CHAPTER 4 - Letting Go

Clara's Pov

The party ended and we drove back home together in silence, the car suffocated me. I glanced back as we rolled away from my home, it didn't feel like home lately, I had no one I could confide in or talk to there.

When we arrived, Adrian simply walked away to his room without sparing me a glance. I walked to mine but instead of sleeping after running a bath, I pulled out my suitcase and tossed everything I owned in it.

Every dress I folded had memories, the red dress he bought for me for our engagement party, the yellow sun dress I used for our first cover story as the youngest Mrs Hollingsworth.

My body was quaking as I packed it all up in boxes. I put on my JBL speaker and played a slow song to calm my nerves.

My phone beeped, it was Catherine, my best friend.

"Hi Kate." I managed to say.

"No, don't cry." That was all I needed to break down completely, hugging my pillow with no real comfort from anyone close.

When morning came quick, the sun peaked through my blinds reminding me of how busy a day I had ahead.

I went downstairs to the kitchen, but my heart didn't stop when I saw that he was there, sitting in his grey suit eating my chicken casserole. It had always been his favorite of all my dishes and he never skipped a day before leaving for work.

‘Breathe Clara, you got this.’ I whispered silently under my breath as I took my bowl of oat and joined him at the table, all of it was going to be water under bridge soon.

He frowned slightly when I barely acknowledged him and walked straight to my seat to eat.

The clink of cutlery against porcelain was the only sound between us. I poured myself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, watching him from the corner of my eye. His tie was perfectly knotted, hair styled neatly too.

I took a slow sip of water, my throat tight but my face calm. Two years ago, this charade would have shattered me. Today, it only confirmed what I already knew.

“Clara.”

I stopped.

“Yes?”

“Don’t wait for me tonight. I'll be working a bit late.”

I nodded once. “I won’t.”

And I meant it in ways he couldn’t possibly imagine.

The lawyer’s office smelled like coffee and paper—clean, neutral, detached. Exactly how I needed it to be.

Mrs. Harding looked at me over her glasses. “Mrs. Hollingsworth, you don’t look unsure.”

“I’m not,” I said immediately.

She paused, studying my face. “This isn’t something you decide lightly.”

“I decided it over two years,” I replied. “Last night was just the moment I stopped lying to myself.”

She nodded slowly. “Once we file, it won’t be easy. Your husband is… powerful.”

“I know,” I said. “But I’m done being afraid of that.”

She leaned back. “Then we proceed.”

“Yes.” My voice didn’t shake. “I’ve made up my mind.”

I stopped at a grocery store on my way home, more out of routine than needed. I parked across the road, the afternoon sun warm against my skin as I stepped out with a small bag in hand.

I was halfway across when I heard it.

The screech of tires.

I froze.

A car swerved, stopping inches from me. The impact didn’t come—but the pain did. I fell forward, my knee hitting the asphalt hard.

“God! Oh my God!” A woman’s voice shrieked as a door flew open.

My left knee throbbed instantly. I pressed my palm against it, breathing sharply.

“I—I didn’t see you,” she said frantically, heels clicking as she rushed toward me. “Are you okay? I—I’ll call my boyfriend right now.”

She pulled out her phone with trembling fingers.

I sat there, stunned, my heart racing louder than the traffic.

I reached for my own phone instinctively.

Adrian.

I wasn’t allowed to call him at work. He’d made that rule very clear.

The call connected on her end almost immediately.

“Addy,” she cried. “Please come, I almost hit someone. I’m so scared.”

My chest tightened.

A few minutes later, a familiar black car pulled up.

I looked up—and everything inside me broke quietly.

Adrian stepped out.

He scanned the scene, eyes sharp with concern—then they landed on her.

“Elena,” he said, rushing forward.

She ran straight into his arms, sobbing. “I was so scared.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, holding her. “I’m here.”

I pushed myself up slowly, my knee screaming in protest.

For a second—just one—his eyes flicked to me.

He hesitated.

I thought… for a foolish second, I thought he might come to me.

But Elena clutched his suit jacket tighter, crying harder.

He turned back to her.

“You’re shaking,” he said softly. “Did you get hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” she whispered. “But she—she fell.”

He finally looked at me fully then, his face unreadable. I saw something flash in his eyes when our eyes met, like an impulse to move towards me.

“It was an accident, she didn't look before crossing. Please don't let her press charges against me.” Elena clung to his arm and pouted, he hesitated for a bit then he cradled her.

“Are you hurt?” He walked towards me and asked.

“My knee,” I replied. “It hurts.”

“It was an accident, don't make a big deal out of this, Elena is really shaken by this already.”

Was he kidding me? I was hit and he was defending her? He cared more about me pressing charges against his mistress than my wellbeing. Must be nice.

I looked him in the eye, my expression unreadable. There was no warmth in his eyes, just a cold aloofness.

He nodded once and turned to his aide. “Take her to the hospital. Make sure she’s well taken care of.”

That was it.

The tears blurred my vision and pricked my eyes, I was his wife, I was Mrs Hollingsworth but it was only on paper, his heart and attention only belonged to one person—Elena.

Just an instruction—like I was a task to be handled.

“I don’t need it,” I said, forcing myself to stand properly. I winced but didn’t cry. “I’ll be fine.”

“Clara, don't be stubborn.” he said, frowning.

“I said I’m fine.”

I limped toward my car. He clenched his fist tight and I didn't regret my visit to the lawyer's office. It was for the best of both of us.

Behind me, I heard him say gently, “Let’s go, Elena.”

I didn’t look back.

When I got home, the house felt emptier than ever, it's the usual but it's never this empty.

I went straight to my room.

My passport sat neatly on the dresser. Beside it—my boxed belongings. My flight ticket. I drove down to my best friend's house and dropped them in batches, she stood at the doorway receiving each set.

“You're doing the right thing,” Kate squeezed me in a hug.

I picked up my travel box with steady hands and took one more look at the place I called home for 2 years.

I didn't leave any note or ceremonial goodbye. I couldn't bring myself to do it, I didn't want to spend another second.

I walked out of the house without looking back, the door closing softly behind me—I was finally letting go.