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(Demi’s POV)
The divorce papers were glaring back at me from the mahogany table like some sort of a nasty reminder of my shortcomings as housewife. My trembling fingers brushed over the ink where my husband, Jeff Ortega’s, signature glared at me, bold and resolute.
His decision was final, and it was unyielding just as the man himself.
However, Jeff was standing in front of the window even as I turn and witnessed how the soft afternoon light shining on his erect figure. His eyes were as cold and far away as before, and his sharp facial features were etched with resolve. The distance between us was heightened by his coldness, even with his back facing my direction.
“I’ve already signed the papers. You should hurry and sign them too,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “I want everything finalized before Stella returns.”
Stella. The name cut through me like a blade. My throat tightened as I fought back tears.
Jeff didn’t even glance in my direction. “We’ve agreed on the partition of assets before marriage, so there shouldn’t be any disputes. But I’ll compensate you with fifty million dollars and a house near the border. My father…” He hesitated for a moment, then continued, “He would expect me to offer you something substantial.”
“Does… does your dad know you’re divorcing me?” My voice cracked as I finally forced the words out.
Jeff’s laugh was humorless. “Does it matter? Do you think if he knew it would change anything?”
The weight of his words pressed down on my chest. My grip on the table tightened as I tried to steady myself. “Jeff,” I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “Can we not get a divorce?”
At that, he spun around, his eyes blazing with frustration. “I’ve had enough, Demi! Every second of this marriage has been torture. A loveless, miserable relationship—that’s all you’ve given me.”
His words tore through the weak hope I had held onto for so long like a mallet. Even though tears were streaming down my cheeks, I resisted showing him how helpless I was.
“It was a mistake from the start,” he continued. “You knew I loved someone else, yet you agreed to this charade. Now that the five-year agreement is over and Stella is returning, it’s time for you to step aside give her the position of being my wife where it truly belongs.”
Step aside. He was quick to address me that way as though my feelings, sacrifices, and my existence were nothing to him at all. At this point, all that I wanted was to cry out loud, to demand that he acknowledge everything I’d endured for years. But Instead, I could only afford to lower my head as my tears continued to soak the divorce papers lying beneath me.
And then, Jeff’s phone buzzed, cutting through the suffocating silence between us. His behavior quickly changed and it shifted immediately into someone completely different as he answered the call.
“Hello, Stella,” he said softly, his voice dripping with warmth that I had never heard directed at me. “What?! You’re already at the airport? I thought your flight is scheduled tomorrow evening? Alright. I’ll pick you up right now then. Wait for me.”
Without another glance in my direction, he strode out of the room, leaving me with the papers and the shards of my broken heart.
***
I watched that evening from the sideline while everyone seemed too busy especially as Jeff entered the manor cuddling Stella in his arms. The joy of the workers filled the house, and I couldn't help but feel out of place in my own house.
My heart ached at the sound of Stella's laughter that filled the corridors of the manor. "Jeff, do you think all of this seems off? I mean, Demi might hate me for this.”
With a disdainful tone, he reassured her, "Oh, no worries. She won't. This marriage was never real to begin with. She knows her place.”
The words made my chest hurt even more. Even though I had given him everything, he still only saw me as a duty he must fulfill as part of the marriage arrangement.
And for that reason, I made up my mind later that night. I packed a little suitcase and sneaked out of the house without a word. Without looking back, I quickly hopped into the black Porsche waiting outside the gates. As I got inside, I instantly felt my heart tensed.
There, I was met with a worried smile by my childhood friend, Brent, who was handling the wheels.
"Hey Demi, are you certain about this? There’s no turning back once I move the car.” He inquired quietly.
Even though my hands were shaking, I nodded and spoke firmly. “Yes. Just go. I can’t stay in this place for another moment longer.”
***
The sound of the engine had drowned out my racing thoughts especially as Brent's car sped through the streets. In spite of the excruciating pain I was feeling deep within my chest, It would seem like I felt free for the first time in so many years.
“Where to?” Brent asked gently, his eyes flicking to me in the rearview mirror.
I hesitated. “Anywhere but here.”
He understood and nodded. I had known Brent in the past, and he had always had faith in me. He hadn't thought twice about helping me when I had called him earlier, feeling hopeless and broken.
"You know that you deserve more than this." He whispered beside me.
Although I wasn't entirely sure I believed what he was meant with those words, I simply let it sink in. After everything, my heart still ached for Jeff. but despite this, I simply just couldn't get risk pushing myself to be with someone who only saw me as a hindrance to his happiness.
Brent dropped me off at the Imperial Hotel, far from the prying eyes of the Ortega family. Compared to the stuffy atmosphere of the Blue Manor, the air was clear and fresh.
"Just feel free to stay as long as you want to," Brent said, maintaining a steady gaze at my face that it makes me awkward for some reason. “Demi, you always underestimate how strong you are. Also, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me. I silently promised myself something as soon as I entered the villa. Without Jeff Ortega, my life would be rebuilt piece by piece. A ray of hope appeared in my life for the first time in years.
The hotel turned into a haven for me, a healing space. Brent came back after parking his car, his presence a comforting reminder that not everyone in my life had abandoned me.
"You're doing better than I anticipated," he said in a playful tone.
With a tiny smile tugging at my lips, I answered, "I have to. For myself."
However, a part of me continued to yearn for the man who had broken my heart even as I moved on. Jeff Ortega might have discarded me, but he would never truly be gone from my thoughts.
The crisp night air brushed against my skin as Brent guided me onto the elevator. He had demanded this surprise in the hopes that it would cheer me up. The building was surrounded by glistening city lights.
I questioned in frustration, "Brent, what are you trying to show?"
