New boss?

THEA

They always say the hardest part of divorce is the heartbreak.

They are wrong.

The hardest part is watching your son look at you like you are the villain.

The hardest part is realizing you were the only one holding on.

“Mommy, why's Aunty Claire crying? Did you hit her?” He'd asked me when I went to see him in school to say goodbye.

I just didn't know how to let go or do I?

“This will be the last time I'll come to see you honey.” I'd said, acting like I didn't hear him.

“What happened? Are you not coming home again?” He'd asked.

I nodded and he giggled.

“Daddy said you'll come back.” He'd said.

Daddy said you'll come back.

I'd sent out the divorce papers with my signature already on it. And it didn't take up to four hours before it was sent back to me with his signature on it.

I stare at the white paper which looks as white as my knuckles. 

No hesitation. No second thoughts. No sign that this decision carried any weight for him at all.

He didn’t need time. Didn’t need to think it over. He just… signed. 

A bitter laugh tears through my throat, but it sounds more like a sob.

Four hours.

It took him less than four hours to sign away our life together.

The same man who used to kiss my forehead in his sleep. Who traced lazy circles on my back when he thought I wasn’t awake. The man I built a life with, a family with—he let it all go like it meant nothing.

I press my lips together, tilting my head back as my vision blurs. The first tear drops onto the paper. Then another. And another. Until the ink begins to bleed, smudging the clean, sharp edges of his name.

I should have expected this. I should have known.

Hadn’t he already replaced me? Hadn’t he already built a home that no longer had space for me?

"Daddy said you'll come back."

Finn’s words echo in my head, twisting the knife deeper. Sebastian must have smiled when he said that, must have reassured our son in that smug voice of his.

Of course, she’ll come back. Where else would she go?

Except I did leave. And he let me.

A part of me had still hoped—God, how pathetic is that?—that he’d hesitate. That he’d stop and think, What if? Maybe he’d read over the papers and remember the life we had before it all fell apart.

But he didn’t.

He just signed.

And that is what breaks me the most.

Will Finn hate me when he realises I'm not coming back? Have I just given Sebastian what he wanted? 

My hands shake, the papers shaking with it as I force myself to breathe. I shut my eyes, the tears slipping down my face as I place the paper on the bed side table of the hotel room and move deeper into the bed. I place my head on the pillow and close my eyes. 

I just didn't think it'd end this way. I tried.

I didn't want this for Finn.

Growing up, I had two of everything—two houses, two rooms, two couches where I sat, thanksgiving at my mother’s, Christmas at my father’s. Two different versions of home that never really felt like home at all.

There was no single frame that held all of us together. Just scattered memories, blurred lines, and a childhood spent packing a suitcase every other weekend.

I told myself I’d never do that to my child.

So I fought. God, I fought so hard. I swallowed my pride, bit my tongue, tried to be enough for a man who had already given up on me. I let love turn into sacrifice, let my vows weigh me down like chains.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Because in the end, I still failed.

Finn won’t even have two homes—he’ll have one. One house where I don’t belong. One life where I am a guest, not a parent.

Because I gave him up.

I gave up custody.

I need an escape. I'm tired. I need to sleep.

Maybe I'll wake up and I'll find out everything was just a dream. Maybe I'll wake up and the ache will no longer be there.

Maybe I'll wake up and everything will be good as new, including my heart. 

Just… maybe. 

Then, I force the darkness to swallow me.

.

I didn't wake up slowly.

There was no gentle drift back to consciousness, no peaceful moment between dreams and reality. It was like being thrust back into my body, everything rushing in at once—the weight in my chest, the dull ache behind my eyes, the suffocating emptiness.

I take a breath, willing it away.

But it’s still there.

I turn my head into the pillow, inhaling deeply. It smells like my shampoo. Not Sebastian’s cologne. Not Finn’s cocoa butter cream. Just… me. Alone.

The bed is too big, too cold, too unfamiliar.

I bite down against the ache in my throat as my fingers fumble over the sheets, searching for my phone. When I find it, I squint against the brightness of the screen.

6:53 a.m.

My stomach drops.

Oh my God.

Finn’s birthday had been my day off. I didn’t go to work the following day, either. And I hadn’t even sent a notice.

Not today again.

The panic shoves aside the grief, adrenaline kicking in as I throw off the covers. There’s no time to feel. No time to dwell on the fact that I fell asleep crying, or that I woke up alone.

I force myself into the bathroom, taking the fastest shower of my life. The hot water does nothing to soothe the stiffness in my shoulders, the dull ache in my back from barely sleeping.

Minutes later, I’m dressed—something sleek, professional, put-together, even though I feel anything but.

I stand in front of the mirror, assessing the damage.

Dark circles. Red-rimmed eyes. A face that doesn’t even look like mine anymore.

I grab my concealer, applying it.

Cover the evidence.

Hide the exhaustion.

Hide the heartbreak.

By the time I step out of the hotel and into my car, my heart feels numb.

I tell myself it’s better this way. I'm married to my job now. I force on a breath and start the engine before revving out of the parking lot and towards Harrington & Vale.

The towering glass building of Harrington & Vale looms ahead as I pull up into the parking lot.

Me? The managing director? It still feels like a dream. 

I bite down the excitement and the dull ache in my chest as I straighten my shoulder and step out. 

Inside, the familiar hum of the office surrounds me as I walk towards the elevator and step in. My new office will be on the executive floor now. 

I want to punch in the floor number as the door slowly slides closed when two women follow right after me, barely acknowledging my presence as they continue whispering to each other.