002

Lavanda

I run to the car park, my tears obscuring my vision. I can barely see where I parked my car.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" the security guard asks. I snub his fake sympathy.

I clean my tears properly and walk to my car. He approaches and I roll up my window, starting the engine before I break down.

The result is an almost-bashed company gate and my salty tears.

I drive, completely unaware of where I'm headed. I don't drink or go anywhere that isn't this company.

Home is out of the question, but where would I go if not there?

My fingers clench the steering wheel. I just want to be alone and cry.

Each tear drop draws me down memory lane. Times when we were in love.

When he took me out and made sure everything was perfect.

When he cried if I didn't like what he bought.

When he was gentle with his touch.

I hit the steering wheel with my fist. That hospital. That night. Adrian.

If I hadn't lost him on the balcony while working, maybe Desmond wouldn't have left.

He didn't have to say anything. I noticed the drift and the cold nights.

I had given him his worst nightmare, and this was the result playing back to me.

Then months turned into years.

I stayed back, believing and hoping he would change, but no.

Our four-year-old marriage had hit rock bottom and I was too blind to see it.

I drive into our compound. Different shades of expensive cars fill the garage.

A massive house with enough rooms wasn't enough to keep the love burning.

The maids rush out at the sound of my car horn, all dressed in black like my heart.

Funny how the universe mocks you with colors.

I look through the car mirror, over and over again, until I'm sure it's time to step out.

I am the perfect wife and I have to look strong. That's what everyone expects.

They all rush forward.

"Get inside. I'm coming in." My voice comes out harshly.

They troop back inside on their heels in fright.

Inside my room, I collapse on the bed, not bothering to switch on the light.

The dark feels good right now because it conceals my pain.

My tears drop onto the pillow as I stare at the nightstand.

He had broken our vow and I'm tired of cleaning his mess.

This has changed everything. It revealed how trusting I could be, even with the red flags.

My hand reaches for the drawer. It's about time I used it.

This marriage was over. The illusion of him too.

I thought things could be different. Maybe they weren't meant to be.

I curl myself up, shedding more tears until I drift off.

The sound of the electric alarm wakes me. It's already 7:00am. I quickly rush out of bed and switch the light on.

I pick myself up, cursing loudly at why I slept late. I take the spare keys to the kitchen.

Then I pause at the door. I shake my head. Images float around me.

Naked bodies pressed together, loud moans, and the smell of sex in his office.

The keys slip from my hands. Desmond had cheated on me and soiled our matrimonial bed without thinking about how I felt.

The mirror above my bed shows me still in my work clothes.

My puffy eyes tell tales of emotional toil, with dark circles underneath.

He didn't check up on me last night. The bell didn't even ring once.

Our bond had died a long time ago while I was picking up the pieces.

I walk over to my drawer and pull out the divorce papers.

The documents have a little dust on them. I wipe it away with my thumb.

I open my door and head straight to the dining room where I'm sure he is.

Desmond is an early bird, always on time. A part of me wonders if he slept peacefully last night.

True to my words, he is seated in the dining room with a maid pouring him coffee and toast on a plate.

He doesn't wait for me to join him. Everything is neat and impeccable, just how he wants it.

He has a low cut recently and I wonder if it's for Cyanne.

It complements his blue eyes.

One of the things that made me fall for him.

"Good morning, ma'am," the maid bows. I wave her off.

"What will you eat?" The maids asks

"I don't need anything. You can leave."

Desmond is in his tailored suit, sipping coffee while he scans the newspaper.

I wonder if he notices my presence, or if the guilt is killing him.

"Good morning," I say calmly.

"Morning, Lavanda." He doesn't drop the newspaper or look up.

"You missed our anniversary dinner," I start a conversation.

"Work," he says coldly, dropping his card on the table. "Take whatever you want as compensation."

"I don't need your money, Desmond." My voice rises.

"I'm apologizing for not making it to the celebration." He closes the paper, sipping his coffee.

I scan his face for at least a trace of guilt, but it's hard to read with those glasses on.

"Don't expect anything from me," he tucks it back into his wallet.

After sleeping with my sister, you give your card as some gift.

"What went down at work?" I ask casually, my fingernails scraping the table nervously.

