Under His Darkness

5. The Exit

“Divorce?” Nathan’s voice was soft, but sharp as shattered glass.

Nayla didn’t flinch. Her gaze met the man she once loved— or thought she loved, with unwavering defiance. “Yes. I’ve made up my mind.”

Nathan took a step forward. His smile lingered, but Nayla could see the calculation behind the mask of warmth and charm.

“Sweetheart, I understand you’re tired,” he said gently, as if the words weren’t a dismissal, but an embrace. “Marriage isn’t always easy. Your mind is clouded, that’s why you’re thinking of something so… insane.”

Nayla let out a dry laugh. “This is the sanest thought I’ve ever had in this insane marriage.”

Nathan slowly rose from his chair. He adjusted the collar of his suit with a calm, almost theatrical grace. Then, he brushing Nayla’s hair as if tenderly, though it only made her stomach turn.

“What’s gotten into your head, Nay?” Nathan whispered. His eyes weren’t sharp, but held an unnerving edge. “Surely, separation isn’t an option for people who love each other?”

She stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes didn’t blink, as if trying to confirm he really said that. But instead of being moved, she only felt more nauseated.

“You dare talk about love?” Nayla’s voice was hoarse, quiet, but brimming with restrained fury.

Nathan touched her arm lightly with his usual move. The gesture that used to soothe her now made her want to recoil as far as possible.

“I just want us to be okay, Nay. I want you to be happy.”

She took a step back. “You talk like an angel, but you can’t even remember the last time you asked if I was actually okay.”

Nathan sighed, pretending to be disappointed. “Sweetheart, you’re being emotional. I get it, this is hard, but—”

“No. You don’t get it,” Nayla cut in. “All you care about is keeping everything perfect on the outside. As long as your smile shows on screen, as long as the world sees you as the perfect husband, you don’t care how many times I have to swallow pain alone.”

Nathan went silent. His face remained composed. But Nayla knew that behind that calm exterior, his mind was calculating. Nathan was always like that.

“Nay, you know this could ruin everything,” he said softly.

He didn’t say ‘marriage’. Not even ‘love’. Just ‘everything’. And Nayla knew exactly what he meant was his public image, his career, his popularity, and his perfect life in the world’s eyes.

“I don’t care anymore,” she answered. Her voice calm, though her eyes burned with rage. “I’m done living a lie. I’m done being a background character in your life.”

“What’s wrong with you, Nayla? You know I’m about to launch my new film,” he said with a tone that begged for understanding. “The media will be all over us. We can’t make rash decisions right now. This isn’t just about us.”

Nayla gave a thin, almost mocking smile. “Funny you say ‘us’, you were the first to kill the meaning of that word.”

Nathan frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Open marriage,” Nayla said coldly.

“You’re still on about that? Oh, c’mon, Nayla.”

Her face hardened. “I remember when you first suggested it. Said it was ‘for our freedom together.’ I thought maybe I was being too old-fashioned. But really, I just loved you too much.”

“Nayla—"

“No. Listen.” Her tone turned sharp. “You pitched that disgusting idea while holding me like everything was okay. You used sweet words and your charming smile to make me believe this was some mature form of love. When really, all you wanted was to celebrate your ego without guilt.”

Nathan lowered his gaze, his eyes feigning remorse. “I just wanted you to be free. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Stop,” Nayla hissed. “You always say that. What you really mean is, you wanted me to stay beside you, and be the ever-supportive wife, even when your choices humiliated me.”

He looked up again, still smiling gently. “You know I never meant to hurt you, Nay. I love you.”

“You love me? You want me to be happy? You want freedom? Then let’s get a divorce."

Nathan fell silent again. His eyes still showed no anger. But again, the look was filled with calculation. His calm demeanor made Nayla feel like she was being observed, mapped out, manipulated.

“Think this through, Sweetheart,” Nathan finally said. His voice still soft, as if he were the perfect husband, still caring for his wife. “Is it really that easy for you to talk about divorce? Have you forgotten all the joy we’ve shared? Because I remember it all. I remember how we used to laugh.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Nathan. I remember it. And now I realize that joy is dead. You buried it yourself the moment you disguised betrayal as ‘permission.’”

“No. Think again. You’re just making a mistake.”

