DIVORCE

Lena's Pov.

I stood at the edge of our bedroom, my arms crossed tightly over my chest as I watched him. My heart was pounding, but not the way it used to when I looked at him. Not with love or warmth or hope. This pounding felt heavy. Cold. Like every beat was trying to push the pain out of me.

Harrison Worthington. The man I once thought was my forever. The same man who was now zipping up his suitcase like he couldn’t wait to leave.

My husband.

My soon-to-be ex-husband.

I didn’t even feel like I was standing in my own body. I was watching this scene unfold like it was a movie, like someone else’s life was falling apart. But the ache in my chest reminded me this was mine. Every second of it.

He didn’t say a word as he folded his clothes neatly into the suitcase, each motion calm and calculated. There wasn’t a single sign of regret or hesitation. Just cold, sharp silence.

The air between us felt suffocating.

"I loved you with everything I had," I said, my voice thick and bitter. It shook with the effort it took to keep myself together. I barely recognized the sound. It was cracked, broken. Tired. "But you betrayed me. You cheated on me—with her? With Nora?"

I didn’t mean to say her name with so much disgust, but I couldn’t help it. My stepsister. The woman who had once shared birthday cakes and Christmas dinners with me. The one who stood beside me at my wedding and toasted to our love.

Now she was the reason my marriage was ending.

He still didn’t look at me. His hands moved like machines, folding one shirt after another, placing them inside the suitcase with perfect precision. As if my entire world wasn’t falling apart just two feet away from him.

"You should sign the papers, Lena," he said finally. His voice was cold. Lifeless. "I left them on the bed."

I turned my eyes to the manila envelope resting on the perfectly made bed. I hadn't even noticed it there before. The words DIVORCE AGREEMENT were stamped on it like a death sentence.

"I’ve made my decision," he added, adjusting the collar of a shirt before tucking it in. "Nora is the one I want. She makes me feel alive again."

His words hit harder than I expected. Like someone yanked the ground from beneath me. My knees wobbled, and I grabbed the edge of the dresser to keep from collapsing.

He chose her. Not me. Not the woman he vowed to love and protect.

My throat tightened, my vision blurred, but I refused to cry in front of him. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

"You’re in love with my stepsister?" I whispered. The words tasted like ash.

That’s when he finally looked at me.

And what I saw in his eyes chilled me to the bone.

Nothing.

No sadness. No guilt. Not even anger. Just emptiness.

"Yes," he said, blinking slowly. "I love her."

I couldn’t breathe. My chest was caving in, my lungs refusing to work properly. But I stood my ground.

"You disgust me," I said through clenched teeth. "I gave you my heart. My body. My future. And this is how you thank me?"

He didn’t flinch. "You stopped being a wife a long time ago, Lena."

That was it. The moment everything broke.

"You’re unbelievable," I whispered. "You think I stopped being a wife because I couldn't give you a child?"

He tilted his head slightly, like my words didn’t mean anything to him. Like I was making a scene for no reason.

"You’re barren, Lena," he said bluntly. His voice didn’t even have an edge. Just a flat, cruel truth. "We’ve tried for three years. Nothing. Nora gives me hope. She wants a family. She can give me one."

Barren.

That word echoed in my ears like a scream.

I felt like throwing something. Smashing every picture frame, every memory we ever built. But I stood frozen, held together by the last bit of pride I had left.

"You think I chose this?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think I wanted to be poked and prodded, to take hormone shots, to sit in cold hospital rooms while they told me I was the problem?"

Still, nothing. No remorse. No kindness.

"You don’t need to explain," he said flatly. "This is done. I’ve moved on."

I took a shaky step back, as if putting distance between us would dull the pain.

"I hope she ruins you," I said, my voice trembling but full of truth. "I hope she tears you apart the way you tore me."

His jaw clenched for a brief second. It was the only sign of emotion I got out of him.

"You cheated with the one person you knew would hurt me the most," I said. "You didn’t just end our marriage—you crushed it. You spit on it."

"You destroyed yourself when you stopped trying," he snapped. "I needed someone. Nora was there. She listens. She cares. She doesn’t make me feel like I’m drowning every day."

That’s when my hand flew.

The slap was loud, echoing in the quiet room. My palm stung from the impact, but I didn’t care. He deserved it. Every inch of it.

He didn’t hit back. He didn’t even move. Just stared at me with those lifeless eyes.

"Get out," I choked. "Now."

"Gladly." He zipped the suitcase in one swift motion and lifted it off the bed. "Send the signed papers to my lawyer."

And just like that, he left.

No final words. No last look. The door closed behind him, and the silence that followed felt like death.

I collapsed onto the floor, the weight of everything crushing me. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces together, but it was useless. I was shattered.

The bedroom smelled like him—his cologne, his aftershave. The scent of betrayal.

I sat there for hours, unable to move. My eyes were dry, but my heart cried louder than any sob could. I stared into space, my mind replaying every good moment we ever had. All of them now tainted.

Eventually, my eyes found the wedding photo on the nightstand.

I reached for it with trembling hands. We looked so happy. So in love. His smile was wide, his eyes full of warmth. I remember thinking he looked at me like I was his entire world.

Now I knew it was all a lie.

I stared at that picture until it blurred.

Then, without thinking, I threw it across the room.