All Chapters of Divorce ?... That's Foreplay : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Aria’s POV “Would you please stop screaming.” The words cut through the rush of wind and the roaring in my ears. I opened my eyes. For a second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing. I wasn’t on the rail anymore sure, but I wasn’t falling either. I was... hanging. Suspended over dark, endless water, my feet kicking uselessly at nothing. My heart slammed so hard against my ribs it hurt. I sucked in a sharp breath and almost choked on it. I slowly lifted my gaze. Blue eyes stared back at me. Not soft blue. Not bright. Dark blue—deep and cold, like water at midnight. The kind that swallowed up the light instead of reflecting it. But more than the water below me, more than the height, more than the fact that I was one weak grip away from dying—what terrified me was the smile on his face. It wasn’t cruel. It was calm. “Are you CRAZY?!” I screamed, my voice breaking as panic finally took full control. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even tighten his grip. “Keep ye

Aria’s POVWhen I finally came out of the bathroom, the room was quiet.Too quiet.The bed was made—too neat for how we’d left it. The curtains were still half-drawn, sunlight slanting in the same way as before, but the place felt different. Empty. I stood there for a moment, towel still wrapped around my hair, waiting for him to step out of somewhere I couldn’t see.But he wasn’t there.My chest dipped in a way I didn’t expect. I told myself it was relief. That this was better. Cleaner. Easier to explain to myself later. But the disappointment sat stubbornly under all of that, heavy and uninvited.I dressed slowly, giving him time to come back even though I knew that was pointless. His phone was gone. His clothes too. Nothing left behind that proved he’d even been here, except the memory pressed into my skin.I sat on the edge of the bed and let myself think—really think—for the first time since the accident.Before all this, I’d believed I was careful. Smart. I avoided danger. I

MarcelThe rink was loud in the way only a packed arena could be with skates carving ice, sticks clacking and the crowd buzzing like a live wire. Cold air burned my lungs as I pushed off, my muscles falling into familiar rhythm. This was supposed to be the one place my head stayed clear.It wasn’t working.“Marce, focus,” Micheal barked from my left as we lined up for the face-off.“I am,” I said, though it came out automatic.The puck dropped. I reacted on instinct, stick snapping down, legs driving. We broke right, the opposing winger chasing hard. I cut across the blue line, dumped the puck deep, and peeled back to cover. My body did what it had been trained to do for years, even while my mind was somewhere else entirely.Aria.The name slipped in without permission.I saw her the way she’d looked that night, all pale and shaky with eyes too big for her face. I’d pulled her back from the edge... literally. The feel of her weight in my arms had surprised me. She’d been light

Aria's POVI was already ten minutes into regretting my life choices when Taylor leaned over and whispered, “If I fail this class, I’m suing the university for emotional damage.”I snorted, elbowing her lightly. “You say that every semester.”“And yet I remain traumatized,” she replied, scribbling something that looked more like a cry for help than notes. She began aggressively shading in the margins of her notebook, her pen scratching against the paper in a frantic rhythm that matched the restless energy of the room.The lecture hall was half-full, the kind of class where attendance technically mattered but no one really listened. The professor droned on about cognitive behavioral frameworks, his voice steady, monotonous, almost soothing if you weren’t actively trying to stay awake. It was a thick, syrupy sound that seemed to coat the room in a layer of boredom, making the air feel stale and heavy with the smell of cheap coffee and old wood.I was trying.Barely.My mind kept drif

AriaThe gym was just beyond the edges of campus, tucked behind a row of glass-fronted offices and manicured hedges that made it look more like a private club than a training facility. I almost turned around twice.The first time was when I parked and saw the matte-black sign with no name—just a symbol etched into metal like it didn’t need to explain itself to anyone who didn't already know why they were there. The second time was when I stepped inside.I didn’t belong here.That thought echoed through me, a hollow vibration in my chest as I scanned the space. The gym was quiet but not empty. A few people trained in silence, their movements focused and intense; they were the kind of people who looked like they knew exactly what they were capable of and didn't feel the need to prove it.And then I saw him.Marcel was in the ring.His shirt was off, discarded somewhere I couldn’t see, his skin slick with a sheen of sweat that caught the harsh overhead lights every time he rotated his