All Chapters of 30 Days To Divorce Mr Malcolm : Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

I watch the video three more times unable to stop myself.Soren was laughing, holding a glass of whiskey... whiskey!He's broken his own rule.He leaned into Elizabeth and calls her by a nickname I'd heard in passing many years ago. That makes her giggle and his gray eyes seem to light up at the sight of it.Six years I've known Soren sober, controlled, careful with everything he does. Six years without a single drink in this house. And yet there he is, laughing loud enough that I can hear it through my phone speaker."Welcome home, Liz," he says in the video, arm out, pulling her into the group like she never left. In every memory I have of him, he's calm, steady, and his warmth never once reached his eyes.He's never smiled at me like that. Never used that tone on me, not once. So it isn't that he doesn't know how to be warm. He just never wanted to be, not with me.I bite on the inside of my cheek and try to suppress the ache that spread through my chest.That video drags me into a

I stare at his name, heart pounding so hard I felt it in my throat.I decline the call without a second thought.How can he think to call me after what he did?A message follows a second later.Soren: Stop sulking. It's late, come home now.I groan and try to block out the image of of him waiting at home for me, I archive his message and try turn off my phone when my thumb taps on the gallery icon.At the top of it is a memory it signifies from seven years ago, a video I recognized from just the thumbnail.I held my breath and tapped it.It's me, twenty-one, standing under a spotlight that made the whole world feel like it was finally starting. My voice fills the room, clean and bright, hitting a note I haven't tried to reach in six years. My hair is down. My face is unmarked. I remember exactly what it felt like walking out under those lights without once wondering how anyone was looking at me, chin lifted, shoulders back, no hair to hide behind. I watch myself take the final bow, fl

I turn and find my favorite professor from university standing behind me, drying her hands on a paper towel, face lighting up like she's stumbled onto the best surprise of her week."Venice! It really is you!" She crosses the restroom in two quick steps and pulls me into a hug before I can get her name out. Her perfume is the same one she always wore during my lessons, floral and warm, dragging me straight back a decade to a rehearsal room with mirrors on every wall."Professor Hale." My voice cracks, and I clear my throat to cover it, blinking against the sudden sting behind my eyes. "It's good to see you.""How are you?" She pulls back to look at me properly, hands still on my shoulders, studying my face the way she used to study my posture before a performance — chin up, shoulders back, don't you dare slouch on my stage. Her thumbs press lightly into my collarbones, an old habit from years of correcting my posture backstage. "I heard you accepted the coaching position. I'm the one