A Chance At Forever: Chasing His Divorced Love

CHARLOTTE

Rogerio was the type of man any woman would dream of. I spent my time doing things I thought would make him happy. Today, I asked the cook, Maria, to prepare his favorite meal in anticipation of his return for dinner. However, he had not arrived yet.

"How many times have you seen a rocket in the sky?" I asked aloud.

"What?" Maria asked and lifted her head to meet my gaze. "I don't understand."

"A rocket, Maria. Do you know what that is?" I questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"Of course," she answered with a knowing smile.

"Good. How many times have you seen one?"

"Barely," she replied, her expression shifting from curiosity to confusion repeatedly.

"Yeah. That's how much I've seen Roggie in this house," I acknowledged, and an awkward silence filled the room.

"He doesn't like to be called that," she said after a long time.

"I know. Perhaps that's why he's angry? And he hasn't come home. Have I let out that name unknowingly?"

"I doubt it," she responded dryly and lowered her gaze. "The food's getting cold."

"He'll be here shortly; I told him we were having his favorite."

"He picked up the phone when you called?" she asked with a shocked expression.

"Oh, no. I sent him a text message instead."

"Signora, it's three hours past dinner time, I don't think he's-"

"Don't say it, Maria," I interrupted her. "You're allowed to think about it, but I don't want to hear it. He's coming."

"Very well, Signora. I'll be in my quarters if you need me," she whispered and left the room before I could think of anything else to say.

Being left alone with my thoughts wasn't doing me a lot of good. I could use Maria's company, but I knew it was unfair to make her wait up for Rogerio. It might take a while before he's home. His work kept him away, a little more than usual these days, but I couldn't complain. He was doing his best to give us a comfortable life.

Rogerio was a man of many facets; a billionaire who owned gold mines off the coast of San Erring, an island he had inherited from his parents. He engaged in activities that raised questions about his character, but don't we all have our secrets? Sometimes I tried to put myself in his shoes and understand his perspective. This was done in the hopes that it would give me some insight into how he views things and the reason for his actions.

It didn't work, and for good cause. 'We're from different worlds,' I muttered to myself and chuckled. There was no way I could understand what it takes to be him; Rogerio Thuthai. I was merely Charlotte. Charlotte Edwards. My thoughts shifted to the life I had lived all these years.

That's all I've ever been, just Charlotte; the girl who had caught the eye of a billionaire mogul and pledged her undying love to him. That was the lie I told myself; I repeated it so much, I believed it more than the truth that stared me in the face. But lately, the foundation of my belief had started to crumble. He was coming home later than usual and spending less time with me.

"Perhaps, I need to do better," I said to myself and picked up my phone to check the time. "Midnight," I whispered and smiled wistfully.

I set it down and let my mind drift to a point in my life when I was happier and smiled sadly as the thoughts raced through my head. Shortly after, all I could hear was the constant rhythm of the grandfather clock in the hallway and then silence. My eyes closed on their own accord, and I slowly lowered my head and placed it on the table.

I felt something warm pooling beneath my face as I tried to make myself comfortable, but I was too drowsy to pay it any attention. Soon, I had drifted into a deep sleep, and the world around me faded into the distance. I had slipped into the same dream that had plagued me these past few weeks. I dreamt of Rogerio and me, but this time it was different. I was in the streets shouting his name as he walked away; he didn't turn back, even when I begged him to stay with me.

A few moments later, the sound of doors being banged sent waves of shock throughout my body. I jolted from my current position and looked at the time in confusion. "4 am," I muttered in confusion as cold liquid trickled down my left cheek.

The door opened instantly, and Rogerio stormed into the room with his suitcase in his hand. "Why do you look like that?" he asked as his eyes flashed with anger at the scene before him.

I looked around in confusion and realized that I had fallen asleep at the table. I lowered my gaze and stared at the table. My hair dripped with food particles from the plate which was positioned in front of me.

"I..." I stammered, raising my head to meet his gaze. "I was waiting for you."