"You ask a lot of questions like we don't work together." He avoids my question, looking at his wristwatch. "I'm late."

He starts moving toward the tall, towering door.

"Wait," I call from behind him. I don't know what I'm thinking, trying to get the truth from a man incapable of loving me.

He turns, his black briefcase in his hands. "Now what?" I notice he's clearly irritated by my questions.

Fortunately for him, this will be the last time I ask about his whereabouts.

"There's something I need to tell you." I swallow hard, uncomfortable with what’s on my mind.

"I don't have time," he cuts in sharply. "Speak."

"Sit down first." I point at the dining chair.

He inhales sharply. "If it's about our anniversary, I'm sorry for not coming back early."

Because your legs were hidden beneath my sister's center.My mind screams.

I shake my head. "I've forgotten about that."

"Can't it wait?" he pressures. I can tell he's on edge.

"No." I raise the document. If he can't come to me, then I will go to him.

"You stopped me to sign a contract," he scans the document in my hands.

I don't say anything. I stand still, watching him turn the pages, pen in hand.

His eyes scan it. I'm scared that if I tell him about the divorce, he won't accept.

Before I became his wife, I was also a young, promising programmer.

Good at my skills, but overshadowed by my husband. He never wanted me to code, only paperwork.

His pen hovers above the signature section, almost about to sign me my freedom.

I pause, watching his every move with a mix of happiness and sadness. I don't want to leave, yet I can't stay.

"What sort of documents are these?" he asks, and my heart sinks as his gaze lands on top of the paper.

"Divorce Agreement." He reads the words quietly, surprise written on his face.

"What the hell is this?" The papers fall from his hands to the floor.

"I want a divorce," I say sharply, maintaining my composure under his gaze.

"Why now?" He walks over to me and grabs my hands. I keep mute, watching anger burst through his eyes.

I genuinely thought this would make him happy. At least he could cheat properly.

I lift my chin, my lips trembling. "I prepared it a long time ago."

"No.

No.

No, Lavanda, you are my wife and we aren't getting a divorce."

"I'm your wife only on paper," the words burst out. "I feel like a statue around here." I don't tell him I caught him with my sister.

"Have I not been faithful and loyal to you?" His tone is calm and hurting.

I swallow. "I don't want us anymore."

"Never. You are going to stay with me and be my wife." The old me would have jumped at this.

"It's too late." I stand firm.

"You can't divorce me." He breathes

"Why not?"

"The shares will be split," he says coldly, taking his briefcase. "I don't want that."

I no longer care for what he wants.

"Desmond." His hand holds the doorknob tightly. "If you want my stepsister, you can have her. I need my freedom."

He faces me properly for the first time today. "So you came by the office last night."

I nod. "I caught you fucking her like your life depended on it," I say with every bit of venom in my voice.

"I did it for you." He removes his glasses. "Can't you see that everything I do is for you?"

"No. You slept with her because you wanted to. Not because of me, but for yourself." I scream at his deluded sense.

"We need a child," he says sharply. "I did exactly what was needed to father one for you."

I laugh coldly, tears choking my throat. "Are you calling me barren?"

"Yes. Your womb is unable to conceive, so I did your job."

I laugh, tears stinging my eyes at the absurdity coming from my husband's lying tongue. "Out of all the girls, you chose to have a child with Cyanne?"

"Of course." He smiles. "She's your sister. The more family, the better."

Reality slaps me in the face. He is beyond redemption.

He points at my stomach. "You are barren, so I fucked her to get one for us."

The sheer arrogance drives me nuts.

There is no flicker of guilt in his eyes or remorse. I think hard about why I stayed with an unrepentant cheat for so long.

This isn't the man I fell in love with. He lacks something.

"I'm barren," I pause, the weight of the word hitting me until I find my voice.

"If you don't sign the divorce papers, I will make sure the whole city knows about your sex escapade and the company's stock will fall."

"Stupid woman, don't you dare do anything foolish." He wags his finger and slams the door in my face.

I sink back into the chair. I think of how much love I gave him.

I watched him take unnecessary travel trips. Because I thought maybe the loss of our baby hit hard and this was how he was recovering. But now... now I see what I meant to him.