After Nine Rejections, I Stopped Waiting

Chapter 2

Jacob stood up and walked toward me, step by step.

He raised his hand, attempting to touch my face, his tone carrying his usual domineering reassurance.

"Camila, stop making a scene. Let's go home."

I jerked my head aside, my gaze fixed on him.

"Jacob, I made nine appointments, and you shot me down every time. Yet when Amara brought her cat home, you were at her beck and call. Jacob, what exactly am I to you?"

His lips pressed into a thin line, his expression cold and grim, his tone tinged with impatience.

"I'm the hospital director. I have to keep work and my private life separate. Anniversaries can be celebrated every year, but Amara genuinely needed someone at the last minute.

"You're always so pushy, so hung up on being right. Everything has to be a battle with you. Aren't you tired?"

My father hurried to smooth things over.

"Camila, how can a married couple have a perfect celebration every single time? Jacob is under so much pressure from surgeries, and Amara is sensible and considerate enough to keep him company. What's wrong with that?

"As Dr. Jenkins's wife, you don't know how to be the bigger person. You only know how to pick fights over every little thing. No wonder Jacob wants to spend less and less time with you."

I looked at my father in disbelief.

Ever since I was young, he taught me to be independent, clear-headed, and strong.

But when I turned out like that, waiting quietly for companionship without making a fuss, he accused me of not being considerate enough.

Amara chose this moment to speak softly.

"Mr. Perry, don't blame Camila. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have troubled Dr. Jenkins and caused you two to argue. If it bothers you that much, then I'll never contact Dr. Jenkins again. Just be happy together, okay?"

However, the more she backed down and acted sensible, the more my behavior appeared mean and unreasonable.

Jacob's frown deepened, disappointment in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Look at you. You don't even have half her clarity."

I clutched the food container in my hand, my fingertips turning white from the force, a bitter ache in my chest.

"Jacob, is it so hard to admit you're cheating?"

That only made my father angrier. He stepped forward and slapped the thermos from my hands.

The container crashed to the ground with a sharp c***k.

Just like the marriage I had carefully maintained for three years—wretched, in ruins, shattered.

"Enough! Camila, do you have to take this too far? Amara is kind and gracious, putting up with you at every turn, yet you keep pushing her without an ounce of gratitude!

"Jacob's career is thriving, yet you don't know how to support him—all you do is hold him back and throw tantrums! How did I end up with such a spoiled daughter?"

I looked from the mess on the floor to my father's twisted face, my heart constricting in waves.

I never imagined that my own father, the person closest to me, would shatter my anniversary with his own hands for my junior's sake.

Jacob frowned at the soup spilled across the floor.

He didn't blame my father, nor did he show any concern for me. His voice was flat and indifferent.

"What's the point of making a scene like this? Camila, what happened to your dignity and grace?"

He was always like this, always perched on his moral high ground, judging me.

"This ends here. Go make another appointment tomorrow. I'll have my assistant reserve a slot for you so we can make up for our anniversary."

I took a deep breath, forcing back the tears welling up in my eyes.

"There's no need. Jacob, your time is too precious. I can't afford to keep waiting, and I don't want to anymore."

Ignoring Jacob's darkening expression, I walked straight out of the restaurant and called my lawyer.

"Draw up divorce papers. ASAP."

The voice on the other end said yes.