He leaned against the railing and grinned. He looked at his watch and said, "My secretary planned this. Fireworks start in...three, two, one."
The night sky was painted with purple fireworks as a loud boom filled the air. Below us, couples gathered on the balcony, their faces beaming with joy. I grinned in spite of myself.
"Your secretary has terrible taste," I shook my head.
Brent chuckled. "Better than his past attempts. And there’s more. Gifts from everyone are waiting in your room. You’re loved, Demi. It’s time to focus on the people who truly deserve your love."
His words brought a lump to my throat. I turned away, blinking back tears.
The jump was different this time. It wasn't the violent, reality-wrenching tear of the Ouroboros. It was a glide, a descent into a warm, dark river. The bronze ship around us hummed a low, soothing frequency, a lullaby after the Archive's sterile scream. There was no bone-deep terror, only a profound, weary disorientation.The light outside the viewport resolved from streaks into a soft, predawn grey. We were descending through a calm, misty sky towards a landscape of rolling, forested hills. It was Earth. It felt like Earth. The scent of pine and damp earth filtered through the ship's ancient environmental systems, a familiar perfume after the alien loam of the Archive's exhibit.Jeff’s hands were white-knuckled on the controls, his face slack with exhaustion and disbelief. "We're… down. We're stable." He looked at the readouts, his brow furrowed. "The power core is almost depleted. That one jump… it took everything."It didn't matter. We were down. We were alive.The hatch hissed op
The silence in the corridor was absolute, broken only by the faint, sinister hum of the Archivists' charged weapons. The purple light painted their featureless helmets in shifting, malevolent shades. There was no cover, no side passages, no hope of outrunning whatever energy bolt was about to vaporize us. We were a bug on a slide, pinned and ready for dissection.Jeff pushed Lina and me behind him, his body a final, futile shield. My mind screamed, scrambling for a solution that didn't exist. Lina’s trick with the wall had been a masterpiece of desperate improvisation, but it had also led us into a dead end. We were trapped in the belly of the beast.The lead Archivist took a step forward, its weapon unwavering. There was no synthesized voice this time, no declaration of quarantine. This was an execution.And then Lina spoke, her voice a small, clear chime in the tense silence. But the words were not her own. They were a stream of guttural, clicking phonemes, layered with a harmonic r
The world narrowed to the fracture in the wall and the descending teardrop ship. The deep purple glow at its base intensified, humming with a power that made the fillings in my teeth ache. It was a sound of absolute finality. We were seconds from being expunged, our messy, biological story neatly deleted from the Archive's pristine records.But Lina's eyes were fixed on the crack, wide not with fear, but with a terrifying, dawning recognition."It's the same," she whispered, her voice almost lost in the building whine of the ship's weapon. "The song behind the wall… it's the same as the hungry nothing."My blood ran cold. The eraser. The void that consumed reality. It wasn't just a weapon of the Curators. It was a force the Archive was built to contain. And we had cracked the containment field.The teardrop ship hesitated. Its smooth, menacing descent faltered as its sensors undoubtedly registered the breach. The purple glow at its base flickered, its purpose shifting from exterminati
My body moved before my mind could process the horror. I threw myself in front of Lina, a primal shield against the cold, logical violence of the Archivist. The beam of white light from its stylus didn't strike her. It hit me.Agony. Not a physical burning, but a deeper, more fundamental violation. It felt like every memory, every thought, every defining moment of my life was being flash-frozen and held up for inspection. I saw my childhood home, Jeff's face the first time he kissed me, Lina's birth, the screaming void of the eraser—all of it laid bare and labeled for deletion. A scream was torn from my throat, soundless in the mental onslaught.CONTAMINATION CONFIRMED. SECONDARY ANOMALY. QUARANTINE PROTOCOL EXPANDING.The Archivist adjusted its aim, the stylus now encompassing both of us. Jeff roared, a raw, desperate sound. He didn't have a weapon, nothing but his own two hands. He launched himself at the figure, not to attack, but to disrupt, to be a variable its cold programming c
The hope was a fragile, precious thing, warming us more effectively than the weak sun that filtered through our crude shelter the next morning. For three days, we built our new life. Our lean-to became a sturdier hut, its walls woven tight, its roof thick with leaves that shed the nightly rain. Jeff, with a patience I'd only ever seen him use on engine components, taught Lina how to knap a piece of flint into a sharp edge. I learned which mushrooms were safe, which tubers could be dug up and roasted in our small, carefully-tended fire.Lina was our guide. She didn't just hear the water sing; she listened to the forest's whispers. She led us to a thicket of berry bushes we never would have found, and when a sleek, cat-like predator with too many eyes stalked the edge of our camp, she simply stood and stared at it. The creature had frozen, cocked its head, and then melted back into the shadows without a sound."It was just curious," she'd said, turning back to me with a shrug. "It's not
The cool, damp earth seeped through the fabric of my pants, a grounding, primal sensation after the sterile cold of the Ouroboros and the screaming void of the eraser. I breathed in, deep and shuddering, filling my lungs with air that tasted of decay and life, of wet stone and photosynthesis. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced.Jeff groaned, pushing himself onto his elbows. His eyes, when they met mine, were wide with a disorientation I felt deep in my own soul. We had become unmoored from everything—time, space, the very narrative that had defined and hunted us.“Where… when… are we?” he whispered, the words swallowed by the immense, quiet grandeur of the forest.“I don’t know,” I said, my voice hoarse. My gaze was locked on Lina. She was still curled between us, a small, peaceful comma in the story of our chaos. I crawled to her, my movements clumsy, my heart a frantic bird against my ribs. The fear was a reflex now, a ghost-limb of terror. I reached for her ankl







