Chapter 2

The next evening, I decided to cook a final meal. Her favorite. Steak, pan-seared just the way she liked it, with roasted potatoes and asparagus. It felt like a ritual, a proper way to close a nine-year chapter of my life. The smell filled our small apartment, a ghost of a thousand other nights that had felt safe and happy.

She came home late, dropping her leather briefcase by the door with a thud.

"What' s all this?" she asked, looking at the carefully set table. There was no pleasure in her voice, only impatience.

"I cooked dinner," I said simply.

"Ethan, I don' t have time for this," she sighed, running a hand through her perfectly styled hair. "I have an early meeting tomorrow."

She walked past the table and came back with a manila folder, dropping it on the tablecloth next to the plate of steak. "We need to sign these."

Divorce papers.

"Can' t this wait until after we eat?" I asked, my voice strained.

"Why drag it out?" she said, tapping a manicured finger on the folder. "You know where I stand. I have a new life now, a real future. We' re in different worlds, Ethan. It' s better to make a clean break. Long-term pain is worse than short-term pain."

Her words were precise, like something she' d rehearsed. She was talking about our life together like it was a bad investment she was finally cutting loose.

My gaze fell to her hand, to the simple silver ring I' d given her on our fifth anniversary. I' d bought it from a pawn shop after saving for months. At the time, she' d cried and said it was the most beautiful thing she' d ever owned. Now, its faint gleam seemed to mock me.

I just stared at the papers, my heart a lead weight in my chest. I couldn' t move.

Seeing my hesitation, her expression shifted. Her face softened, her lower lip began to tremble, and her eyes welled up with tears. It was a performance I knew all too well. It was the face she made whenever she wanted something she knew she didn' t deserve.

"Ethan, please don' t make this harder than it has to be," she whispered, a single tear tracing a perfect path down her cheek. "You know I' m only doing this for my own good. You wouldn' t want to hold me back, would you?"

In the past, those tears would have broken me. I would have done anything to make them stop, to take away her pain. I would have blamed myself.

But this time, something inside me had gone cold and hard. The performance was too clean, the timing too perfect. The love I felt for her, the all-consuming devotion that had fueled me for nine years, flickered and died. It was like watching a fire finally run out of fuel, leaving nothing but cold ash.

I picked up the pen.

"Where do I sign?" I asked. My voice was eerily calm.