Chapter 2: We're Over
945 Words
"Don't you dare say her name." Julian spun around, his eyes blazing with an anger that cut through the darkness. "You don't have the right. A woman who would heartlessly frame her own sister has no right to even speak her name!"
The image of Vivienne, fragile and helpless before she left, flashed through his mind, fueling the hatred in his gaze.
Aria had expected the explosion, but she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out, a desperate, final plea. "Julian, I've told you, I never framed her. What happened back then—"
"I only trust what I saw with my own eyes!" he snarled. "Are you not sick of this act, Aria? It's been two years."
That single sentence silenced her completely. He would only ever believe Vivienne. Why bother humiliating herself further?
Neither of them spoke again. Julian turned his back to her once more, a rigid line of demarcation down the center of the bed.
Aria didn't sleep. As the first grey light of dawn seeped into the room, she finally rose, rubbing her raw, swollen eyes. In the bathroom mirror, she watched the hot water cascade over the canvas of her skin, a constellation of bruises blooming across her body—the last marks Julian would ever leave on her.
She didn't linger. After dressing, she pulled a small, prepared suitcase from the back of the closet. It was barely large enough for a weekend trip, yet it held everything she owned in this house. She had always been a guest here. Now, her stay was over.
One last time, she walked to the side of the bed and looked down at him. In sleep, his features softened. The harsh lines of his anger were gone, replaced by a quiet innocence that made him look like a boy.
"Goodbye, Julian," she whispered. She placed a folded document on the nightstand beside him, then turned, pulling her suitcase behind her. She didn't look back.
The moment the door clicked shut, Julian's eyes opened. A mocking smile touched his lips.
Playing hard to get, Aria? Your methods are as pathetic as ever. So, after two years, you finally break. I hope this time you disappear for good.
And yet, despite the thought, a strange and unwelcome agitation coiled in his gut. He rolled over, his hand brushing against the papers she’d left. The words printed in bold, stark letters at the top were unmistakable: DIVORCE AGREEMENT.
"You've got some nerve, Aria," he hissed, the words a low growl in the quiet room. He snatched the papers and sat bolt upright, flipping violently to the final page. There, in her neat, elegant script, was her signature. A clean, final line drawn between them.
Outside the villa, Aria nearly collided with Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper. The older woman’s eyes widened in alarm at Aria’s red-rimmed eyes and the suitcase in her hand.
"Aria, dear, what is all this? Where are you going? Did you and Mr. Sterling have another fight?"
"Mrs. Gable, thank you for everything these past two years," Aria said, her voice firm despite the tremor in it. "But he and I... we're over now. Please, take care of yourself." Ignoring the housekeeper's frantic protests, she walked away.
From the corner of the long driveway, she paused for one final glance. The curtains of their bedroom were still drawn. He probably didn't even know she was gone. When he woke, he would surely be relieved that the clinging woman he despised had finally vanished from his life.
"Mr. Sterling, sir! It's terrible!" Mrs. Gable, casting aside all propriety in her panic, burst directly into the master bedroom. "I just saw Aria leave with a suitcase!"
Julian was already standing in the middle of the room. He'd noticed it too—nothing seemed out of place. No frantic packing, no mess. Her belongings were already gone, as if she had been planning this departure for some time. The realization ignited a fresh wave of fury.
He should be happy. The sham marriage he'd been forced into was finally over. But ever since she walked out that door, a chaotic restlessness had taken root in him.
Why did she get to decide when it ended? After all the scheming it took for her to trap him in this marriage, she wasn't going to get away without paying for what she did.
You don't get to leave that easily, Aria.
The thought solidified into a decision. He grabbed his car keys from the dresser and stormed out of the villa.
Perhaps it was the sleepless night or the hours spent crying, but Aria's steps grew heavy as she walked along the quiet suburban road. A dull throb started behind her eyes, and her legs felt as if they were filled with lead. Her grip on the suitcase handle slackened.
That was how Julian found her, not even half a mile from the house. She looked fragile, her pace agonizingly slow, as if she might collapse at any moment.
He didn’t know why he had chased after her. He only knew that the sight of her, vulnerable and alone on the side of the road, caused an unconscious knot of anxiety in his chest to loosen.
He didn't get out of the car. He would watch. He would see how long she could keep up this pathetic little drama.
The sun climbed higher, the heat becoming scorching, making the asphalt shimmer. Aria’s eyelids grew heavy. A sharp, twisting pain suddenly erupted in her lower abdomen.
She stopped. The suitcase, nudged by a small stone on the pavement, tipped over. And as it fell, so did she.
- Writer
