Chapter 9: She Said Divorce
981 Words
The word poor did not leave the apartment.
It sat at the dining table.
It followed me into the bathroom.
It lay beside me in the guest room and woke before I did.
Olivia tried to pretend it had not happened.
The next morning, she spoke to me in a careful voice.
"There is bread on the counter."
I looked at the counter.
Two slices.
No plate.
No butter.
A peace offering from someone who did not want to apologize.
"I'm not hungry," I said.
She pressed her lips together.
"Ethan, about last night..."
My phone rang before she finished.
It was another rejection.
Not even a call this time. Just an email.
Thank you for your interest. After careful consideration...
I deleted it.
Olivia watched me.
"Was that a company?"
"No."
She knew I was lying.
I knew she knew.
Neither of us had the energy to call the other out.
That afternoon, I went to meet a labor lawyer. The lawyer reviewed my evidence and said I had a case, but it would take time. QinTech might delay. They might refuse records. They might pressure witnesses.
"Can I win?" I asked.
He looked at me over his glasses.
"Win? Maybe. Quickly? No."
I laughed.
He did not.
When I came home, Adrian's car was downstairs again.
This time, I did not stop in the lobby.
I went straight up.
The door was not locked.
I opened it and heard Olivia's voice from the living room.
"I don't know how much more I can take."
Adrian replied softly, "You have carried too much alone."
Alone.
I stood in the hallway with the lawyer's folder in my hand.
Adrian sat beside her on the sofa again. Olivia's eyes were red. There was a tissue in her hand.
She had cried to him.
Not to me.
To him.
Adrian looked up first.
"Ethan."
Olivia turned.
Her expression shifted from vulnerability to defensiveness so fast it was almost impressive.
"You didn't say you were coming back."
"I live here."
Adrian stood.
"I should go."
"Sit down," I said.
He paused.
Olivia stood too.
"Ethan, don't make a scene."
"A scene?" I looked around the living room. "This is my home. He is sitting on my sofa. My wife is crying to him. And I'm the one making a scene?"
Adrian's voice remained calm.
"Olivia was upset. I only wanted to support her."
"Support her how?"
"Emotionally."
I smiled.
"Generous."
Olivia wiped her face.
"You have no right to mock him."
The sentence landed badly.
I turned to her.
"No right?"
She lifted her chin.
"He has been kinder to me these three months than you have."
For a second, I could not speak.
Then I laughed.
It came out low and broken.
"I lost my job, my reputation, and every interview because my former company poisoned my name. I came home every day and found no dinner, no comfort, no trust. I slept in the guest room of the apartment I paid for. And you are telling me he has been kinder to you?"
Her face went pale, but she did not back down.
"You always say you paid for things."
"Because I did."
"And do you want me to worship you for it?"
"No. I wanted you to remember."
She shook her head.
"I remember everything. The basement. The cheap meals. The years of waiting. The promises. I remember believing you would become someone."
I looked at her.
"And I didn't?"
Her silence answered.
Adrian stepped forward.
"Maybe this conversation should happen privately."
I turned on him.
"You are the reason it is not private."
His face changed.
The mask slipped just enough.
"Careful, Ethan."
The same word Derek had used.
Careful.
Men who wanted to take from you always told you to be careful.
I stepped closer.
"No. You be careful."
Olivia moved between us.
"Stop it!"
Her hands were shaking.
For a moment, all three of us stood in a triangle of broken things.
Then Olivia said the words.
"I want a divorce."
No thunder.
No shattering glass.
Just six syllables.
Clean as a blade.
I looked at her.
Adrian looked down.
But not fast enough.
I saw it again.
The small smile.
The victory he could not fully hide.
"Say it again," I said.
Olivia's eyes filled with tears.
Whether from anger or fear, I did not know.
"I want a divorce."
"Because of him?"
"Because of us."
"There is no us in this room," I said. "There is you, me, and the man waiting for my chair to become empty."
"Don't make this ugly."
"You made it ugly when you invited him into our marriage."
Adrian's voice cooled.
"That is unfair."
I looked at him and smiled.
"Unfair? You came to another man's home at night, sat beside his wife, sold her fantasies, and waited for her to break. Don't use that word with me."
Olivia slapped me.
The sound cracked through the living room.
My head turned slightly.
My cheek burned.
For a second, she looked shocked by her own hand.
Adrian stepped toward her.
"Olivia..."
I touched my cheek.
Then I looked at my wife.
My wife of seven years.
The woman I had carried through winters, debts, and dreams.
"Do you feel better?" I asked.
Her tears fell then.
"Ethan, I..."
"No," I said softly. "You finally made it simple."
I walked past them toward the guest room.
Olivia followed two steps.
"Where are you going?"
"To pack documents."
"For what?"
I turned at the door.
"You asked for divorce. I will need to read whatever paper Adrian helps you prepare."
Her face drained of color.
Adrian did not speak.
He did not need to.
The house had changed ownership before any legal document existed.
I closed the guest room door.
This time, I did not shake.
Something worse had happened.
I had become calm.
- Writer
