Dumped and Divorced, Renew to be Exclusive

Chapter 6

Liora

Steam rose like ghosts from the surface of the hot spring, curling into the freezing night air. The moon hung pale and sharp above the mountains, its reflection rippling over the water. I crouched behind a cluster of rocks, my camera pressed to my chest, breath clouding in front of me.

Through the mist, I could see them.

Ken was sitting in the warm pool, his arms resting along the edge, his eyes half-closed like he didn’t have a care in the world. Beside him, Helen laughed at something Karl said, her voice light and musical the same laugh I used to love hearing from across a crowded room.

And then there was Karl. My son. My little boy.

He was splashing water toward Helen, giggling as she dodged it and splashed back. The sound of his laughter should have warmed me, but instead, it hollowed me out.

He looked so happy. So comfortable.

Like she belonged there more than I ever did.

My hands trembled. I tried to steady the lens, zooming in slightly, capturing their faces, their closeness, the casual intimacy of it all. Ken leaned closer to Helen, saying something that made her blush. She nudged his arm playfully. His answering smile was one I hadn’t seen in years the kind that used to melt me.

I swallowed hard, forcing down the burn of tears. Not here. Not now.

Behind me, Ezra knelt quietly, his presence steady as ever. “You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, but my voice didn’t work. My throat was too tight.

We stayed hidden, the sound of the bubbling water masking our breathing. Time stretched painfully every second another cut, another reminder of how far I’d fallen out of Ken’s world.

Then, finally, something shifted. Helen stood up, wrapping a towel around herself. Ken’s gaze followed her instantly, his eyes trailing down her body like a man who still remembered every inch of it.

My stomach twisted.

She said something to Karl, who nodded, distracted by a toy floating nearby. Ken hesitated for all of two seconds before he got up too, leaving his son behind and following Helen toward the changing area.

Of course he did.

“Unbelievable,” I hissed under my breath. “He’s leaving Karl alone? In the water?”

“Liora—” Ezra began, but I was already moving.

I started to rise, anger and instinct colliding, but his hand shot out, firm around my wrist. “Don’t,” he whispered.

I spun to face him. “He left Karl alone—”

“I’ll watch him,” Ezra said quietly, his tone steady but commanding. “You go. Follow Ken and Helen.”

My pulse thundered. “Ezra—”

“You came for proof, not confrontation,” he reminded me. “This is your chance. Go.”

The words hit me like cold air. Proof. Evidence. Closure.

That was why I was here, wasn’t it? Not to fight. Not to scream. To end it.

I nodded once, forcing my body to move. “Okay. Keep him safe.”

“I will,” he said, and I believed him.

I slipped around the side of the rocks, keeping low. The path curved behind the springs, half-hidden by steam and shadows. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat. Every sound seemed magnified the crunch of snow underfoot, the faint trickle of water, the beating of my own pulse.

And then I heard it.

A low, breathless sound. A sigh, followed by a soft gasp.

I froze.

The air grew thick, heavy with something I didn’t want to recognize. But I knew. Deep down, I already knew.

I crept closer, my back pressed to the wooden wall of one of the private changing rooms. The sounds grew clearer muffled words, the soft rustle of fabric, the unmistakable rhythm of betrayal.

Helen’s voice came first, a whisper of laughter. “What if someone sees us?”

Ken’s answer was low, rough with desire. “I don’t care.”

I shut my eyes for a second, the world spinning beneath my feet.

“Are you afraid Liora will find out?” Helen teased, her voice husky, dripping with amusement.

There was a pause, then Ken’s voice so familiar it hurt.

“I only care about how you feel,” he murmured. “I missed this. Missed you. Missed the way we used to be.”

The words sliced clean through me.

I gripped the corner of the wall so hard my knuckles turned white. The world tilted, my lungs tight, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and heartbreak.

So this was it. The truth. The ugly, undeniable truth.

Not just suspicion. Not just intuition. Proof.

