The pain of divorce.

Claire's POV

When Damon Whitfield leaves in the early morning hours, before anyone can see him coming from my apartment, where I am staying after my divorce from Mike Green, my ex-husband, I roll back on my left side and try to get some sleep, but I cannot help but smile in bitterness. I start thinking back over the past few weeks. I was alone in this dark world. All by myself. I never thought silence could be this loud. I think back to the day of my divorce and how I got where I am today. 

*Flashback*

I sat at the edge of the oak bench outside the courthouse, divorce papers still warm in my trembling hands, my name scrawled in black ink like the final note of a requiem. The August heat pressed down on my shoulders, but I felt cold inside, as if something vital had been carved out and left bleeding. My marriage of five years ended with a piece of paper. I told myself I should feel free. Liberated. Released from the suffocating months of betrayal and lies. But all I could feel was raw humiliation. Every whispered conversation, every sympathetic glance from neighbours, every sharp sting of pity when people realised I were the woman who’d lost her husband to someone younger, prettier, crueller. I closed my eyes. I could still see it. The text I wasn’t meant to see. The pictures that made me nauseous. The perfume on his shirt that wasn’t hers. And then finally, the name Sienna Whitfield.  Sienna, with her smirk and her manicured claws, had stolen not only my husband but also my sense of worth. I pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, holding in the sob that threatened to break loose. I refused to cry, in public, in the same place where strangers had watched me sign my life away.

“Mrs. Green?” An old colleague who walked past asked. I startled, then laughed bitterly at myself.

“Not anymore,” I muttered. I didn’t even look up. I knew her voice. I just gathered my papers, my handbag, my dignity, or what little remained of it, and walked down the courthouse steps as though each one were made of glass. I walked to my apartment, where I spent five years with the man who humiliated and made a fool of me. My apartment smelled of lavender and dust. Too clean, too empty. The photos were gone from the walls. I ripped them down weeks ago, but the pale squares where the sun hadn’t touched still haunted me. I poured myself a glass of wine, then another, until the ache in my chest blurred into a dull, throbbing numbness. I have always believed in forever. I believed in vows. I believed in love. Now, I  weren’t sure what she believed in anymore. Well, at that stage, I was not. 

The next morning, Sienna made sure I remembered exactly what I lost. It was at the cafe on Main Street, the one with the big windows, where everyone in town eventually passed by. I had chosen a corner seat, hoping to blend into the wallpaper with my laptop and my coffee. But fate, or cruelty, had other plans.

“Claire!” Sienna’s voice was honey over poison.

My spine stiffened. I looked up, and there she was, Sienna, radiant in a silk blouse that whispered expensive, her golden hair loose around her shoulders. And right behind her, my ex-husband, Mike, was carrying her purse like an obedient chauffeur.

“Sienna.” I forced a smile. Sienna leaned over my table, lips curving in mock sympathy.

“I just wanted to say. I do hope you’re doing well. It can’t be easy, all this, um, change. But Mike and I are very happy.” She reached back, brushing her fingers over Mike’s arm like she was stroking a prize she won at auction. Mark wouldn’t even meet my eyes. I swallowed her coffee like it was the best coffee I've ever had and refused to give Sienna the satisfaction of a response. Sienna smirked.

“Don’t take it personally. He just needed a real woman.”She whispered conspiratorially. The words cut deep, sharper than glass. My nails bit into my palms, but I kept my gaze steady. 

"You’re confusing real with cheap. It happens." I whispered back. The smile slipped from Sienna’s lips for half a second before she recovered, her laughter ringing out too loudly. She leaned back, feigning amusement.

“Still bitter, I see. Don’t worry. You’ll find someone ... Eventually,” Her eyes glittered with malice. Then she swept out the door, Mike in tow. I sat frozen, shaking, my heart pounding against my ribs like it wanted to claw its way out. I hated Sienna. I hated her smugness, her cruelty, her ability to twist the knife, but more than that, I hated myself for letting it hurt. That night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. The wine hadn’t dulled my thoughts this time. Every word Sienna spoke echoed in my mind, dripping venom.

"You’ll find someone… eventually." The words were on repeat in my brain. I turned my head into the pillow, fighting the tears. I didn’t want someone. I didn’t want romance, or flowers, or whispered promises that could turn into lies. I wanted peace. I wanted myself back. But deep down, in the corner of my soul I tried hardest to ignore, there was another truth. I wanted revenge, not in the slashing-tires, screaming-in-public kind of way. But in the quiet, undeniable way of living better, stronger, happier than Sienna ever could. I didn’t know how I would do it, but I swore I would.

*End of flashback*

I was working for my ex-husband. I didn't have to work anymore, as he chased me away. However, there was one thing Mike forgot. I was the one who was always saving his company when he was busy with his affairs. I was the one always covering for him. Who is going to do it now for him? I am going to be there. I was the one running his business behind the scenes while he was enjoying life. We will see how we will cope without me.

I sigh. I get out of bed to get a cup of coffee and smile when I think about tonight. I may not be able to show the world I have moved on, but I sure as hell am happier than Sienna at the moment. At least Damon is a much better lover than Mike can ever be. However, I cannot betray Damon and tell everybody about our affair. Sienna is his niece. She is family. I know Damon is torn between me and his family. I know he's torn between his feelings for me and his loyalty to his family.