Her Homecoming Is Our Farewell

The post-lunch lull had wrapped the restaurant in silence. Yuliana Beckett broke it with a calm declaration, laying out her plans so abruptly that her best friend, Madelyn Gardner, could only stare at her in disbelief.

"Yuliana, moving abroad is a huge decision," Madelyn said. "Are you really not going to talk it over with Charlie?"

Rain drizzled against the window. Yuliana absentmindedly stirred her cold coffee, her voice flat as she replied, "We're already divorced."

"What?"

The news hit Madelyn so hard that her fork slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor. Yet, the shock lasted only a moment before she sprang to Yuliana's defense.

"Charlie actually agreed to that? Everyone has seen how devoted you've been to him these past three years. Even someone with a heart of stone would have softened by now. Does he really feel nothing for you?"

Yuliana gave a faint smile, but the light in her eyes dimmed.

The truth was, she didn't actually know if her husband, Charlie Zimmer, had truly agreed or not.

Two weeks earlier, she had handed him the divorce papers while he was buried in work. Moving from one document to the next, he probably assumed it was just another contract in the pile and signed it without so much as a glance.

Since then, neither of them had brought it up.

There were only two weeks left until the divorce became official. After that, their marriage—built entirely on misunderstandings—would finally be over.

The sudden ring of her phone snapped Yuliana out of her thoughts.

"It's pouring out there," a deep male voice said on the other end. "Send me your location. I'll come pick you up."

She sent him the address.

A few moments later, a man in a long brown trench coat strode into the restaurant. Rain was pouring outside, soaking a wide patch across his shoulders, with droplets clinging to the tips of his hair.

Madelyn was still reeling, her mouth opening to demand how Charlie could possibly have agreed to the divorce, but Yuliana cut her off before she could say a word.

"If there's nothing else, I should get going. I'll call you later," Yuliana said, standing up. She grabbed her coat and followed Charlie out into the rain.

During the drive back, Yuliana remained lost in thought, her heart heavy. The weather forecast droned on from the car radio, but she didn't register a single word.

"Yuliana," Charlie called out, breaking the long silence. "What was that document I signed for you two weeks ago?"

His question snapped her out of her daze.

Two weeks had gone by, and only now had he noticed. Then again, it wasn't surprising. When had he ever paid attention to anything about her? His heart only had room for Alyssa Larson.

Yuliana pressed her lips together, hesitating over whether to tell him the truth about the papers.

Just then, Charlie's phone rang. A woman's voice came through the line, sugary and cloying, "Charlie, it's thundering outside. I'm so scared. Can you come over and keep me company?"

At the sound of that whining tone, Charlie's expression darkened at once. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that veins stood out on the back of his hand.

His voice sharpened with warning. "Alyssa, I've told you many times. I'm a married man."

The line went quiet for a beat before Alyssa replied, completely unfazed, "Have you forgotten? That title was supposed to be mine. Yuliana is just living the life I was meant to have."

Alyssa's words sent a surge of anger through Charlie, yet he looked trapped. He bit his lip hard, as though wrestling with an impossible choice.

For years, Alyssa had been the only woman capable of making Charlie lose his composure.

At the next traffic light, he suddenly swerved, changing lanes to take a different route.

"You know I have a weak heart," Alyssa continued. "If the thunder startled me and something happened…"

She broke off abruptly. After a long pause, she spoke again, her voice choked with tears, "I understand. I won't bother you anymore. I hope you two are happy."

The call ended, but Charlie's brows remained tightly furrowed. He abruptly pulled over to the shoulder, tires spraying water as the car screeched to a stop.

He slumped forward, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel, his expression twisted in torment. After a long moment, he let out a resigned sigh, pulled out his phone, and typed a short message.

"I'll be there soon."

Yuliana watched him hit "send". Before he could say anything, she beat him to it. "It's fine. Go take care of whatever you need to. I'll find my own way back."

Charlie watched her open the car door and step into the downpour. When he saw her standing there, bracing herself beneath her umbrella, a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

"I'll come find you as soon as I'm done."

Yuliana stood in the rain, watching him speed away until his car disappeared into the gray mist.

They were in the middle of nowhere, and the weather was awful. The chances of catching a cab were slim to none.

Charlie must have regretted his youthful impulsiveness long ago.

The only reason he still bothered to play the role of a husband was out of lingering responsibility—or perhaps guilt. Whatever it was, she knew it wasn't love.