Chapter 3

Travis Luther’s expression turned colder.

“Do you really have to be this unreasonable? I already explained everything—what more do you want?”

Nora was losing patience. “Just read the divorce agreement and sign it as soon as possible. Otherwise, we’ll settle it through the court.”

With that, she turned and headed upstairs.

Travis watched her walk away, an unshakable frustration churning in his chest.

In his mind, he had already compromised enough. Over the years, he’d never shortchanged Nora—she’d always had the lifestyle, the title, the comfort.

And now, over something so trivial, she wanted to blow up the whole marriage? It was ridiculous.

Still, Nora had been acting strangely these past few days—saying things she never would have dared say before. She was sharper, colder. Different.

Travis took a sip of tea, forcing himself to stay calm. He finally went upstairs to talk it out—only to freeze the moment he stepped into the bedroom.

The bed was perfectly made.

The closet door was open.

All of Nora’s clothes were gone.

She’d moved out of their room?

His temper flared instantly. Without a word, he spun around and stormed off.

Down the hall, Nora heard the door slam. She didn’t flinch. She was busy setting up the guest bed, folding sheets with quiet precision.

Later that night, a knock at the door woke her.

She opened it to find Quinton curled up on the floor, pale-faced and drenched in cold sweat.

“Mommy… my stomach really hurts. I’ve been having diarrhea… it won’t stop…”

Quinton had always had a sensitive stomach. He couldn’t eat greasy, salty, spicy, or cold foods—just a little out of balance, and his body would react.

Nora had always been the one to manage his diet. She’d pored over recipes, researched food therapy, adjusted dishes to help his digestion.

And when he hated the bland taste? She’d try new ways to coax him into eating more.

But yesterday, Lily had taken him to the amusement park and let him eat fried chicken, burgers, fries, and ice cream. Classic kid junk food.

She even posted photos—Quinton had looked thrilled.

Travis had been there too, and of course, he hadn’t stopped any of it.

“Mommy…”

Quinton’s voice weakened. He reached out for her, grabbing at the hem of her shirt.

Nora quietly stepped aside.

His hand hung in the air, frozen. He stared at her, stunned.

Without a word, she picked up her phone and called for an ambulance.

When it arrived, she helped Quinton onto the stretcher.

He clung tightly to her shirt, tears welling up.

“Mommy… aren’t you coming with me?”

Nora gently pried his fingers loose. Her voice was calm.

“I already called Lily. She’ll be there soon. Didn’t you say you wanted her to be your mom?”

Quinton looked at her, lost. He tried to respond, but another wave of pain overtook him before he could speak.

The sirens faded as the ambulance drove away.

Nora shut the door and went back to bed.

She had already arranged for the movers to come at ten in the morning.

Whether Travis signed the papers or not, she was leaving this house.

The sooner, the better.

The exchange program in the UK was only two months away.

She’d never been expected to work—Travis had made that clear.

“You don’t need a job,” he’d once said. “Just focus on raising our son.”

But once Quinton started preschool, Nora had time. She’d studied design in college and had been freelancing online for two years, gradually building experience.

The UK opportunity?

She’d won it in a design competition.

It was her prize.

Last time, thanks to Lily, she never got to go.

But this time, she would.

She was done relying on anyone else. The only way forward was to grow stronger on her own.

At seven sharp, Nora got up and headed to the kitchen.

She stirred a small pot of plain oatmeal, adding a bit of honey to soften the taste.

Before it finished cooking, footsteps thundered in from the living room.

Travis stormed in, radiating anger.

“Quinton had acute gastroenteritis last night—and you just left him alone at the hospital?!”

Nora lifted the lid of the pot and stirred.

“I called Lily,” she said calmly, turning to look at him.

“But Quinton wanted you,” Travis snapped. “He kept crying for his mom! He was in so much pain! Even if you’re jealous, you don’t take it out on a child. Nora, are you even a mother anymore?”

Nora exhaled slowly, her gaze steady and flat.

“If I’m not a mother, then are you a father?

“You don’t even remember that he has dietary restrictions. You didn’t stop him from eating junk that could make him sick. What right do you have to lecture me?”

Her voice wasn’t loud. It was calm and matter-of-fact, with no trace of accusation—

But it hit like a slap.

Travis stood there, momentarily speechless, as if someone had squeezed the air out of his lungs.

After a long pause, he muttered,

“I didn’t know… You should’ve told me.”

Nora cut him off, her tone bone-chilling.

“You think I didn’t? I told you—so many times. Too bad you never listened.”