Chapter Four: Revelations

“Your Honor,” he remarked and the room fell silent.

Every gaze shifted toward Nathan with mine included, and for a brief moment, I wondered if this was it.

The apology. Or maybe the explanation.

Or the grand realization that should have happened months ago. Even years ago.

Instead, Nathan ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply upon saying, “This is ridiculous.”

The disappointment shouldn’t have surprised me, yet somehow it still did.

The judge remained impassive.

“Alpha Blackwell?”

Nathan scoffed and stated, “My wife is just upset.”

I blinked twice slowly at him, then at the air.

“Pardon me?” I voiced.

He ignored me, and of course he did. It’s exactly what he had spent years doing.

“This is clearly an emotional decision, like look,” he muttered and pointed at me.

“We’ve had disagreements before. I understand she’s frustrated, but this doesn’t need to become a legal matter,” he continued.

A strange feeling ran through me, not anger, neither it was sadness. Something colder, the realization that he genuinely is unbelievable even at this point. That even now, sitting in a courtroom with a judge, with signed documents in front of him, he still thought I’m just throwing a tantrum.

“Can you believe him?” I whispered to my lawyer and he scoffed to back me up.

The judge glanced at me and queried, “Mrs. Blackwell?”

I smiled even it felt like I was stabbing myself in my chest.

“Please continue the proceedings, your Honor.”

Nathan’s composure cracked upon that one statement.

“Genevieve.”

There was warning, even threat in his voice now, the kind he used during pack meetings, the voice that used to scare and make people listen to him. The voice that used to work on me.

Used to.

The judge folded his hands.

“Alpha Blackwell, unless you intend to challenge the legality of the documents, this court has no grounds to suspend the proceedings.”

Nathan’s jaw tightened as his eyes dropped to the paperwork again.

I could practically see the thoughts moving behind his reactions, he was searching, calculating, trying to identify a loophole, or perhaps a mistake.

For Nathan Blackwell, there has to be a way.

There always has. Problems don’t happen to him, he solved them, control them, manage them, if there’s something wrong that’s out of his control, he finds a hole to fit into.

If something went wrong, there was usually someone nearby to blame or take the blame for him.

Today, unfortunately for him, the evidence was written in his own handwriting, and his own shield protecting him from everything is the one across from him.

“You knew I hadn’t read it.”

He spoke in a bewildered manner and I just stared at him in return. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I laughed, loud enough for even the guards guarding the door will be able to hear it.

The sound startled even me, because even how loud it was, it wasn’t a happy laugh, it was exhausted. I was exhausted.

It was months of disappointment compressed into a single breath.

“You really don’t hear yourself, do you?”

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, which made Nathan frown.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he probed.

I lifted my gaze up and blinked as much as I can for my eyes not to tear up. Then leaned back on my chair as I was looking at him. I studied him and looked at him from head to toe.

This man I had loved.

This man I had chosen.

This man who still couldn’t understand why we were here.

“It means that after everything, you biggest concern isn’t why your wife wants a divorce,” I stated.

His expression hardened.

“Your biggest concern should be the idea that you didn’t bother reading a paper before signing it,” I added.

Something flickered across his face.

The clerk quietly organized another stack of documents and the sound of shuffling paper seemed unnaturally louder this time.

Perhaps because nobody else was speaking and nobody else knew what to say.

The marriage was ending, and the husband was only discovering it now.

The absurdity of it all would have been funny if I had completely moved on from this, but I still wasn’t. I am enraged, disappointed, angry, sad, every negative emotion I could point out.

Nathan finally backed down and looked away.

He looked towards the rain-streaked courthouse windows. Towards anything, but me.

When he spoke again, his voice was lower.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I closed my eyes hearing the question. That was a stupid, impossible question.

Why didn’t I tell him? As if I hadn’t spent years trying.

As if every missed dinner wasn’t a conversation. Every unanswered call, every empty promise wasn’t.

As if heartbreak only counted when it was formally and directly announced.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and decided to meet his gaze.

“I did tell you.” My voice remained calm even my hands were shaking so bad.

“I told you every time I waited for you, and you didn’t come.”

Nathan didn’t move.

“I told you every anniversary you forgot.”

Still silence.

“I told you every time another woman knew where you were when I didn’t.”

That one landed differently on him as his eyes widened and his shoulders showed tension, like he froze on his spot.

Now his eyes looked concerned and filled with guilt.

Now he finally understood what this was about.

The disappointments.

The absence.

Her.

Rosalie.