I've Made Up My Mind

MARK

The next morning, as I stepped out of my room, ready for work, I noticed something—something was off. The house felt… empty. Too empty.  

“Good morning, Mr. Ronaldo,” Jennifer, the housekeeper, greeted as she approached with a cup of coffee. Alexa had sent her away last night for our "special occasion," yet here she was, back in her usual routine.  

“Your morning coffee, sir.”  

I took the cup and sipped. The taste was familiar, just the way Alexa always made it when I had a long, exhausting day. Was this her way of asking for an apology?  

If it was, it wasn’t enough. No one had ever dared to raise their hand against me before. If she wanted forgiveness, she should have the decency to say it to my face.  

I handed the cup back to Jennifer and glanced around.  

“Where’s Alexa?”  

Jennifer flinched at my question. My eyes narrowed.  

“I asked you a question.”  

She hesitated before blurting out in a rush, “I apologize, sir, but earlier this morning, the madam packed her bags and left. She instructed me to heat the coffee for you before you left for work.”  

Her words barely sank in before a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. Ezekiel, my secretary, entered, carrying a brown envelope.  

“Mr. Ronaldo,” he greeted with a bow. “The madam sent this to the office for you.”  

I snatched the envelope from his hands. The moment I pulled out the document inside, my expression darkened.  

Bold letters.

Divorce Agreement.  

A chill ran through me. The confusion I felt a second ago disappeared, replaced by something cold, something sharp.  

A divorce agreement? She actually had the nerve to go through with it? Rather than coming to her senses, she was still clinging to this ridiculous act?  

My grip on the papers tightened.  

“Sir,” Ezekiel spoke hesitantly, stepping forward with a smaller envelope. “She… also left this for you.”  

I could sense the tension in him, the way he was bracing himself, as if standing too close might get him burned.  

I reached for the envelope, tore it open, and read the note inside.  

*Dear husband,*  

*If you’re reading this, then it means you’ve seen the document I sent. Don’t be arrogant, don’t make this harder than it has to be for either of us. Just sign those papers.*  

*I will not be taking anything—neither your assets nor your money. The only thing I ask is for us to part peacefully. This is the least you can give me for all the years I wasted on you.*  

*Sincerely, your ex-wife.*  

My hands clenched around the note.  

*Wasted years?*  

I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. The call connected after three rings.  

“Hello?” Her voice was calm. Too calm.  

“What the hell is the meaning of this?” I demanded. “Is this another one of your childish attempts at getting my attention?”  

“Far from it,” she replied smoothly. “I told you I wanted a divorce, Mark.”  

I shut my eyes and took a slow breath. She was pushing me, testing my patience.  

“Stop this nonsense, Alexa. Come back.”  

“And why should I?” Her voice was sharper now. “Why should I listen to a man who wouldn’t even act like my husband?”  

“Alexa—” I warned, my voice dropping into a dangerous tone.  

But she cut me off.  

“I’m over you, Mark. The title of your wife? I’m done carrying it. I’m returning it to its rightful owner. Don’t be a delusional dictator. Sign the damn papers.”  

The line went dead.  

For a moment, I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. I just stood there, staring at the fire in the fireplace.  

Ezekiel shifted awkwardly but said nothing. He didn’t need to. The tension in the room spoke for itself.  

Slowly, I looked down at the papers still clenched in my hand. My eyes scanned the document. Everything in it was to my benefit—easily something I would have signed without a second thought.  

Until I saw it.  

*Reason for divorce:* *Irreconcilable differences and SEXUAL DYSFUNCTION.*  

My breath stilled.  

Those two words, written in bold, slammed into me like a fist to the gut.  

Sexual dysfunction?  

Who the fuck told her that something was wrong with me?  

My anger flared, burning hotter than the fire in front of me. My grip on the document tightened, the paper crumpling in my hand.  

“Sir…” Ezekiel spoke cautiously.  

I turned to him, my voice sharp as a blade. “Find her.”  

Ezekiel stiffened. “S-Sir?”  

“I said *find her!*” I snapped.  

He paled and nodded quickly, scurrying out of the room.  

I looked back at the fire. Without hesitation, I tossed the divorce papers into the flames.  

The paper curled and blackened, disappearing into ash.  

Alexa.  

She needed to learn to watch her words.

***

ALEXA

“Aren’t you tired of mopping floors already?” Noelle’s voice cut through my thoughts before I even had a chance to greet her. The moment she heard about my divorce, she stormed over, dragged me into her car, and now we were in a boutique, surrounded by racks of expensive dresses I had no intention of trying on.  

“You’re free now, Alexa. I won’t let you sit around sulking.” She disappeared into the aisles, already searching for something she deemed “nightclub appropriate.”  

I sighed, crossing my arms. “No thanks, Noelle. I really don’t want to go to a nightclub.” I shook my head. “You think men in clubs are any different from him?”  

Noelle poked her head out from between two racks, holding a shimmering red dress. “Maybe not, but at least you’ll have the chance to humiliate a new jerk instead of dwelling on the one who didn’t deserve you.”  

I narrowed my eyes. “Wow. So insightful.”  

She smirked. “Or better yet, why don’t you crawl back to him and apologize for serving him the divorce papers? That sounds like a much better idea, doesn’t it?”  

I glared at her, but I couldn’t deny her words hit exactly where they needed to. Was I really just going to sit around and waste my days feeling sorry for myself?  

Noelle sighed and plopped down beside me. “Look, Alexa. I know you’re hurt, I know you’re exhausted, but you are not going to keep hiding away in my house, feeling miserable over a man who was never worthy of your love.”  

She reached for my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “So, what’s it going to be?”  

I hesitated. A bar wasn’t going to erase the past three years of my life, but I needed something—anything—to remind me that my world didn’t revolve around Mark anymore.  

Noelle grinned as if she could already tell she had won. “Relax! We’re not going there to get married, just to make men rub our feet and regret their existence.”  

I couldn’t help but laugh. Noelle had a way of making everything sound ridiculous enough to be worth doing. I reached into my wallet, pulling out a black card. “You’re right. I was too serious before. Maybe that’s why everyone ignored me.”  

Noelle’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Now that’s the Alexa I know.” She turned to one of the boutique staff. “We need makeup! And something sexy!”  

As the stylists got to work, Noelle kept talking, her words sharp but true. “You know, divorced women always waste time mourning their exes, hesitating to take what they deserve.”  

She leaned in conspiratorially. “Meanwhile, men? They just mock our stupidity in secret.”  

When my makeup was finally done, Noelle clapped her hands together in delight. “Alexa, the whole of Paris is about to know who the most beautiful woman in

this city is. And that jerk? He’ll regret ever letting you go.”  

She stood up and extended a hand. 

“Now, get up. We’ve got a bar to conquer.”