Chapter 6: Divorce Papers
887 Words
The envelope was on the kitchen counter. Cream paper. Thick. His lawyer’s name embossed in the corner.
Aurora saw it before she saw him.Charlie stood by the window with coffee in his hand. He wasn’t looking at her. Lila was in the living room, barefoot, scrolling through something on Charlie’s tablet. Laughing at something.
“Sign it,” Charlie said without turning. “Both copies. My lawyer will pick them up at four.”
Aurora picked up the envelope. Her name was on it. Aurora Kingston.
She opened it. The pages were crisp. Legal words she didn’t read.
Irreconcilable differences.
No fault.
Effective immediately.
Her hands didn’t shake.
She went to the drawer, found a pen. The same pen she’d used at City Hall.
She signed. Once. Twice.
The ink was dark and final.
“Done,” she said.
Charlie finally looked at her. “Good.”
That was all. Lila glanced up from the couch. “Oh. Are those the papers?” She smiled, soft and apologetic. “I’m so sorry it came to this, Aurora. Really.”
Aurora nodded. She put the pen back in the drawer. Closed it. “I’ll have my things out by tonight,” Aurora said.“You don’t have to rush,” Lila said.“It’s fine.”
Charlie didn’t answer. He took his coffee and went to his office. The door shut.
Aurora went to her room. The guest room. The one that was never hers.
She packed the same black suitcase. Two books. The sweater. The photo of her and Lila at the lake. She didn’t look at it long.
The housekeeper came in with a box for the dresses. The ones that didn’t fit.
“Do you want me to ship these?”
“No,” Aurora said. “Donate them.”
By four, the lawyer came. A man in a gray suit who didn’t meet her eyes. He took the signed papers and left.
Charlie didn’t come out to say goodbye.
Aurora stood at the door with her suitcase. The penthouse was quiet except for the hum of the city. She looked down the hall once. The office door was still closed.
Then she left.
---
The apartment was small. One bedroom in Queens. Brick walls. A window that faced a fire escape.
She paid three months upfront with cash from her Beacon account. Anonymous. No Kingston name on the lease.
The first night she slept on the floor with a blanket. The second night she bought a mattress.
She threw up on the third morning.
It wasn’t the coffee. It wasn’t the stress.
It was different. Sour and sudden.
She stood in the tiny bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Pale. Tired.
A week later she went to a clinic. No insurance. Cash.
The nurse was kind and didn’t ask questions.
“Congratulations,” the nurse said, sliding the paper across the desk. “About eight weeks.”
Aurora looked at the black and white blur on the ultrasound. A flicker.
Her hand went to her stomach without thinking.
Outside, it was raining. The same kind of rain as New York always had.
She didn’t call anyone.
That night she sat on the floor with her laptop. Beacon had hit 80,000 users. Mara had sent three messages. We need to talk funding. Investors want a face.
Aurora typed back: Give them the product.
Then she closed the laptop.
She put her hand on her stomach.
“Hey,” she whispered.
---
Two weeks later, she saw them.
She was buying groceries. Bag of rice. Tea. Crackers.
And there, across the aisle, was Charlie.
He had Lila’s hand in his. Lila was laughing, holding up a bottle of wine.
Charlie looked different. Lighter. His shoulders weren’t up by his ears.
Aurora ducked behind a shelf. Waited until they passed.
She didn’t go home right away. She walked. Twelve blocks. The rain started again.
At her apartment she took off her wet coat and sat on the mattress.
The divorce was finalized in the mail three days later. A single sheet. Decree Granted.
She filed it in a drawer.
Her phone buzzed. Mara: Series A meeting next month. You have to come. No more hiding.
Aurora stared at the message.
She looked down at her stomach. It was still flat under her sweater.
She typed: I’ll think about it.
She didn’t tell Charlie.
She didn’t tell Lila.
She didn’t tell the lawyer.
Some nights she dreamed of the lake. Of holding him, and him whispering thank you.
She woke up with her hand on her stomach and the room too quiet.
One morning she stood in front of the mirror and practiced saying it out loud.
“I’m pregnant.” The words felt foreign.
She shook her head.No.
He’d made his choice. The papers were signed. The ring was in a box she’d left on the penthouse counter.
This was hers.
She made tea. Put on her coat. Went to the co-working space in Brooklyn.
Priya hugged her. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” Aurora said.
She opened her laptop. The code was waiting.
And somewhere uptown, Charlie Kingston was planning a future with the woman he thought he’d lost.
And Aurora Hayes was building one he would never be part of.
- Writer