"Why? So you could give me cold food or that bowl you just dipped your head in?!" he yelled angrily, and I flinched at his tone.

I felt fear take over my body and swallow me as he walked towards me with slow, steady strides. When he stepped into the light, I could see his features better as he towered over me. His eyes were a brown pool that drew in anyone who looked into them, but this time, they exuded the rage he felt just by staring at me. My gaze shifted to his clothes and his hair; he was wearing his favorite three-piece suit with his hair slicked back into place.

I opened my mouth to say something, and he glared at me, then tossed a brown envelope on the table. I resisted the urge to whimper as he placed his hands on the table and turned his eyes back to my face. His expression had switched from mere rage to disgust, and the tension in the room was palpable. He opened his mouth, and his breath reeked of alcohol as he spoke.

I coughed a little as the smell hit me, and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"You're so useless! You're falling asleep in your own food now? Why do I even need you here?!" he yelled, and I backed away.

The chair tilted slightly, threatening to fall, but I shifted it back into position to steady it.

"I... We had woken up early this morning to get ingredients to make your favorite meal and..."

"I don't want to know how you spent your day, Charlotte, nor do I want to eat food that you've fallen asleep in! Can't even do anything right!" he bellowed and stormed out of the room towards the front door.

I jumped to my feet and followed him. "Rogerio!" I shouted and winced as the sound of my voice resounded in the hall. "Roggie! Wait!"

He stopped in his tracks and spun around. His eyes shone with fury as he exhaled and stuffed his hands into his pocket. "Don't ever call me that," he uttered calmly.

The sudden switch in his tone left me feeling uneasy; I was used to his yelling. This sounded like something terrible was just around the corner. "I'm sorry, Rogerio... I"

"I don't want to hear it! You know what? Wait right here," he stated and he went back into the dining room.

A few seconds later, he stepped into the hall holding an envelope. I remembered it was the same one he had placed on the table.

"What's... What's that?" I inquired, wiping away the sauce that trickled from my hair to my shoulders.

"You'll see," he sneered with a chuckle, tore it open, and then flung the envelope at me.

I looked at the papers that had landed at my feet and then back at him. He stood rooted in one spot, watching me with an unreadable expression. Slowly, I bent down and picked up the papers. My hands started to shake as my mind translated the words written boldly on them.

"What is this, Rogerio? Why am I holding divorce papers? Who are these for?"

"Surely, you can't be that slow, Charlotte. They are for you. Us. We're getting a divorce," he grinned.

Time seemed to stop as the realization of his words hit me. I staggered backward a little as he continued speaking, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. All I could hear was a loud ringing in my ears and his last words on a loop.

"We're not getting a divorce!" I yelled and tore the papers in two. "We are in a relationship, Rogerio. I love you, and we should be working on the marriage, not chickening out of it."

He blinked and chuckled as a shocked expression crossed his face. "I've always known you were a crazy woman. We're done. I want nothing to do with you, and fortunately, I have a copy of those papers. All signed. I'll keep sending them to you until you sign them. And look in the mirror for a moment," he responded, pointing to the mirror positioned on the wall behind me.

"Would you want to be in a relationship with yourself?" he demanded and he walked out of the door.

I stood in that position for a few minutes, paralyzed with shock, and slowly turned to catch my reflection in the mirror. I saw my physical state and broke into tears as the shredded papers fell to the ground.

CHARLOTTE

"Rogerio," I whispered as he shut the door behind him and stepped into the night. The clock ticked softly in the corner of the room as my heart pounded against my chest. I clutched the sides of my stomach to steady my body as a sharp pain shot up my spine, and my eyes ached terribly.

I stood up a few seconds later to look at myself in the mirror again. My reflection stared back at me as my heart broke into a million pieces.

"I did everything right!" I yelled and sobbed loudly. I heard the door open and looked up, expecting to see him and hear that he had changed his mind, but it was the door that led to the staff quarters, not the one he had walked through.

