CHAPTER 5

CATHERINE'S POV

The morning came too quickly. I hadn't slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan's face—not the cold version, but the way he looked six years ago when he promised me anything. Anything but love.

I dressed carefully. Not for him. For me. A navy blue dress I hadn't worn in years, one that reminded me of who I was before the Brook house swallowed me whole.

Michael texted: You want me to drive you?

No. I need to do this alone.

I'll be outside anyway. Don't argue.

I almost smiled.

Aunt Larisa's office sat on the tenth floor. I had been here once before—the day I signed the marriage papers. Back then, I trembled with hope. Now I walked with the heavy certainty of someone who had nothing left to lose.

Ryan was already there.

He sat in a leather chair, his posture rigid, his suit perfectly tailored. But when his eyes met mine, I saw something unexpected. He looked tired. Not late-night tired. Tired like he hadn't slept in weeks.

Then the mask slipped back.

"You're late," he said.

"By two minutes."

"Two minutes is still late."

I didn't respond. I sat down across from him.

Aunt Larisa removed her glasses. "Catherine, are you certain about this?"

"I've never been more certain."

She turned to Ryan. "And you?"

His jaw tightened. His eyes drifted to me for a heartbeat. "Yes. Let's get this over with."

The paperwork spread across the desk like a wound. Six years of my life dissolving into ink.

"Catherine." Ryan's voice cut through. "You're not taking anything? No settlement?"

"I don't want anything from you."

"Pride," he muttered.

"No." I set the pen to paper. "Dignity. There's a difference."

I signed my name with a steady hand. Catherine Kingsley. Not Brook. Never again.

Ryan signed without hesitation. His fingers brushed mine. I pulled back quickly.

Larisa stamped the final page. "It's done. You're divorced."

I expected relief. Or grief. But all I felt was hollow.

Ryan stood and walked toward the door. "Catherine." He stopped, back still turned. "Take care of yourself."

Then he was gone.

Michael's car waited outside. "Well?" he asked.

"It's done."

"No begging? No tears?"

I slid into the passenger seat. "He didn't even look back."

Michael started the engine. "His loss. Where to?"

I stared out the window. Somewhere out there, a version of me was still smiling. Still hopeful. I wanted to find her.

"Take me somewhere I've never been."

"Anywhere. Nowhere. Just drive."

The city swallowed us whole.

RYAN'S POV

The drive back was a blur. Ryan gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. The divorce papers sat beside him.

You're free. She's gone. Sarah is waiting.

So why did his chest feel cracked open?

He replayed the moment in Larisa's office Catherine signing without hesitation. No trembling. No tears. Just that quiet voice. Dignity. There's a difference.

He had expected her to beg. That's what the old Catherine would have done. The one who cooked dinner with a fever. The one who stayed.

But this Catherine in the navy blue dress, spine straight was someone else entirely.

Maybe, a voice whispered, this is who she always was. And you never bothered to see it.

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

The Brook house loomed ahead. Kate was in the kitchen. "Is it done?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now we can focus on Sarah. Her father is sending a team to prepare her room.

"I need air."

Ryan walked to the garden, stopping beneath the old oak tree. This was where Catherine used to sit in the mornings, drinking tea she made for herself because no one ever made it for her.

When did she stop smiling?

He couldn't remember. Maybe he just stopped looking.

His phone buzzed.

Sarah: Can you come get me tomorrow? I miss you.

He typed back: I'll be there.

He looked up at the grey sky. This is what I wanted.

Then why did it feel like he had just lost something he could never get back?

CATHERINE'S POV

Michael drove for over an hour in silence. It wasn't awkward it was the kind of silence that came from years of knowing someone.

"You're thinking too loud," he said.

"I'm not thinking at all."

"Liar."

I laughed. It came out rusty, like a door that hadn't opened in years. "Okay. Maybe I'm thinking a little."

"Want ice cream?"

"You just divorced a man who treated you like furniture. I think that deserves ice cream."

I shook my head, smiling. "Fine. You're paying."

"Obviously."

He drove to the beach a place I hadn't been since I was seventeen. We ordered ice cream and walked to the shore. I kicked off my heels and let the sand sink between my toes.

Chocolate. My favorite. The one I hadn't allowed myself in years because Ryan preferred vanilla.

"Better?" Michael asked.

"Better."

"You know," he said carefully, "Caleb meant what he said. About having your back."

"I know. But Michael, I just got divorced. I'm not looking for anything."

"I'm not saying you should marry him. I'm saying don't shut everyone out. You did that for six years. It's time to let people in again."

I looked down at my melting ice cream. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

"Then find out." He said it simply. "You're not Catherine Brook anymore. You're Catherine Kingsley. And she can be whoever she wants to be."

I thought about the diary I had found pages filled with Ryan's preferences, his schedule, his everything. I had erased myself so completely.

Almost.

"There's something I need to do."

"What's that?"

I turned back toward the car. "I need to remember who I was before I forgot."

Michael fell into step beside me. "Then let's go find her."