His Regret: I Am Untouchable Now

QUINN

“Happy 3^rd Anniversary, Quinn. This is your third year of marriage without a child.”

I stared at the message a few seconds later before locking my phone quietly.

My mother-in-law never missed an opportunity to remind me of my failure as a wife. Tonight was no different.

The soup had gone cold twice already. I reheated it for the third time while staring at the digital clock above the refrigerator. It was already 10:47 PM.

Three candles burned at the center of the dining table, their flames smaller now. Beside them sat the wedding anniversary cake I had picked up that afternoon.

I stood in line for almost an hour because the bakery claimed it was their “best custom design,” and I was ready to do anything just to please Jasper Finn, my beloved husband.

Happy 3^rd Anniversary, Jasper & Quinn.

The gold lettering glittered under the light. I swallowed the ache under my throat and forced myself to look away. Maybe traffic was bad, or another meeting ran late.

The sound of the front door opening snapped me out of my thoughts. I exhaled deeply with relief.

“Jasper,” I rushed to welcome him.

He barely looked at me. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and exhaustion shadowed his face, but it wasn’t the type that came from work.

I had spent years with this man, so I knew the difference.

Still, I smiled. Because that was what I had become in this marriage. A woman constantly pretending not to notice the things slowly destroying her.

“You are late,” I said softly, “dinner is ready.”

His eyes swept across the dining table, scanning the cake, candles, flowers and the carefully arranged plates.

He straightened before speaking.

“Let’s get a divorce, Quinn.”

The tragic words settled over me quietly. My heart folded inward so sharply I almost felt physical pain.

I stared at him, maybe I heard wrong.

“What?” I asked again as if I didn’t hear the first time.

Jasper stepped further into the room.

“I said I want a divorce.”

The words were more sound and deliberate this time. I nodded like I had expected it all along.

“Jasper,” I let out a strained laugh, “this isn’t funny.”

His gaze never wavered. I looked at him properly then. This was not the man I fell in love with at a charity gala three years ago.

Not the man who pursued me with quiet persistence until I believed I had finally been chosen by someone.

No.

This man standing before me looked emotionally elsewhere already.

“It’s our anniversary today,” I whispered.

“I know.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

His jaw tightened faintly. “Because there is nothing left to continue.”

I almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it. When had there ever been anything to begin with?

Jasper reached into his briefcase and placed a document on the dining table beside the untouched cake.

“Sign it.”

My eyes lowered slowly.

DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

For a moment, the room was painfully quiet. Rain tapped softly against the windows.

I remembered standing beside Jasper on our wedding day, feeling like the luckiest woman alive.

“The Westbridge villa will be transferred to your name,” he continued. “You’ll also receive fifty million.”

Was that compensation? Three years of my life reduced to money?

“You already prepared everything,” I said quietly.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

I bit back a cry. Every word from him punished me because a part of me doesn’t want this. I still want him to stay!

Jasper loosened his cufflink. “Think before turning this into something difficult,” he said.

The quiet warning beneath his tone made me pause.

He turned and walked toward the bathroom, leaving the words behind to press my chest.

The second the door shut behind him, my phone vibrated against the counter. It was a message from an unknown number.

I almost ignored it. But on a second thought, I opened it.

Everything inside me shattered.

“If I were you, I’d sign quickly instead of shamelessly clinging to a man who never wanted you. Three years and still barren? Honestly embarrassing. He’s been sleeping in my bed for the past three nights. Want proof?”

My breathing paused as the photos loaded one after another. Jasper lay shirtless and sweaty. Another woman’s hands spread possessively across his chest as they cuddled.

In one picture, he was kissing her neck. The phone nearly slipped from my hand.

Deep down, I had known for a long time. But what disturbed me was how intimate he looked with her. I couldn’t remember the last time Jasper touched me like that.

I was that useless woman who couldn’t produce an heir for the Finn family. I endured it all because I loved him. God. What a stupid woman I had been.

The bathroom door opened, and Jasper walked out, adjusting his sleeves.

His eyes dropped briefly to the phone trembling in my hands. He noticed my expression immediately.

“How long have you been cheating on me?” I asked quietly.

He kept silent. That hurt more. Because the silence was confirmation. I looked down at the divorce papers again. Suddenly, they felt long overdue. No longer shocking.

“Fine,” I whispered.

Jasper frowned slightly. “Fine?”

I picked up the pen before my courage disappeared. His gaze sharpened immediately. Maybe he expected tears, begging, or another humiliating attempt to keep him.

My chest ached so badly I could barely breathe. But I refused to let him see me break again.

My fingers tightened painfully around the pen.

Three years ago, I signed my name to become Quinn Finn. Tonight, I signed it to become alone again.

Quinn Ledger.

The moment I was done, I felt an unbearable emptiness spread through my chest. I carried the loss quietly.

Jasper stared at the signature. “That easily?”

For the first time that night, his expression cracked. As though my acceptance somehow offended him.

“You should move out tonight,” he said coldly.

The words hurt, but not enough to destroy me anymore.

“I understand,” I said quietly.

“Be at the courthouse tomorrow by nine.”

I nodded, then walked away before he could see the tears burning behind my eyes.

By midnight, my belongings were piled outside the estate like discarded trash.

Suitcases, boxes, clothes, shoes, and even my jewelry cases were dumped carelessly onto the wet driveway.

“Careful with that,” I said quietly as one maid nearly dropped a box containing my documents.

The older housekeeper scoffed openly. “No need to act like the mistress of this house anymore.”

Laughter spread quietly among the servants. I lowered my gaze and continued packing. Dignity was the only thing they hadn’t taken from me yet.

Just then, headlights swept across the driveway, and a sleek black car pulled over. My fingers tightened around the suitcase handle.

Red heels touched the wet pavement first. Then came the familiar perfume. My stomach dropped before she even stepped fully into the light.

Seraphina.

My stepsister smiled the moment our eyes met. She looked at the scattered luggage around me and tilted her head sweetly.

“Oh,” she said softly. “I thought they would’ve thrown you out already.”