3. The Divorce

Morning comes without mercy.

I don’t remember falling asleep, only the ache in my chest and the steady rhythm of my hand over my stomach as if I could protect my child from the world already conspiring against us.

When I wake, the motel room feels smaller. Cheaper. The walls close in like they know I don’t belong anywhere else anymore.

I shower slowly, scrubbing my skin until it burns, as though I can wash away last night. As though Elijah’s words aren’t etched into me permanently.

Bad luck.

Curse.

Barren.

I dress carefully—simple black dress, flat shoes. No makeup beyond concealer to hide the faint shadow of Alice’s slap. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.

The lawyer’s office sits in a tall glass building downtown. Cold. Sterile. Everything Elijah loves.

The conference room smells like polished wood and cold ambition.

It’s too quiet.

The kind of quiet that presses into your ears until your own breathing feels too loud, too intrusive. I sit with my hands folded in my lap, fingers laced tightly together, grounding myself so I don’t shake.

Across from me sits Elijah.

My husband.

No—soon-to-be ex-husband.

He hasn’t looked at me once since we walked in.

He’s dressed the way he always is when business matters more than feelings—tailored charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, cufflinks I bought him on our first anniversary. His posture is rigid, jaw set, eyes fixed straight ahead like I’m not even here.

To his right sits Alice.

Perfectly composed. Perfectly pleased.

I doubt the current smile on her face has fallen since the day she tossed my things out like roadside garbage.

She wears cream today, the color of victory. Her lips curl faintly at the corners when she notices my gaze, as though she’s been waiting for this moment for years. Maybe she has.

The lawyer clears his throat.

“We’re here to finalize the divorce proceedings between Mr. Elijah Griffin and Mrs. Scarlett Griffin.”

Mrs.

The word lands heavy in my chest.

Alice scoffs softly. “For now,” she mutters under her breath, not bothering to hide it.

I say nothing.

The lawyer continues, listing assets, legal jargon, settlements. I hear the words, but they don’t fully register. My mind keeps circling back to the same question.

How did it come to this so fast?

Just days ago, I was standing in my bathroom holding a pregnancy test, my heart so full it felt like it might burst. Now I’m sitting in a room full of strangers, being erased from the life I built.

“And finally,” the lawyer says, glancing between us, “we’ll address the matter of—”

The door opens.

The sound is soft, almost polite. But it slices through the room like a blade.

She walks in like she belongs here.

Tall. Elegant. Confident in a way that doesn’t ask for permission. Her heels click softly against the marble floor as she approaches the table, her presence immediately shifting the atmosphere.

Elijah stiffens.

Alice brightens.

“Ah,” Alice says warmly, standing halfway from her seat. “There you are, Elise. We were just getting started.”

Elise smiles—slow, practiced, flawless.

“I hope I’m not late,” she says, her voice smooth as silk. Her eyes flick briefly to me, then away, as if I’m no more than a piece of furniture. “Traffic was dreadful.”

She takes the empty chair beside Elijah.

No one introduces her.

No one needs to.

Elijah finally looks at me then—not with guilt, not with remorse—but with something that resembles irritation. As if my presence complicates things.

“Scarlett,” he says flatly. “This is Elise Campbell.”

Alice beams. “Elise is a delight,” she adds eagerly. “Brilliant, graceful, well-bred. Everything a woman should be.”

Elise laughs softly. “That’s too kind, Mrs. Griffin.”

She places a hand lightly on Elijah’s arm.

The gesture is subtle.

Intimate.

Possessive.

My chest tightens, but I refuse to let it show.

“Oh, darling… call me Alice. You’ve earned it. After all you’d become my future daughter in law soon enough.” Alice smiles at her and she nods in agreement.

My stomach sinks.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Elise continues, finally turning to face me fully. Her smile never reaches her eyes. “Elijah mentioned you had… struggles.”

Struggles.

The word is carefully chosen.

“I admire women who know when to step aside,” she adds gently. “It takes maturity.”

Alice nods approvingly. “Exactly. Some women simply aren’t meant for certain lives.”

I meet Elise’s gaze steadily. “And some women are very comfortable stepping into lives that aren’t theirs.”

The room goes still.

Elise’s smile sharpens—not faltering, just… tighter.

Alice slams her palm lightly on the table. “How dare you speak to her that way?” she snaps. “After everything you’ve put my son through.”

Elijah exhales sharply. “Mother.”

“No,” Alice insists. “She needs to hear it. Three years of marriage and not a single child. Do you know how embarrassing that is for a family like ours?”

My throat burns.

“She was never fit to be a Griffin,” Alice continues coldly. “Always quiet. Always lacking. I told you from the beginning, Elijah—she would drag you down.”

Elijah says nothing.

That hurts more than the words themselves.

Elise leans forward slightly, her tone gentle, almost sympathetic. “I’m sure Scarlett did her best,” she says. “Some women just aren’t… blessed in certain ways.”

Her eyes flick briefly to my stomach.

The implication is clear.

I grip the edge of the chair.

The lawyer clears his throat again, visibly uncomfortable. “Shall we proceed?”

“Yes,” Elijah says quickly. “Let’s finish this.”

The papers are slid across the table.

I sign my name with steady hands.

Scarlett Griffin.

For the last time.

When I stand, Alice watches me with open disdain. “Make sure you collect your things promptly,” she says. “This house will need cleansing.”

I straighten my spine.

“I won’t take anything that isn’t mine,” I reply calmly. “Including people.”

Elise’s eyes darken for half a second.

I turn to Elijah.

He won’t meet my gaze.

As I rise to leave, Elijah stands.

“Scarlet.”

My heart betrays me, leaping painfully in my chest.

I turn.

For half a second—just a breath—I hope.

Then he wraps an arm around Elise’s waist and pulls her close.

“Just wanted to let you know, Elise and I are together now.” he says, voice clear, deliberate. “she’s my partner.”

I don’t say anything. I’m incapable of forming words. I just nod.

Elise steps forward, placing a kiss on his lips—slow, possessive. When she pulls back, her eyes flick to me again.

“I’ll be taking your place,” she says sweetly. “I hope that’s not awkward.”

Something inside me shatters.

I don’t answer.

I don’t scream or cry or beg.

I turn and walk out.

That is the final wound.

I walk out of the building without another word.

⸻

Willow Creek disappears behind me an hour later.

I don’t look back.

The road stretches endlessly ahead, unfamiliar and terrifying, but I drive anyway. Toward the one man who warned me and still left the door open.

The drive to the house feels endless.

The city blurs past as tears finally spill down my cheeks, silent and hot. I don’t sob. I don’t scream.

I just let them fall.

When I pull into the driveway, my hands are numb from gripping the steering wheel too tightly.

The front door opens before I even knock.

He stands there, eyes softening when he sees me.

He doesn’t ask questions. He just understands immediately.

He pulls me into his arms and holds me while I cry like a child who finally ran out of strength.

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry, but I told you so,” he murmurs gently. “I’m just glad you’ve come back home.”

“Hi, dad.” I whisper gently.