FOUR

THALIA

I had just placed the cardboard box in the passenger seat and was about to start the engine when someone called my name.

“Thalia!”

The voice came from behind me.

I froze for a second before turning around.

Brandon was walking out of the company building, his expression already dark with anger. He must have just finished dealing with his favourite girl upstairs.

His steps were fast and impatient as he approached my car.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

I closed the car door slowly.

“Leaving.”

His brows furrowed.

“Leaving for where?”

“Home.”

His eyes briefly shifted to the cardboard box sitting on the passenger seat, but he didn’t seem to think much of it.

Instead, his gaze returned to my face, sharp and cold.

“Good,” he said. “Then come back upstairs first.”

I didn’t move.

“You’re going to apologize to Clara,” he continued. “Right now.”

My fingers tightened around the car keys.

“No.”

For a moment, Brandon simply stared at me.

“What did you say?”

“I said no.”

The air between us seemed to freeze.

“You slapped her in front of the entire company,” he said slowly. “Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?”

I stayed silent.

Brandon stepped closer.

“I don’t know when you became this vicious,” he said. “But you’ve completely lost your sense of shame.”

Each word struck like a whip.

“You used to at least pretend to behave properly,” he continued. “Quiet. Polite. Obedient.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“But now you’re acting like some crazy woman who throws public tantrums.”

His gaze hardened.

“Do you know how pathetic that looked?”

Something inside my chest twisted.

“I’m ashamed of you.”

The words landed like a blade.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

Five years.

Five years of marriage.

Five years of trying to be the perfect wife.

And in the end, this was what he thought of me.

Like I was something embarrassing he had to tolerate.

Something inside my heart quietly broke.

I took a slow breath.

Then I looked straight at him.

“Let’s divorce.”

The words hung in the air between us.

Brandon blinked once.

Then he scoffed.

“Stop being ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“I should have known you’d react like this.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

But before I could check it, Brandon’s phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

The irritation on his face disappeared immediately.

“Clara.”

He answered the call at once and stepped a few feet away.

His voice softened instantly.

“Are you okay?”

I stood beside my car and watched him.

“Yes, I’m still outside,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything.”

Handle everything.

He turned slightly and glanced back at me.

“Wait here,” he said before returning to the call. “We’ll talk later.”

I didn’t respond.

Instead, I pulled out my phone.

My fingers moved quickly across the screen.

“Help me draft a divorce agreement.”

I sent the message to Knox.

My phone buzzed almost immediately.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

A few seconds passed before his reply came again.

“Okay, come to my office.”

***

When I returned home later that evening, the sun had already begun to set.

The Langford estate stood quietly under the fading golden light.

For five years, I had called this place home.

Tonight it felt strangely unfamiliar.

I carried the cardboard box inside.

The moment I stepped into the living room, I saw Bailey.

She was slouched across the cream-colored sofa, scrolling through her phone lazily.

She looked up when she heard my heels on the marble floor.

Her eyes immediately dropped to the box in my arms.

“Well,” she said with a smirk. “Look who’s back.”

I didn’t answer.

I started walking toward the stairs.

Bailey sat up immediately.

“What’s in the box?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

She laughed softly.

“Oh, I think it does.” She leaned forward slightly. “The company’s buzzing about you today. Suspended already?”

I kept walking.

Bailey stood up and followed me a few steps.

“You know,” she said casually, “I always wondered how long you’d last there.”

I stopped at the base of the stairs.

“Bailey,” I said calmly. “Leave me alone.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“I said leave me alone.”

Her expression turned mocking.

“You think you can order me around?”

I didn’t answer.

Bailey folded her arms.

“Since you’re already here,” she said lazily, “go make me something to eat.”

I remained silent.

“The lemon chicken,” she added. “The one with capers.”

Her voice turned impatient.

“And don’t forget the garlic this time.”

For five years, that had been the routine.

Bailey ordered.

I cooked.

Dinner.

Coffee.

Snacks.

Whatever she wanted.

She treated me like a maid.

And I endured it.

But today something felt different.

“No,” I said quietly.

Bailey blinked.

“What?”

“I said no.”

Her face twisted with disbelief.

“You don’t get to say no to me.”

I turned and started walking up the stairs.

Behind me her footsteps followed.

“You live here because of my brother,” she snapped. “Don’t start acting arrogant.”

I kept walking.

“This is Brandon’s house,” she continued loudly. “You’re just the placeholder wife.”

My steps didn’t slow.

“Hey!” she shouted. “I’m talking to you!”

I reached the landing.

Then she said it.

“You hear me, barren woman?”

My body froze.

The word hung in the air like poison.

Barren.

Years of doctor visits.

Blood tests.

Waiting rooms.

Bailey knew exactly what she was doing.

Slowly, I turned.

She stood at the bottom of the staircase, arms crossed, smiling like she had just delivered the perfect insult.

I walked down a few steps until we were almost eye level.

“Listen to me carefully,” I said.

My voice was calm.

Too calm.

“Don’t ever mention my ability to have children again.”

Her smile flickered.

“Or my body,” I continued.

“And definitely not my worth.”

Bailey’s expression stiffened.

“You say something like that again,” I said quietly, “and you will regret it.”

For once, Bailey Langford had no response.

She just stared at me.

I turned and walked away.

Inside the bedroom, the silence felt heavier.

I placed the box on the bed and went straight to the closet.

The walk-in closet was enormous.

Designer dresses lined the racks. Shoes arranged perfectly. Handbags displayed like museum pieces.

Most of it felt like someone else’s life.

I pulled my largest suitcase from the shelf.

Black Rimowa.

The suitcase I had bought five years ago for a honeymoon Brandon postponed until it quietly stopped being mentioned.

I placed it on the bed and unzipped it.

Clothes first.

But not everything.

Only the things that belonged to me.

Sweaters. Jeans. Comfortable clothes Brandon always said were “too casual” for a Langford wife.

Shoes.

Jewelry.

I took a few books from my bedside table, and that was when I saw an old picture of us. Brandon and I.

I took the picture when Brandon was in the hospital after he had an injury on the school track field. 

I stayed at the hospital to took care of him for weeks before he woke up.

He was never fond of taking photos. Every time I asked to take a picture with him, he would grumble that it was girly stuff, and in every single shot, he stood as far away from me as possible with a reluctant face.

That was why, when he lay in the hospital bed, I secretly snapped this photo.

Leaning close to his shoulder and closing my eyes,  just like I was lying right beside him. 

How foolish of me. I wanted to drop the picture but decided last minute to keep it.

I pulled the suitcase off the bed and rolled it toward the door.

Back downstairs Bailey was sitting on the couch again.

But when she saw the suitcase, her scrolling stopped.

I walked straight past her.

At the coffee table I set the suitcase down.

Then I reached into my purse.

The manila envelope was still there.

Inside the envelope were the divorce papers. Knox prepared them as quickly as he could.

I held it out toward Bailey.

“Give this to your brother.”

She stared at it.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

She took it slowly.

“If this is some pathetic love letter—”

“It’s not.”

I picked up my suitcase again.

The wheels rolled across the marble floor as I walked toward the front door.

Behind me Bailey stood up.

“You’re really leaving?”

I stopped with my hand on the door handle.

Then I looked back at her.

“Yes.”

For the first time in five years, the word felt real.