Chapter Three : The Divorce

Nicole Garcia

I rushed home immediately after snapping out of my self pity. I needed to make things right with him. I couldn't let it end like this without making him understand the truth.

"Damian!" I yelled his name loudly as soon as I got to the front steps of the estate. Once I got into the house, I began searching each room for him.

I found him in the study not long after. The door was open, which meant he wanted me to find him, or he didn't care enough to close it, and I wasn't sure which one was worse. He was sitting at his desk, and in his hands he was holding a stack of papers tied with a red ribbon. My heart sank to my stomach.

I knew what they were.

Allison had drafted them months ago, back when she'd first started whispering in my ear about how unfair it was to keep Damian tied to a marriage he never truly wanted. He deserves someone who actually loves him, sis. Let him go. It's the kindest thing you could do for him. She'd had her own lawyer write them up, had them printed on expensive paper, and pressed them into my hands one night when I was too raw and worn down to argue. I remembered signing my part with a hollow feeling in my chest, telling myself it was mercy. I hadn't wanted to believe I was doing something cruel. I told myself I was setting him free.

He hadn't taken it as mercy. He'd flung them across the floor of the bedroom the night I gave them to him, but I had carried them and put them in the drawers of his study in case he ever changed his mind.

"Damian," I said, stepping into the room, but didn't look up.

"Please don't do this," I said. My voice was small and I hated how small it was.

He picked up a pen and placed it on the papers, and I knew exactly what he was going to do. I felt a lump in my throat as I rushed to yank the pen out of his hands.

"Damian, please—"

But I was already too late as he signed on the paper, turning over the pages and signing where it was dotted for his signature. When he was done, he set the pen down and slowly folded his part of the signed divorce papers and tucked it into his breast pocket.

"It's done," he finally said and pushed himself off the chair, walking past me in quick strides.

"Damian, wait—" I tried to catch his arm, but he was faster and I found myself stumbling towards the floor that I had to hold on to the desk for support. He walked out of the study and down the stairs, and I followed him, my feet moving before my brain could catch up.

"Please," I said, grabbing his arm again. "Please, Damian. Just listen to me."

He paused and stared at me with an emotionless look in his eyes. "You've had three years to say something," he said. "Why do you chose now?"

"I didn't know—"

"You didn't know what? That I loved you? That I would have done anything for you?" He pulled his arm away from mine gently. "I thought you knew. I thought that's why you let her hand me those papers instead of telling me yourself."

He kept walking, and I had no choice but to follow, because what else could I do? My chest was on fire, filled with the ache of watching him believe something that wasn't the whole truth.

"Damian, I'm begging you—"

"Don't." He stopped at the front door with his hand on the handle. "Don't beg, Nicole. It doesn't suit you."

Tears were streaming down my face. I couldn't stop them. I didn't even try. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry for everything. The baby. The papers. All of it. I'm so sorry, Damian."

His eyes were red around the edges too, as if he was also holding himself back from breaking down, but that was it. I saw it in his eyes that he was done crying for me.

"You said that before," he said quietly.

"I mean it this time, I swear to you, Damian. Please..."

"You meant it last time too." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I guess I was just slow to accept it."

I had no words to answer to that, and I could only beg him with the tears pouring down my eyes in torrents. I was being genuine now. I meant every word I said. Why couldn't he see it?

Behind him, in the hallway, I caught sight of Maria, our live-in maid, standing near the kitchen door with a rag in her hand, and Lucas a few steps behind her. They looked away quickly when they saw me notice them, and something hot and humiliated rose in my throat.

"Please, not now," I said quietly, my voice cracking, and I looked away first, ashamed of myself for even snapping that much. I hadn't meant to say anything at all.

Maria dipped her head and disappeared back toward the kitchen without a word, Lucas following after her.

I turned back to Damian only to find disappointment in his eyes.

"See?" he said as he shook his head.

"See what?"

"That's exactly it," he said, his voice quiet and gentle, and it made things even worse. It would have been better if he screamed at me, but he was always calm. "Even now, when you're trying to convince me you've changed, you can't stand people seeing you like this. You care more about how it looks than about what actually happened between us."

"Damian..." the lump in my throat got bigger that I couldn't even swallow my saliva. "I can try—"

"You've been trying for three years." He shook his head. "If this is you trying, know that it is pathetic, Nicole."

He was out of the house without even waiting for me to respond, taking brisk steps towards his car.

"Where are you going?" I asked. "I don't want to divorce anymore, Damian. I want to stay married to you. I want to—"

"I'm moving out tomorrow. Have a nice day, Nicole. It was nice knowing you."

"Damian!" I tried again, but he was already driving out of the estate, and even my legs could not run after the car.

I didn't know when my knees sank to the ground and I cried. Hard. Cried like the night I almost lost my father in an accident. Cried so hard because of my stupid mistakes and childish behaviour.

That night, I sat on the floor of our bedroom, my eyes still heavy with unshed tears as I thought about everything that had gone wrong between Damian and me. If he had ever pulled away from me the way I let Allison pull me away from him, I was sure I would have taken it far worse than he had. But he had been too patient and loving with me. Beside me, my phone rang, and I almost jumped to answer thinking it was him calling.

It was Justin instead, and my face fell. The man who wanted to sell my kidney to the highest bidder while pretending to be in love with me.

"Hey, babe," he said, and his voice was warm and filled with concern like usual. "They're moving the surgery up to tomorrow morning. The doctors want you to come in tonight for prep."

"I'm not doing it." I said immediately, and I knew he was too stunned to speak because he thought I was the woman who would lay down her life for him.

"What?"

"I'm not giving you my kidney, Justin."

"Nicole—" His voice changed and it became sharp. "What are you talking about? We talked about this. You promised."

"I changed my mind."

"You can't just change your mind. My life is on the line, and you're my only hope."

"Find someone else."

"There is no one else." His voice was rising now. I had never heard him raise his voice before. Not once in six months. He was always patient, always sweet, always understanding. "You're a match. You're the only match. If you don't do this, I could die."

"No, you won't."

"What?"

"Because you're not sick, Justin." My voice was shaking, but I still kept going. "There's no kidney disease. You made it up all these while. You just want a healthy organ to sell on the black market." I was almost screaming at him now.

"Who told you that?" he asked carefully after staying silent for a while, and the tears still kept falling from my eyes.

"It doesn't matter who told me."

"Nicole, listen to me—"

"No. You listen to me." I was full blown crying now, but I didn't care. "I know everything. The fire. Allison. The plan to take everything from me. I know it all."

"What fire? What are you talking about? There's no fire."

"Not yet," I laughed despite myself. "But there will be, and I will not let myself die this time."

"Nicole, you're not making any sense—"

"Goodbye, Justin.”