The Contract Ended, So Did We
“Sign it.”
Axton’s calm voice echoed in the room. The kind of calm that made silence deafening. He pushed the divorce papers across the polished desk, his expression cold and composed.
The pen rolled until it stopped in front of her hand.
Isla’s fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up. The golden ring on her finger glinted under the office light, a cruel reminder of everything that was about to end. Three years of marriage, three years of smiles and unspoken tenderness, now reduced to a signature line.
They had never married for love, binded by a contract signed for convenience, destined to expire the moment it no longer served its purpose.
And yet somewhere along the way, Isla had forgotten it was only temporary.