I WANT A DIVORCE

Jenny’s POV

I watched him stand there in disbelief, staring at me as though he had been struck by lightning. His feet were rooted to the floor, his body stiff, unmoving, as if he had turned into a statue. For the first time since I had known James, he looked lost. Completely lost.

I looked at him coldly. My heart felt like a block of ice in my chest, heavy and unyielding. He had said he would give me whatever I wanted. He had said it himself, without hesitation.

“I want a divorce,” I repeated, this time clearly, firmly, each word pronounced with painful certainty.

My voice did not shake. I made sure of that. I refused to let him hear weakness in my tone.

“If you cannot do that,” I continued, my gaze unwavering, “then get lost.”

I turned away from him and lay back down, pulling the blanket over my body. I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep, pretending he no longer existed. I heard his breath hitch. I heard the faint shuffle of his feet. Then, finally, the sound of the door closing.

The moment the room fell silent, the tears I had been holding back burst free. They poured endlessly, soaking into the pillow as I curled under the covers, biting my lip to keep myself from crying out loud. My body trembled as sobs wracked through me, each one ripping through my chest like a blade.

Three years.

Three years of marriage. Three years of trust, of devotion, of giving him everything I had. All of it ruined by a relationship that had not even lasted a year. Him and Vanessa. A past that should have stayed buried, yet returned to destroy everything I had built.

I clenched my fists tightly as I hugged my stomach, my fingers digging into the thin hospital gown. Even now, even after everything, my body still remembered. I still dreamed of a child calling me every night. I still woke up expecting to feel movement beneath my palm. But there was nothing. Only emptiness.

I could not sleep. Every night passed like torture. Dark circles permanently settled beneath my eyes, shadows that refused to fade. The nurses noticed. They always did. Their concerned looks followed me whenever they entered the room. They spoke gently, cautiously, as though afraid I might shatter if they raised their voices.

But they never said much.

They worked under my husband. They knew better than to speak freely. I understood that. I even appreciated their quiet kindness. But I did not want pity. I did not need anyone looking at me like I was broken glass.

I was all alone in this world.

No parents. No relatives. No one.

James had filled that empty space for me. He had become my family, my home, my everything. And now, even that was gone.

I suppose nothing good lasts forever.

The door opened suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. Before I could even sit up, a familiar voice filled the room.

“What? Jenny. Jenny, my child.”

My mother in law rushed toward me, tears already streaming down her face. Her hands trembled as she touched my stomach, her expression filled with panic.

“The child. What about the child?”

My throat tightened. The dam broke.

“We lost the child,” I sobbed. “I lost the child.”

She pulled me into her arms, hugging me tightly as she cried with me. Her embrace was warm, maternal, something I had not felt in a very long time. I clung to her, my fingers gripping the back of her clothes as if she might disappear too.

Then I saw him.

James stood behind her. His head was lowered, his shoulders tense. Guilt hung over him like a shadow. Good. Let him feel it. Let it suffocate him. Let it wash over him until he could no longer breathe.

My mother in law turned suddenly, her eyes blazing as she faced him. Without hesitation, she slapped him. Once. Twice. Three times.

I covered my mouth in shock.

She had never raised her voice at him before. Never laid a hand on him. He was the heir to the Williams family, the pride of her life. She had always treated him like something precious, something untouchable.

“You think I did not know?” she shouted. “You think they would not tell me?”

James froze.

“You sacrificed your baby’s life for that woman of yours,” she continued, her voice shaking with rage. “That whore.”

“Mom,” James said urgently, “she is not a whore. Please stop.”

“I thought she left four years ago,” my mother in law cried. “I thought you had learned your lesson.”

“James, get out,” she screamed.

Then suddenly, her body swayed. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed.

“Mom,” I cried out, rushing forward.

Doctors were called immediately. Nurses flooded the room. James shouted orders, his voice tight with panic.

“It is all your fault,” he snapped at me as they wheeled her out.

I felt something inside me shatter.

She had poor health. She was not supposed to get angry. Everyone knew that. And yet, he looked at me as though I had summoned her here, as though I had caused everything.

“I was such a fool,” I whispered to myself as I returned to the bed.

I prayed silently that she would be okay. Despite everything, I truly hoped she would survive.

That afternoon, with the help of a nurse, I went to the ward where my mother in law had been admitted. Voices drifted from inside. I recognized them instantly. James. Vanessa.

Vanessa stood beside the bed, her voice soft, overly sweet. My mother in law did not even look at her. She huffed and turned her face away.

For a brief moment, Vanessa’s expression twisted. Her eyes turned venomous. Then she smiled again, sweet and harmless. A scheming woman. A truly scheming woman.

The nurse asked if I wanted to enter. I shook my head.

I stood there watching. When my mother in law finally took an apple from Vanessa, they looked like a happy family. James grinned widely, his hands resting comfortably on Vanessa’s shoulders.

I turned away.

Back in my room, I asked the nurse when I would be discharged. She shook her head.

“Not anytime soon,” she said gently. “Your body has not recovered. The miscarriage took a deep toll on you.”

She hesitated before adding, “If you are not careful, you may not conceive again.”

My heart dropped.

She nodded again, explaining that when I had fallen, I had hit my stomach hard, almost affecting my womb, my uterus.

I lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

I had to plan.

James did not want to divorce me. That much was clear. If he would not give me my freedom willingly, then I would take control another way.

This was not the end.

It was only the beginning.