I felt whatever was left of my dignity shed as Maria stepped into the hallway. "Signora," she said and ran towards me, enveloping me in an embrace. "Let's get you out of here."

"I did everything right, Maria," I repeated in between sobs. She sighed and patted my head.

"Let's get you into the bedroom. This has caused quite a stir. We can't let the other staff see you in this state. Come," she uttered calmly, and she led me down the hallway to my bedroom.

I let her guide me, as I could barely make sense of what had happened. I had gone from being happily married to tearing up divorce papers. "How did I get here?" I asked no one in particular as she led me to the bed, and I sat down.

"Stay here, I'll be back with..." Her eyes roamed my entire body, and she smiled wistfully. "A lot of things. Stay here, Signora, please."

I exhaled and nodded in response. I had sobbed so much that my throat was sore, and I was scared to say anything so I wouldn't break into a fresh batch of tears. I slipped to the floor as she shut the door behind her and stared at the picture placed on the wall in front of me.

It was the only picture Rogerio, and I had of our wedding. I had placed it in the sitting room, but his mother showed her disapproval when she visited, and his grandfather made a snide comment. The next morning, he asked the staff to take the picture in the bedroom.

I sat up and looked around the room. We spent only one night together in this room, and that should've told me everything I needed to know at the time. But I had fallen in love with him; I didn't mind how terribly his family treated me. He still paid attention to me at the time; he made me feel the same way I felt the night he walked into the bar.

Rogerio and I had met under what you would call 'regular circumstances,' but our marriage had been a tad different. He walked into the bar where I was working one evening, looking sad and lost, so I kept the bar open just for him for the next two hours. During that time, we got to know each other better, and he invited me to have dinner with his family that weekend.

On our way to the venue, he informed me that his girlfriend had abandoned him a few weeks before their wedding, and his parents were insisting that the only way he could claim his inheritance was by getting married. He asked me to marry him and convince his mother and grandfather that we had been dating for a while now, but they sniffed out the lie before it could be told.

When we arrived, they told him that they were disappointed he wasn't marrying someone who belonged to their class but didn't object to the wedding. I paid no heed to their caustic remarks at the time; I had been nice to a guy for a few hours, and he was offering me a better life than what I had bartending, and I was ready to grab it with both hands.

The weeks following that meeting changed my perspective. I realized I wasn't just interested in Rogerio for his money. As we spent time together planning the wedding, I got to see a different side of him. His ability to organize things and still schedule dates for us to have some fun and get to know each other more left me feeling things I would never have considered for him. A month before the wedding, I was certain I was in love with him.

I could swear on my life that even if he didn't have all this wealth, he was still someone I could look forward to being with for the rest of my life. Our wedding was the talk of the city.

I cried midway through the reception. I knew no one in attendance, nor could I invite any family members to come over. Dead people don't get invites to parties, and you can't really invite family members who have never cared about you to your wedding.

While the audience fawned over me, thinking my tears were those of a happy bride, I felt a little alone and decided that I would make the best of this opportunity to build a family with the Thuthais. All of that had been taken away from me in one night.

"We're getting a divorce," I repeated and smiled as tears streaked down my cheeks.

My thoughts shifted to the relationship my parents had before they died. I had been born into a caring family. My parents, Chloe and Larry Edwards were loving parents; they were high school sweethearts who stuck with each other and got married after college. I grew up in a family that set an example of the type of family I would want for myself.

My parents made it easy for me to grow around warmth and love; I never witnessed them having a single argument up until that terrible accident that took them from me. Their lessons about life and empathy set the tone for the type of home I wanted to build with someone I loved.

Love at first sight and a beautiful home filled with love were all I ever wanted, but I quickly learned that things can go south. My attention turned to the door, which was being pushed open.

Maria stepped through the doors carrying a tray with warm towels stacked high and pills in a small container. She set them down next to me and left the room to grab a bowl and a jug of water.

