples. "Come on, Heather. This marriage is not working. It has hit the rock long ago than we cared to admit. I am tired of it, and I know you are too." He responded, his voice tinged with a note of finality.

"No, no, please, don't say that." I begged frantically. "I love you, and I am not tired of you or our marriage."

"That's the point, Heather!" Roland grumbled in frustration. "I DO NOT LOVE YOU! I never did. You know this marriage would never have taken place if you had not carelessly gotten pregnant for me."

At the sound of those words, I felt my chest tighten in acute pain. That's right, three years together and he never for once, failed to subtly remind me that I had forced him into marrying me because I was pregnant.

The pain was too much, and I finally let the tears trickle down in torrents.

"Jeez! There you go again, Heather. Always tearing up like a toddler. I... I can't deal with this," Roland said and rose to his feet. "I have somewhere to be. The driver will drive you back home, and by the time I return home tomorrow, I want your signature appended on those papers."

My vision blurred with tears as I watched Roland's retreating figure. He was going to God knows where and leaving me all alone in this deserted restaurant.

I stayed glued to my seat, as I watched him walk out through the exit door and out of sight.

My expression turned bitter and Stoic, and suddenly, something in my head shifted.

The fact that Roland unceremoniously served me with divorce papers doesn't necessarily mean it's the end of our marriage, right?

Without careful thoughts, and propelled by the blind desire to save my marriage, I shot up on my feet and went after him. The sound of my heels on the restaurant's stone floor made clicking sounds that got the attention of the staff curiously fixated on me, but I didn't give two cents.

I got outside just in time to see Roland about pulling out from the parking lot. I hastened my steps and raced to the car's windscreen, desperately pummeling my fist on it.

Roland's scowling face greeted me as he reluctantly wind down the car's windscreen. I was not deterred by his enraged face as I proceeded to plead my cause.

"Roland, can we please talk this out, baby? You can't just decide out of the blues to divorce me."

"Our marriage is long gone, Heather. Talking things out is more or less like medicine administered after death. Accept the fact and let's get this divorce over with and get on with our individual lives."

"I'm pregnant, Roland. What's going to become of our baby?" I reluctantly announced. This was not the way I had planned to break the news to him, but with the way things were turning out, it seemed like my last shot at saving my marriage.

Roland's eyes dilated in shock and for a fleeting moment, his eyes strayed to my stomach.

Seeing that as a ray of hope, I brought my hand to my flat stomach, gently caressing it to drive home my point. "That's right, sweetheart. I'm three weeks gone. You are finally going to be a father."

At that point, I could swear that I saw his expression soften, as his eyes lingered a little on my stomach. A relieved smile appeared at the corner of my lips as I thought he was going to change his mind about the divorce when he learned about the baby, our baby.

Instead, his next words and action threw me off balance. His face hardened and he sneered at me. "I don't care about the embryo, Heather. Get rid of it!" And without another word, he wound up the windscreen and zoomed off.

I was left dumbstruck, mouth wide open, as I stared at the car zoom out of sight.

Suddenly, my breath hitched. The surrounding air felt poisonous as there was a momentary restriction of air through my lungs.

My eyes burned with unshed tears as I involuntarily reached for my clutch purse and fished out the pregnancy test result from this morning. I planned to break the Good News to him at what I had envisaged to be the best dinner date of my life. I did not realize I was crying now until I tasted the saltines of my tears.

Shoulders slacked in pain and defeat, I slowly lowered myself to the rough floor of the restaurant parking lot as I let the ocean of tears I had been hoarding for long, flow freely.