A Divorce Waiting to Happen

I was packing up my suitcases when my husband, Ian Ludwig, returned.

Without waiting for his question, I explained that my best friend, Nova Glenhill, was getting married and that I would be her bridesmaid in a couple of days.

Ian let out a quiet sigh of relief before crouching down casually to help me pack. I merely set aside whatever he handed over without a word.

My indifference finally got to him. He snapped, "I already said everything that needed to be said over the phone! What more are you unhappy about?"

What more could I possibly be unhappy about?

One moment, Ian texted me saying that he was in a meeting and not to bother him. And the next, Francesca posted a photo on her social media flaunting that he was house-hunting with her.

The man looking at her so fondly in the photo was my husband—the same man who'd been coldly replying to my texts.

Upon seeing how silent I was, Ian said irritably, "Just tell me what you want from me. We're going to my parents' place this afternoon, so stop with that long face of yours."

I have been married to him for eight years, but I have never gotten pregnant. His parents never said anything outright, but their disappointment grew with each passing year.

They'd make passive-aggressive jabs every time we had a meal together. Ian would just watch silently, only changing the subject when he saw I was at my breaking point.

I used to think that he was stepping in to spare my feelings. But now, I realized that he simply counted on me to put up with everything.

I got up and walked into the bedroom, returning with a property transfer agreement. I handed it to Ian and said, "Sign this, and I'll put the whole thing behind us."

He raised his brows when he saw the bolded words at the top of the page. A flicker of contempt crossed his eyes.

Over the years, Ian had flown abroad countless times to see Francesca behind my back. And every time, she'd conveniently "forget" to block me from seeing her social media.

At first, he'd apologize over and over to appease me, but the apologies stopped when he saw how easily I forgave him.

Instead, he'd come back with a handbag or jewelry set, as if that was enough in place of an apology.

Although the gifts added up to a considerable sum over the years, it was still nothing compared to this house.

After a moment, Ian smirked coldly and took the property transfer agreement from me. Feeling nervous, I reached out to take it back, but was interrupted by his ringing phone.

He glanced at me, then answered the call without bothering to step away. I wasn't sure what was said to him, but his expression changed suddenly, and he turned to leave.

I quickly grabbed the corner of his shirt and said, "Sign the agreement before you go."

Ian parted his lips slightly before smirking, the mockery in his gaze evident. He flipped straight to the last page, signed his name without hesitation, then turned to walk away.

"Go to the Ludwig residence on your own later," he said.

Once the door closed behind him, I tore off the top page of the agreement, revealing the bolded words—"Divorce Agreement".

If Ian had just been patient with me before answering Francesca's call, he would've discovered the truth.

My hand trembled slightly as I held the divorce agreement.

There was only one month left, just enough to erase the eight years I spent with him.