The Reason For The Divorce

Rachel's POV:

When I spoke those words, an eerie silence settled over the room.

The man above me froze mid-action. "What did you just say?"

Even though I knew he heard me perfectly, I repeated with resolve, "Let's get a divorce."

Dean immediately pulled back, standing up with a cold, detached tone. "How much are you asking for?"

"Not a cent."

I reached under the pillow and retrieved the divorce papers. "Take a look. If everything seems alright to you, just sign."

Dean's expression darkened. "Rachel, you'd better know when to quit. I don't have time for your petty games."

"I mentioned earlier that I had a surprise for you tonight. Well, here it is -perfect for a celebration, don't you think?"

Dean fixed his gaze on me, his face a mask of unreadable thoughts.

I met his gaze for a moment before breaking the silence with a smile. "Dean, I wish you a happy divorce."

His lips tightened into a thin line. After a few moments, he asked, "Are you serious?"

I nodded. "So, do you like your surprise?"

"Fine. Don't regret this."

With that, Dean walked out without another word.

The door slammed shut behind him.

I glanced at the divorce papers in my hands, the same ones Dean had ignored. After a while, I managed a small, faint smile.

I wished myself a happy divorce too.

That night, I packed all my belongings.

In reality, it all fits into one suitcase.

I left behind all the jewelry, bags, shoes, and clothes Dean had bought me. None of it was given with true generosity, and these outwardly glamorous items had become as meaningless as our marriage.

To me, they were worthless.

As I was leaving, I looked back at the divorce papers lying coldly on the coffee table. I picked them up one last time.

Passing through the dining area, I noticed the tableware set for Dean remained untouched and pristine.

This anniversary, as I had expected, was far from celebratory.

But at least, it aligned with the anniversary of our divorce.

Perhaps in the future, when Dean looked back, he might even find it amusing.

Among all the things I'd done for him during our marriage, this might be the one he would find most satisfactory.

Sitting in the back of the cab, I watched the scenery blur by, feeling an unexpected sense of relief wash over me.

After three years of living the high life as Mrs. Murray, it was finally time to return to the simpler life that truly belonged to me.

When my best friend, Jane Freeman, heard I was getting a divorce, she went on a ten-minute rant about Dean in the living room. Then she asked, "That jerk really didn't give you anything? He's always spending money on young models, yet he's so stingy with you, his wife?"

"Well, he's not exactly stingy. I've earned quite a bit from him over the last three years, and he hasn't tried to take any of it back. That counts for something."

"You shouldn't think like that. You're married, so his money is your money, and your money is still your money! Besides, he's been sleeping with you. What's wrong with using some of his money?"

I could feel a headache coming on from the stress. I snapped, "Can you use a different phrase?"

Jane softened a bit. "Sorry, I just got a little carried away."

I sank deeper into the couch, struggling to keep my frustration in check. "Today, when I told him I wanted a divorce, that jerk asked me how much I wanted! He didn't even look at the divorce papers. It's like he's afraid I'll ask for a fortune and take a huge chunk from him! Is it really that big of a deal?"

"Speaking of which, why are you divorcing him? You should've just stuck it out and see who could last longer."

At her words, my eyes darkened. I whispered, "Well, Cynthia is pregnant."

Cynthia Dawson was a fairly well-known young model who had been very close to Dean. It was obvious to anyone that their relationship was more than just friendly.

After three years of marriage, I knew exactly how much Dean despised me. If he came home twice a month, that was his absolute limit.

Our intimate moments were just routine, completely devoid of affection. Dean was always rough and controlling, causing me constant torment.

Cynthia wasn't the first woman to come around while Dean was with me. I initially brushed it off.

But a week ago, while I was happily picking out a gift for our third anniversary, Cynthia suddenly showed up with a pregnancy test. With a smug expression, she declared, "I'm pregnant. It's time for you to step aside and let me be Mrs. Murray."