The End Of Us

Regina's heart pounded against her ribs.

Robin stood near the bedroom window, one hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored trousers. His face was calm—too calm for someone about to change another person's life.

The silence between them stretched until Regina could no longer bear it.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

Robin turned to face her.

"There isn't an easy way to say this."

A tiny spark of hope flickered inside her.

Perhaps he wanted to apologize.

Perhaps he had realized how much he had hurt her.

Perhaps today marked a new beginning.

Instead, he reached into his leather briefcase and placed a thick envelope on the bed between them.

Regina frowned.

"What is this?"

"Read it."

With trembling fingers, she picked up the envelope. Her name was neatly printed across the front.

She slid out the documents.

The first page stole the breath from her lungs.

Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

Divorce.

The word blurred as tears filled her eyes.

She stared at it for several seconds, unable to process what she was seeing.

Then she looked up at Robin.

"What... is this supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what it says."

Her voice shook.

"You want a divorce?"

"Yes."

The answer came without hesitation.

Without guilt.

Without emotion.

Regina searched his face, hoping to find some sign that this was a cruel joke.

There was none.

"But..." she whispered. "Yesterday was our anniversary."

"I know."

"I waited all night for you."

"I know."

"I made dinner."

"I know."

Each answer felt colder than the last.

Tears rolled down Regina's cheeks.

"Did none of that matter to you?"

Robin exhaled slowly.

"This marriage has never been real."

The words shattered something deep inside her.

"I've tried," she said through trembling lips. "For three years I've tried to be a good wife."

"I never asked you to."

She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering what little strength she had left.

"Was there someone else?"

Robin frowned.

"No."

"So why?"

"My grandparents insisted I marry."

He folded his arms.

"They believed marriage would make me more responsible."

Regina felt her knees weaken.

"So... I was chosen because I was convenient?"

"You were suitable."

Suitable.

Not loved.

Not wanted.

Just...

Suitable.

A bitter laugh escaped her.

"I spent three years believing that if I loved you enough, you would eventually love me back."

Robin remained silent.

"I learned your favorite meals."

Silence.

"I memorized your coffee order."

Silence.

"I stayed awake whenever you worked late."

Silence.

"I defended you every time someone questioned our marriage."

Silence.

"I loved you..."

The last words barely escaped her lips.

Robin looked away.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

Regina stared at him in disbelief.

"That's all you have to say?"

He met her gaze once more.

"It would be kinder to end this now than to continue pretending."

She looked down at the divorce papers resting in her lap.

Every page represented the death of every dream she had carried into this marriage.

A home.

A family.

A husband who would one day smile at her.

Children who would fill the mansion with laughter.

All of it...

Gone.

She wiped away another tear and asked quietly, "When did you decide this?"

"A few months ago."

"A few months..."

"You've been planning our divorce while I was planning our anniversary."

Robin didn't answer.

That silence hurt more than the truth itself.

Regina slowly closed the file and placed it back on the bed.

For the first time since their conversation began, she stood tall.

She looked at the man she had loved for three years.

The man who had never truly looked at her.

"I have one question."

Robin nodded.

"If your grandparents hadn't arranged this marriage..."

She swallowed.

"...would you have ever chosen me?"

He didn't need time to think.

"No."

The single word struck like a blade through her heart.

Something inside Regina broke.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Quietly.

Like glass cracking beneath too much pressure.

She lowered her head for only a moment.

When she looked up again, the tears were still there—but so was a dignity Robin had never noticed before.

"Very well."

Robin seemed almost surprised by her calmness.

She picked up the pen resting beside the documents.

Her hand trembled, but her voice did not.

"If my love has only ever been a burden to you..."

She uncapped the pen.

"...I won't force you to carry it any longer."

Robin watched in silence as Regina signed her name.

Each stroke of the pen closed another chapter of her life.

When she finished, she slid the papers back across the bed.

"There."

Robin reached for them, momentarily caught off guard.

"You signed... without arguing."

Regina gave him a small, heartbreaking smile.

"You already left this marriage long before today."

She turned toward the window, staring out at the gray morning sky.

"I refuse to beg someone to stay when they've already decided to leave."

Behind her, Robin gathered the signed documents.

For the first time in years, the house felt unbearably quiet.

Neither of them realized that this signature would become the greatest mistake of Robin Moretti's life.