Chapter 5 The Longest Wait

Aviah's POV

I hummed in acknowledgment.

The line filled with rustling sounds, and I realized the phone had likely been passed to August.

His cool, detached voice soon reached my ears. "It's me."

Hearing him speak, I paused. Our last contact had been six months ago, when his final words to me were. "Aviah, if you still refuse to divorce me, I'll have your father's grave destroyed."

Despite his threat, I felt oddly satisfied, knowing he had reached his breaking point.

I hadn't bothered to respond, nor did I fear he would follow through. My father's grave had been relocated long ago—something they knew nothing about.

Now, I was simply tired of the games. The children were older, and I finally had time to put my own affairs in order.

"Are you certain you agree to divorce me?" he asked.

I couldn't understand his confusion. Wasn't divorce what he had desperately wanted all along?

But I wasn't interested in dwelling on this. "Yes, I agree. Let's meet in the next day or two to sign the divorce papers."

After I spoke, silence fell on the other end.

I suppose it made sense. From our first contact after everything happened, I had used the most venomous words to curse him. Later, I had also begged him with the most pitiful voice, because back then, I still foolishly imagined he was the August I had loved.

Each time, he would impatiently hang up, showing no mercy.

No matter how many calls or messages I sent afterward, he ignored them all.

Perhaps it was my stubbornness, my vulnerability, my desperate hope that August was still the boy who had once looked at me with adoration.

Back then, although I had discovered my pregnancy, it wasn't too far along—termination was still an option.

I gave him chance after chance, hoping he would come back to me.

Meanwhile, I used the children growing inside me to remind myself that I couldn't go back.

I drifted through those days, trapped in a relationship that only brought me pain.

It wasn't until the children were born that I finally cut off any possibility of return. In that moment, I knew August and I were truly over.

Hanging up, I watched that video again. The loving gazes they exchanged no longer stung as they once had.

Those hateful comments that once triggered my emotions now seemed trivial.

Something inside me had been extracted, dissolving like smoke.

I realized I felt nothing for August anymore.

Completely nothing. After six years of obsession, I was finally free.

The August who existed in my memory was now buried.

August texted me to come to his office tomorrow. He would have the divorce agreement prepared by his lawyers, and if everything looked acceptable, we could finalize the divorce.

I sighed lightly, feeling an immense burden lifting from my shoulders.

As the children called for me, I knew it was time to leave this small town where we'd lived for the past six years.

A three-hour drive brought us to Lakeview. I rented a 600-square-foot apartment, paying six months' rent in advance.

The next day, I arrived at August's company as agreed. The receptionist escorted me toward his office, explaining that his secretary would meet me.

The secretary informed me that August was in a meeting and asked me to wait in the reception room.

I looked at her, not recognizing her face. After six years, there were many new faces in the company I didn't know.

Eight years ago, before we married, August was already managing this company, helping his father Ralph with the workload.

Back then, at eighteen, whenever I visited, I would go straight to his office and sit in his chair.

He knew how much I hated waiting, and his meetings typically lasted at least an hour. His office was filled with books and DVDs specifically for me. There were even stuffed animals on the couch, so if I got tired of reading, I could lie down and rest.

His private restroom had a blanket and a rocking bed prepared just for me. I loved sleeping in that rocking bed, enjoying the gentle swaying sensation.

He would always look at me with such tender amusement. Though we were the same age, he always seemed much more mature and nurturing.

I didn't know why these memories surfaced now. I tried to push them away.

But I couldn't help wondering if his office had been redecorated to Scarlett's taste by now.

Had all my things been thrown away?

That office where I once had free rein, and that private room I could enter without hesitation—they now belonged to someone else.

Now, to see him, I was relegated to this ordinary reception room.

All I wanted was to sign the divorce papers and leave as quickly as possible.

But to my surprise, I waited for three and a half hours without any sign of August.

My patience exhausted, I found the secretary to ask why August hadn't appeared yet.

The secretary was evasive, explaining that August was still in his meeting and asking me to wait patiently.

I frowned, about to say something, when I heard a familiar voice.

"What would you like for lunch? There's a new restaurant that's supposed to be excellent—let's try it today."

Looking up, I saw through the reception room's glass wall that Scarlett was walking closely beside August, the two of them looking utterly content.

Scarlett whispered something in August's ear, and his smile deepened, his expression brightening.

When the secretary spotted August, she hurried over and said, "Mr. Westerfield."

But I watched as August walked right past her as if he hadn't heard, still whispering to Scarlett.

Seeing this, I couldn't contain my anger any longer and shouted, "August!"