Chapter 5: Divorcé

Marcus was already out of bed before I woke up. The space beside me was cold and empty. He had left without a word, without a goodbye,

We never left things unsettled. Never. But now… he was gone. And for the first time in our marriage, I felt the weight as though evil eyes had fallen over us.

“Anna!”

I blinked, startled back into reality. Miss Martha, the senior designer, stood at the doorway of my office, her sharp eyes fixed on me.

“Anna, you came to work late today,” she said coldly. “And now your mind is wandering somewhere else.”

I sat up straighter, pressing my fingers to my temple as a headache throbbed behind my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Miss Martha. I didn’t hear you.”

She stepped inside, unimpressed. “You look like a funeral followed you to work, with your mood affecting your performance, I will keep rejecting your work cause it  Depressing.”

“That’s not true,” I said quietly. “My designs are good because I take my work seriously.”

“Whatever,” she waved it off. “Leave what you’re doing. You’ll accompany Jessie the head semi-stress to a fitting session for Michelle Campbell’s photo shoot.”

I stiffened. “Miss Martha, I came here to design, not to dress celebrities.”

“Yes, yes,” she replied sharply. “But we must crawl before we walk, Anna. So do as I say. And don’t talk back. Both of you don’t mess this up.” She walked away.

I stared at her retreating figure. This feels like a demotion, I thought bitterly. Maybe Gina was right after all.

Jessie and I waited at the magical studio with the dresses neatly arranged. When Michelle Campbell arrived, she walked in like royalty, red one-shoulder A-line dress, dark glasses, confidence spilling from every step. Her handbag alone could pay my salary for years.

The fitting took longer than expected. Michelle Campbell wouldn’t stop talking about our boss, Mr. Kings, about how good he fucked her in bed and how much she wanted to date him   I couldn’t help but feel sorry for my boss if he continued with women like her, his reputation would eventually suffer.

We watched Michelle pose gracefully under the flashing cameras, the dress clinging to her perfectly like it was made for only her. A few minutes later the shoot was over, and I hurried home   

When I got home, I walked into the kitchen, picked up a glass from the rack, and went to the fridge for some water first to quench my thirst. I noticed a white envelope pinned to the refrigerator door, my name written neatly across it.

I frowned, trying to remember if it had been there since morning. Maybe I’d missed it in my rush. My heart fluttered with fragile hope. Maybe it was a love letter. An apology. Maybe Marcus had finally decided to explain.

My hands trembled as I opened it. My world stopped. The glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor.

My body felt as though ice water had been poured through my veins. My eyes blurred as I read the words again and again, praying they would change.

It wasn’t a love letter.

It wasn’t an apology.

It was a divorce letter.

I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming. Tears streamed freely as I stumbled into the living room, fumbling through my bag for my phone. My hands shook so badly that I emptied everything onto the floor just to find it.

When I finally dialed his number, it went straight to voicemail.

I called again and again.

Nothing.

“He can’t do this to me,” I whispered, shaking my head. “This has to be a joke… a mistake… a cruel prank.”

But the paper in my hand felt too real.

My tears wouldn’t stop. My chest ached. My body felt hollow.

I sank onto the living room floor, still clutching the letter, waiting for him to come home and explain everything.

I waited and waited. Until exhaustion finally pulled me into a broken, restless sleep.