I forced myself to move. My fingers shook as I pulled out my phone, switching to video. The faint glow of the screen felt obscene in the dark, but I couldn’t stop. I angled it just enough to catch a glimpse through the narrow gap between the boards.

There they were Ken and Helen, pressed against the wall, lost in each other. The look on his face was one I used to know by heart, the kind that once belonged only to me.

Now, it was hers.

I hit record.

The seconds crawled by like hours. My breath was shallow, barely there, as the muffled sounds of their stolen intimacy filled the air. I didn’t cry. I didn’t rage. I just watched, numb, as everything I’d built my marriage, my family, my faith crumbled in front of me.

When it was enough, I ended the recording. My fingers hovered over the screen, trembling, before I locked the phone and slipped it into my coat pocket.

The wind cut through the air, sharp and cold, but I barely felt it. Inside, I was hollow. Empty.

I leaned back against the wall, staring up at the dark sky. The stars blurred together, smeared by the tears I didn’t even realize were falling.

It was over.

Truly, completely over.

For months, I’d been waiting for proof, telling myself that once I had it, I’d finally be free. But standing there, the truth pressed like ice against my heart, freedom didn’t feel like relief.

It felt like grief.

A quiet sound drew my attention a door creaking open somewhere nearby. I turned, slipping back into the shadows just as Ken and Helen emerged, laughter bubbling between them. His arm brushed hers, their movements unhurried, careless.

They didn’t even look around. Didn’t even pretend to be cautious.

That was what hurt the most. The ease of it. The normalcy.

They walked down the path, disappearing into the night. I stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot they’d vanished from, before finally forcing myself to move.

When I returned to the springs, Ezra was sitting on a rock near the water’s edge, his jacket draped around Karl’s shoulders. My son was still in the water, cheeks pink from the heat, chattering happily about something. He didn’t even notice me approach.

Ezra did.

He looked up, eyes searching mine. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t need to.

I sat down beside him, the phone heavy in my pocket. “I got it,” I said quietly. My voice barely sounded like mine.

He nodded once. “You sure you’re okay?”

I let out a small, humorless laugh. “No. But I will be.”

We sat in silence, the sound of the spring bubbling between us. The steam curled around my face, damp and warm, but I couldn’t stop shivering.

Karl splashed in the water, laughing, calling for his father who wasn’t there. My throat tightened.

Ezra followed my gaze. “He’s a good kid,” he said softly.

“He deserves better,” I whispered.

“So do you.”

I looked at him then really looked. His eyes were steady, full of something that felt like understanding. Like quiet strength. He didn’t reach for me, didn’t try to fix what couldn’t be fixed. He just sat there, beside me, until my breathing slowed.

After a while, I pulled out my phone. The screen lit up, the video thumbnail staring back at me a blurred image of Ken and Helen, frozen mid-betrayal. My heart clenched.

I pressed play for just a second, long enough to hear Ken’s voice again.

“I only care about you.”

Then I stopped it. Locked the screen. Slid the phone back into my pocket.

“I have everything I need now,” I said quietly.

Ezra nodded. “Then it’s time to decide what comes next.”

I looked out at the hot spring, at the steam drifting lazily into the cold night air. For the first time in months, I felt lighter. Not happy, not yet. But unshackled. Like a bird that had been sitting in an open cage too long, finally realizing the door was never locked.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “It’s time.”

Karl called out again, laughing as he tried to splash Ezra, who dodged with exaggerated care. The sound pulled a fragile smile from me. Maybe I couldn’t fix the past. But I could choose what came after.

I turned to Ezra, my voice soft but certain. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head. “For what?”

“For being here,” I said. “For not letting me fall apart.”

He smiled faintly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Liora. You didn’t fall you just stopped pretending you weren’t already standing.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. The silence between us said enough.

As the night deepened, I sat beside him, the camera bag at my feet, the truth in my pocket, and my heart somewhere between broken and beginning to heal.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t waiting for Ken to come back.

I was waiting for myself.