Chapter 3

I lowered my phone, my tone flat.

Her expression changed instantly.

She whipped her head toward him, her voice turning shrill.

"You told me you were divorced!"

Derek stayed silent.

"Derek, are you deaf?"

She shoved his shoulder.

"You swore you finalized it months ago! You promised you'd buy a condo and marry me!"

Hearing that last part, I couldn't help but let out a dry laugh.

"Our joint account has less than fifteen grand in it."

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What condo is he buying you? One drawn on a napkin?"

Her face flushed crimson, and she glared at him.

"Derek! Explain yourself right now! Is she telling the truth?"

"You're not divorced? And you're broke?"

Derek's lips moved, managing a strained mumble.

"Mia, listen to me... I really want to be with you. Just give me some time."

"Give you time for what?"

She cut him off, her voice screeching higher.

"Time to feed me more lies? I'm telling you, divorce her right now!"

"If you sign the papers, we can still have a life together. If you don't, we're done!"

She sounded completely entitled, chin tilted up like a debt collector.

As if she were the only victim here.

Derek stood caught between us, glancing left and right, sweat dripping down his temples.

"Mia, divorce isn't that simple. You have to give me..."

"Give you what?"

Tears welled in her eyes, her voice shaking.

"What did you tell me back then? You said there was zero love left between you two! You said you'd been separated for two years!"

"I cooked for you, did your laundry, stayed up with you when you worked late, spent a whole month picking out your birthday gift! What did I want from you? I just wanted you!"

"And you haven't even filed the damn paperwork?"

She grew more hysterical by the second.

"Derek, give me a straight answer today. Are you divorcing her, or not?"

He opened his mouth, completely speechless.

Watching him standing there, a wave of profound absurdity washed over me.

This same man had warmed milk for me in the kitchen this morning and reminded me to bundle up against the cold.

When he cut fruit, he would slice apples into perfect bite-sized wedges and set two little forks beside the plate.

He tracked my cycle, quietly slipping heating pads into my bag three days before my period every month.

I thought that was love.

Turns out, he offered the exact same gentleness to another woman.

The exact same tender act.

"We're getting divorced," I said, my voice cutting through the corridor.

"And you're leaving with nothing."