When she stepped back into the room, she handed me the painkillers and started cleaning the food off my body and hair. I had spent two years married to Rogerio, and she was the only person who treated me like an actual human being.

"Signora, I'm going to get the bath running now. Would you like something to eat?"

She dropped the stained towels onto the tray, poured some water into the cup, and handed it to me. "Drink up; it'll help you feel better."

"I don't think anything would help me feel better, Maria. I'm not even sure how I feel," I responded, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Signora, I don't think it's in my place to say anything, but I'd like to ask this. Now that you know Signor Rogerio doesn't want to be married to you anymore, what next?"

"Why do you always have to be the one that says what everyone else is thinking, Maria? I've been trying to avoid that."

"I'm sorry, Signora," she apologized, lowering her gaze. She picked up the tray and rose to her feet.

"Rogerio isn't serious about breaking up," I started, and she let out an exhausted sigh. "I know you don't believe it, but there was a time Rogerio loved me. I just need to remind him about that."

"He said he'd keep sending the papers until you sign them, Signora."

"Good thing I can also use my hands to tear them up. I'm going to fight for our marriage, Maria. When he returns, I'll talk to him. He'll be calmer, and we will have a conversation about couple's therapy or some other way to make our marriage better."

She looked at me long and hard, then shook her head slowly. "Alright, Signora, I'm certain you'll always know what's best for you. Rest now; you'll need your energy in the morning. I'll run the bath and will be in the staff quarters if you need me."

"Thank you, Maria," I said. She nodded in response and left the room. I stood up from my seated position and crawled onto the bed. The drugs had started to take effect, which left me feeling drowsy. My eyes closed as soon as my head rested on the soft pillows.

I needed all the strength I could get for tomorrow. "Roggie's coming," I muttered, and I slipped into a deep sleep.

CHARLOTTE

I woke up to the sound of hurried footsteps moving through the house and voices yelling in unison. Too disoriented to make sense of it, I struggled to block out the noise coming from the engines of trucks revving in the distance. Yawning and stretching my arms, I sat up, looking around the room with a confused expression.

My mind felt like a blank slate for a hot minute, delighted yet frightened at the prospect. But a few seconds later, the feeling dispersed as my brain started to recall the events of last night.

I sighed and smiled sadly. Life had taken a different turn, one I couldn't deny I hadn't foreseen as the days rolled by. I remembered the terms of the marriage that Rogerio and I had. We hadn't started our relationship on the basis of love, but I could swear we were great friends.

When I fell in love with him, he never made it feel like it was an unrequited love. I felt safe and secure, like I had found someone who was ready to stick with me through thick and thin until he gained access to his inheritance. Slowly, the veil came off, and I saw him for who he truly was, but I was too invested in the union to walk away.

I wanted to make it work and build a life like the one I had seen my parents thrive in before their deaths. 'If wishes were horses...' I mumbled under my breath, stopping midway, and closing my eyes.

The clause didn't fully apply to me, as I had lived a life of luxury and affluence, but it couldn't compensate for the neglect I felt in my marriage to a Thuthai.

His family didn't make it any better; they utilized whatever chance they got to remind me that I wasn't worth being married to their son. Given the agreement with Rogerio, I couldn't tell them that I was actually doing their family a favor by being there. It hurt like hell that he didn't try to defend me, either.

But I had grown to love him, so none of that really mattered. I turned my head to the door as a knock pulled me out of my reverie. "Signora? Are you awake yet?"

"Yes, Maria. I'm surprised I slept a wink. Come in..." I answered and waited for her to open the door, then step into the room. As she made her way through the entrance, the commotion from the hallway caught my attention.

"What's that?" I asked, and she smiled wistfully, then shut the door behind her.

"Just people... moving around. I think you should worry about yourself, especially after the night you've just had."

I watched as Maria placed the tray on the table in the center of the room. "Maria, I appreciate your concern, but I believe I am capable of choosing what thoughts to dwell on. This doesn't seem like a usual morning at the estate. Please update me on the current situation, or I will seek out the information myself."