Her lips curled in a bitter half-smile. “You’ve always been good at making me feel like I was wrong for choosing myself. But this time, I’m choosing honest pain over your fake happiness.”

“I don’t believe you’re serious. Just calm down. We’ll talk again later. At home. Okay?”

“No. I’m serious. Dead serious.”

“Divorce is too extreme for a problem this small, Nayla. I don’t believe you truly want it. You’re even still wearing our wedding ring.”

With steady confidence, Nayla raised her hand and showed him her ring finger. “Yes, I’m still wearing it. Because I want to remember what it feels like to be bound and strangled, all at once.”

Nathan stared at her in silence. His eyes hadn’t changed. Still calm, still warm, still feigning tenderness. But behind that calm, his thoughts cracked like a shattered mirror. He never imagined the woman who once obeyed so sweetly, so gracefully, now stood before him like a storm that arrived uninvited.

Nayla didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. Her words were sharp, yet precise, like she had rehearsed them a thousand times in her mind. And that, for Nathan, was the most jarring part.

It wasn’t her anger that shook him. It was her complete control. This wasn’t rebellion born from rage. It was resignation born from clarity.

Of course Nathan was surprised. Deeply surprised. But a man like Nathan could always manage a calm smile. Always.

He wouldn’t let it show how rattled he truly was, facing this Nayla. This Nayla, who no longer looked afraid. This Nayla, who for the first time in their marriage, was no longer under his thumb.

“Sweetheart—”

She cut him off with a single raised hand. The open palm said like, ‘stop talking’. Especially not with that endearment that now sounded revolting.

“You’ll regret letting your emotions ruin everything. We have it all, Nay. The warm house. The reputation. The future.”

She gave him a look— bitter, piercing. “Stop using the word ‘we.’ And yes, you have it all, Nathan. What you no longer have is… me.”

Nayla turned sharply. Her heels clicked down the corridor, each step a striking echo. Precise, rhythmic, and defiant. She didn’t look back, not even when Nathan’s footsteps followed a few paces behind.

His long legs moved to match her pace. Always with that signature gait. Composed, in control, too flawless to arouse suspicion.

“Nayla.” His voice called out. Soft and concerned. “Don’t walk away like this. We can talk."

She almost laughed. Talk? After years of a marriage staged like theater, now he wanted to talk?

Without turning around, Nayla quickened her steps. Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at the screen, and a name appeared.

-Damian:-

[You said you wanted out. I’m waiting. No questions. Just come.]

The message felt like a cold gust of midnight air— sharp, but invigorating. Dangerous? Absolutely. But there was honesty in the pain Damian offered. No pretense. No honeyed traps. Just raw, brutal intent.

Nayla exhaled slowly. Her mind was chaos. Her emotions, torn and frayed. But one thing was clear, she couldn’t and wouldn’t return to Nathan’s cage.

Damian? He wasn’t a safe door. But he was an exit.

“I have to choose,” Nayla whispered to herself.

The car wasn’t flashy. A sleek black sedan, its shine blending into the night. Parked a few meters away from the crowd. Far enough from the cameras, but close enough for her to find.

Her steps were light, but hurried, like someone fleeing without leaving tracks. Her hand trembled as she reached for the door handle. Only for a second. Then, she opened the passenger door and slid in, as if she’d known all along this was where she belonged.

The scent of leather and masculine cologne wrapped around her inside the car. Quiet and cold. But a kind of safety for a woman trying to turn danger into shelter.

Nayla sat still. She let out a long breath, resting against the seat, closing her eyes. As if sinking into the enormity of the decision she had just made.

In the distance, Nathan saw where she was headed. He quickened his pace, but couldn’t run. He wouldn’t allow the cameras to catch anything suspicious. So he simply walked faster, calling her name in a tight, contained voice.

“Nayla!"

She opened her eyes. Turned slightly to catch a glimpse of his silhouette approaching in the side mirror. But of course, she didn’t get out. Not even to lower the window.

The engine purred softly. Then the car pulled away. This scene was simple, yet it felt like fate had finally come to fetch Nayla from the prison called marriage. As if it was pulling her away from everything that had rotted behind her.

For the first time in a very long while, Nayla felt truly in control of her life. Even if it was in a way that was... perhaps... the most dangerous.