ELISHA’S POVAnthony caught my hand in a death grip and tugged me closer. “Let go,” I said quietly, trying to pry his fingers loose.He didn’t. This time, he yanked me forward, hard enough that I stumbled straight into him.My hands hit his chest, my breath caught.The sudden closeness made my stomach twist. His arm came around my back, firm and uninvited. His breath was warm against my temple.“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice low and wary.His thumb brushed across my bottom lip.“That drink,” he murmured. “Did it taste good?”I frowned, pulling my head back.“Robert’s got good hands,” he added. “I’m sure he’s good at all kinds of things.”I didn’t get the chance to reply.Anthony leaned in and kissed me—hard. Not like a husband. Not even like a lover.It was punishing. Cold. Deliberate.I pushed at his shoulders, trying to get space between us, but his arm only locked tighter around me. I could feel the fury simmering in him—this wasn’t about affection. This was a warning.
ELISHA’S POVThe first thing I noticed was the color.A pale blue silk that matched the tone of his pocket square so precisely it couldn’t have been a coincidence. And then I saw the cut. The neckline. The pleated waist. The delicate buttons trailing down the back.My stomach dropped.Because that dress wasn’t just similar—it was mine.I felt the flush rise in my chest—not from embarrassment, but fury. The gall. The calculation. She hadn’t just raided my closet. She’d done it for this. To show up beside my husband in my dress, playing the role of the woman who’d replaced me without saying a single word.And Anthony had let her.I froze.A small group of classmates I’d been chatting with shifted awkwardly, sensing the tension but not quite sure what to do with it. The conversation we’d been having melted into silence and one of them cleared their throat and looked away.My own dress felt too tight suddenly, like it didn’t belong on me. Like maybe I didn’t belong here either.I shou
ELISHA’S POVI didn’t answer him.I didn’t have to. Anthony was still standing in the foyer when I brushed past him, purse in hand. He followed me out the door, his voice sharp behind me.“Elisha—where are you going?”I didn’t stop walking.“You’re dressed like that for him?”I reached the waiting car, the driver already holding the door open. I slid into the backseat and said evenly, “Please drive.”The driver hesitated—his eyes flicking to the figure of my husband, who was now striding down the steps toward us.“Elisha.”“Drive,” I repeated, calmly but firmly.The driver swallowed, nodded once, and pulled away from the curb.In the rearview mirror, I saw Anthony stop at the edge of the driveway, watching the car disappear. His expression was unreadable. He didn’t chase. He didn’t call again. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, jaw locked tight.***The event was held in a high glass atrium at the university’s downtown satellite campus. White lights twinkled across the ceili
ELISHA’S POVSince the fight, Anthony and I barely spoke.We didn’t argue, but the silence between us was its own kind of war—thick, cold, and always present. Words had stopped meaning anything between us. Tone mattered much more now. Eye contact, or the absence of it. Every quiet dinner. Every door closed too softly.He’d been sleeping in the guest room. It just happened. Like everything else in our marriage, it was a quiet but big change. At first, he tried. Or said he was trying. He came back to our bed one night, made small talk under the guise of reconciliation. Said we shouldn’t live like strangers. That we needed to “try again.”I didn’t say no to the idea of fixing things. I said no to how he tried to fix it. He reached for me—not with kindness, not with remorse—but with entitlement. As if sex could smooth over everything. As if my body was still his by default, no matter how absent his heart had been.I pulled away.He didn’t push. But the rejection cut. I saw it in his fa
ELISHA’S POVAnthony stared at the folder in his hands. I watched the line of his jaw tighten, the flicker in his eyes like a match about to catch.And then—A cold, hollow laugh.Without hesitation, he ripped the divorce papers in half. Then again. And again. Until the edges fluttered like confetti to the floor. He walked to the bin and threw the pieces in as casually as if they were junk mail.I stood frozen.It wasn’t the drama of it that stunned me. It was the indifference. Like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.“I spent months preparing that,” I said, quieter than I meant to. “If you don’t like the terms, we can talk about it.”Anthony turned slowly, a shadow darkening his face.“You think the terms are the problem?” he sneered. “You think you get to walk away from this marriage?” I didn’t answer. The question wasn’t rhetorical, but it wasn’t honest either.He stepped forward.And then again.Until I felt the cold press of the wall behind my back.His hands didn’t touch me
ELISHA’S POVI would’ve tried again. I really would have.For another baby. Another heartbeat. Another beginning.If Anthony had been someone worth building that future with.But he wasn’t.Not after the way he acted. Not after the way he vanished from the moment I needed him most. Not after he let them all say it was just an accident—that what Natalie did to me was just bad timing.He wasn’t cruel in the obvious ways. He didn’t scream or storm out or cheat in the dark. No—his version of cruelty was quieter.He ignored grief. Minimized it.Smiled at the right times and still managed to miss everything that mattered.I could’ve lived with the insults for the rest of my life, honestly. The family coldness. Even the loneliness. Because I was always meant to be a Möller bride, and divorce was simply not an option. But… my baby deserved better.My child deserved a father who would’ve driven through a hurricane to be at my side, not one who left me bleeding alone while buying someone else