"Signora... I," she started to say, then hesitated. She lowered her gaze and clasped her fingers behind her.

"Your silence is worse than the muffled sounds I hear outside my door. I am as curious as I am concerned, so speak up already."

"Very well. It's Signor Rogerio, he's back..."

"He is?!" I clapped my hands excitedly. "See? I told you he'd be back. Now we only need a minute to ourselves, we could have breakfast together. Or lunch, whatever the time is," I replied and jumped off the bed.

She opened her mouth to say something but decided against it. My gaze landed on the tray she had brought with her. "Is that my breakfast?"

"Yes," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Great! Take it to the dining room, get a plate for my husband as well," I answered, sprinting out of the room as I heard the sound of his voice in the distance.

"Signora, don't," she started to say, but I was already out of the room and I had shut the door behind me.

My excitement gave way to confusion as a strange man walked past me in the hallway, carrying two suitcases.

"Hey! Who are you and where are you taking those bags?" I asked, and he stopped in his tracks, looked at me with soulful eyes, and continued walking.

What is happening? I looked around the hallway. Everyone who walked past me had one thing in common: they were wearing a blue shirt and brown khaki pants, and they all carried one thing or another.

I looked at the walls and felt a knot in my stomach. The only pieces that were left hanging were the ones I had added to the collection; the walls felt bare and different in a way that made me start feeling like something had been taken from me. I followed the sound of Rogerio's voice into the library and stopped at the door. He wasn't alone; some other men were in the room with him.

Leaning against the doorframe, I watched them converse for a few minutes before locking gazes with one of the men: Paul Cohhen, the priest who officiated at our wedding.

My eyes moved back to Rogerio, who was standing with his back to the entrance, still wearing the same clothes he had on last night. He turned around and caught me staring at him. When our eyes met, I felt a chill wash over me from the icy glare he gave me.

"Leave us," he said to the men, and they exited the room in a heartbeat. They seemed relieved to be out of there, and for some reason, I envied them. My mind had started to piece together bits of the puzzle, but a part of me remained in denial.

The other part of me wanted to turn around and run in the opposite direction to avoid whatever was coming. "Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand there?"

"I'm not sure," I answered, turning to look at the hallway. "What's happening out there?"

"Oh, that? I'm moving. No, that's not how to break it to you properly, I'm leaving, Charlotte. Forever."

I turned to look at him as he placed his hands across his chest. "You can't be serious," I muttered, and he chuckled in response.

"I've never been more serious about anything in my life. You mean nothing to me; I don't want to be here, and you're being an asshole about signing the papers, so I'm leaving."

"You don't mean that, right?" I demanded and stepped into the room. "You don't mean that, do you?"

"What? Leaving? Oh yes, I realize that you just woke up so it might take a little longer than usual to process things, but I'll give you a quick update: the people you saw in the hallway? They're movers. The trucks parked outside are here to take my things out of this wretched house."

"No, not that. You don't really mean it when you say I mean nothing to you. You're just angry about something I've done, and I understand it. We can make this work, Rogerio; we could go to therapy, go on a vacation, or something. Anything but this, you don't have to move out of your own house to prove a point."

"Sometimes, I wonder if you were always this slow and I didn't catch it in time or if you like to act obtuse on purpose. Let me clarify something for you: our marriage was an act of convenience. It was useful to meet our needs at the time, and it has run its course. I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of you."

"Rogerio, I..."

"Shut up and let me finish. There's nothing you can say or do that will change the events of things. I can't throw you out of the estate; it became yours when we got married and even after the divorce, it'll be yours. But I can leave, and that's what I'm doing."

He turned around and pointed to a black envelope on the table. "That's a copy of the divorce papers. Try not to tear them up this time. Sign them. If you attempt to contact me without my lawyers present, I will file a restraining order against you or find something to press charges about. It's your choice, this house or prison." He added, picked up his suitcase, and left the room.