MR. CEO, ON YOUR KNEES

ZORA 

I paid the cab driver and hurried into the compound, rushing to prepare dinner for my husband before he's back from work. It's his birthday and also our marriage anniversary.

I had decided to cook his special meal as part of his birthday gift. I wanted to show him how much I loved him and how happy I was that he married me.

Zayn, a famous billionaire who runs the multimillion-dollar firm he inherited from his father, and I had been married for three years. We married a year after graduating from college.

Although Zayn hadn't been the best husband over the past three years, I kept hoping for his change.

The childlesness in our marriage contributed to his sudden change. We had visited many medical places, but it seemed we weren’t doing something right. However, today I felt excited because I had a special surprise: a hospital report showing I was one month pregnant!

We lived in a sophisticated villa in Southampton City, surrounded by servants and luxury. Despite that, I always preferred to cook his meals myself because I wanted to please him and see him happy.

Today, I left work early to return home for the meal.

Lost in reverie, I smiled as I imagined the happy moment when I would present him with the gifts.

I held a wrapped gift I had saved months for. “Can’t wait to see his reaction when I hand him the test result and this gift,” I muttered, a smile spreading across my lips.

To my surprise, as I entered the compound, I saw his car parked in the garage.

“Didn’t he leave for work this morning? Why is his car here?” I wondered, perplexed.

“Well, maybe it broke down and he towed it back with a van and went to work with a cab,” I concluded, shaking off the confusion.

I opened the door to the sitting room, ignoring the servants' greetings, and went straight to the kitchen to drop off the items I purchased for the meal.

As I arranged the food items, I heard the door open and quickly turned to see who it was.

“Oh, Zayn. You’re home. You freaked me out when I heard the door. I thought you left for work this morning,” I said, sighing and approaching him with a baby-like expression.

I leaned in, ready to greet him with a tender kiss, but he wasn't having it. I saw it on his face. He raised his hand and gently but firmly pushed my head away.

“Erm, Zora, we need to talk. Meet me in my study room,” he said.

“Is there a problem, darling?” Before I could finish, he had already left the kitchen.

The rejection stung like a scorpion. My eyes faltered, confusion and hurt flickering across my face.

“What happened? Did I do something wrong? Why isn’t he happy?” I wondered, confused and startled.

I gulped hard and followed him.

I asked a maid to arrange the cooking items because some were perishable and needed to be stored in the freezer, sensing this meeting might be long.

I adjusted my long, wavy blonde hair in the hallway mirror. My almond-shaped hazel eyes matched my fair skin, and the dress I wore highlighted my hourglass figure. I was moderately attractive.

I should have smiled at my reflection, but my husband's abrupt request and treatment made me visibly anxious.

He had never rejected my kiss. He would just accept it, even if his face showed disinterest.

At his study door, I took a deep breath and prayed inwardly before grabbing the doorknob and yanking the door open.

“I hope everything is alright, darling,” I said as I walked in.

He sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair, facing me. “I’ll say it’s fine because every problem has a solution, which is why I called you here. Anyway, sit down,” he said, pointing to a chair.

“Is there a problem? Is this why you came back from work? I remember you left for work this morning,” I asked as I sat down.

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, preparing to speak.

I couldn't wait any longer. “Do you want to discuss your birthday and our anniversary? Don’t worry; I’ve been preparing. There’s plenty of merriment for anyone you invited,” I said, my fists clenched and an innocent look on my face.

“This has nothing to do with my birthday. I hadn’t planned to celebrate it or invite anyone,” he replied, picking up a white envelope and handing it to me.

“Go through it, and sign where needed,” he added.

“Have we agreed to sell the house and move to a bigger city?” I asked, but he didn’t respond.

“Go through the document and find out,” he said, crossing his legs and sipping from a wine cup.

I opened the envelope, nervous about what it contained. I pulled out the small stack of papers and read:

"DIVORCE AGREEMENT BETWEEN MR. ZAYN EZRAH AND ZORA EZRAH."

I gasped in shock. “What happened? This must be the wrong document.” My voice cracked with emotional distress.

He uncrossed his legs, adjusted his posture, and gently placed the wine cup on the table. “It is what it is, Zora. I’m sorry if I disappointed you, but I have to do this. If you look through it, you’ll find a slot for your signature.”

Doubtful, I stared at the papers and saw that his signature was already on them. Mine was the only thing delaying the divorce.

“Tell me this is a prank, Zayn. Why divorce? Not now.”

“I’m serious, Zora. Sign the papers so we can end this meeting,” he insisted. It was clear he was serious.

“Why, Zayn? Why divorce? Last time we discussed our marriage, we promised to change. How did we end up here?” I was confused and angry.

“Well, you’re right. We did discuss that, but I want a divorce now.”

“But I don’t. You can’t just catch me off guard like this. Even if we’re divorcing, you should have told me beforehand, not like this.”

“Zora, just sign the damn papers and end this,” he yelled, slamming his hand on the desk.

“And what if I don’t?” I yelled back, standing and tearing the papers into pieces.

A deadpan smile crept onto his lips as he watched me. Determination was in his eyes. He stood up, went to the window, and looked out over the city, thinking about his next move.

I sighed weakly and followed him. “Zayn, if I’ve done something wrong that made you think this, please tell me. I’m ready to do better,” I pleaded, grabbing his hand and rubbing it gently.

Zayn’s expression was conflicted but soon hardened with determination. “I don’t think the fault is yours,” he said, gently withdrawing his hand.

“Then who? Or is it because of Nora, your assistant manager? I’ve heard you’ve been close with her.”

Zayn hesitated before responding, “You could say that.”

“Is there something special about her you want me to cultivate?” I asked, willing to improve and be the woman he wanted.

“Damn it, Zora. I’m tired of this marriage. Can’t you understand that? And I never said it was because of Nora,” he said, turning and brushing past me to the table.

“Whatever or whoever is causing this will never succeed,” I fumed and turned to leave.

“You think tearing up the papers will change anything? I have five to ten copies because I knew you’d do this,” he said, arranging documents into his briefcase.

“I’m leaving. Dorcas must have arranged my luggage as I instructed. You’ll need to request the divorce papers when you don’t see me for weeks, months, or even years,” he said, heading to the exit.

Halfway to the door, he stopped and turned. “Lest I forget, you can only contact me through my lawyers. I’m switching to another line,” he finalized and left the room, leaving me feeling like I’d been punched in the gut.

His words spread a stinging sensation through my chest, as if my heart were shattering. Tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to spill over as I struggled to process his words.

My breath cut and I felt like I was drowning in despair. My legs trembled, threatening to collapse beneath me.

A sob welled up inside me, but I forced it back, trying to maintain control.

Just then, my phone pinged.