After Divorce: No Second Chances

Scarlett moved quietly through the kitchen, her hands working with practiced gentleness as she plated the dishes she had spent the entire afternoon preparing. They were Elijah’s favorites—every single one of them—recipes she had memorized, perfected, and poured her heart into over the last five years of their marriage. Five years… and still no child. She placed the last bowl onto the dining table, arranging everything neatly. Just as she wiped her hands on her apron, she heard the front door open. Her face lit up instantly, her heart fluttering with that familiar mixture of hope and anxiety. Maybe today would be different. Maybe he would finally smile at her. She hurried out of the kitchen. But the smile on her lips froze—not Elijah. It was Hazel, her mother-in-law. “Mom?” Scarlett swallowed, forcing politeness into her voice. “What brings you here?” Hazel lifted a brow, not bothering to hide her irritation. She brushed past Scarlett toward the living room as if she owned the place. “Where is Elijah?” she demanded, ignoring Scarlett’s question entirely. “He… hasn’t come home yet,” Scarlett answered softly. Hazel clicked her tongue and sank into the sofa. “I suppose my son is getting tired of you. No wonder he comes home late all the time.” Her voice sharpened. “Why can’t you be more like your cousin, Camila? She’s brilliant at business. If I had known you were going to be useless to my son, I would’ve pushed him to marry her instead.” The words hit like stones, each one sharper than the last. Scarlett bit down on her lip and lowered her head. She had no strength to defend herself—not when Hazel was attacking her with the same old truths. She knew she wasn’t as accomplished as Camila. She knew she didn’t have a company anymore. She knew she had nothing left except Elijah. “Go make me coffee,” Hazel added dismissively. “At least try to be useful.” Scarlett nodded quickly, retreating to the kitchen before Hazel could say anything worse. The moment she turned away, her eyes stung. She wiped her tears fast—Hazel must never see her break—and took a deep breath before preparing the coffee. When she walked out and handed the cup over, Hazel took a sip—and instantly spat it out onto the center table. “What is this?” Hazel glared at her with disgust. “Is this the kind of coffee you feed my son? Even the maids are more competent than you. You stay home all day and yet you can’t do simple things properly. Why don’t you look for a job so at least you can contribute to the bills? My son carries everything on his shoulders.” Scarlett pressed her lips together, accepting every word like a punishment she deserved. She said nothing. She never did. Moments later, the front door opened again. Footsteps echoed across the floor. Elijah was finally home. Scarlett immediately moved to greet him, taking his bag and suit jacket before he even looked up. Hazel rolled her eyes at the display. “What are you doing here, Mom?” Elijah asked, sounding drained, distracted. He didn’t spare a single glance at his wife. Scarlett quietly hung his suit and placed his bag on the sofa, careful and quick. Hazel stood and appraised her son’s face. “Are you being fed properly? You look like you’ve lost weight. Are her meals not good enough for you?” Scarlett stayed silent. Elijah eyed nothing but the floor as he sank into the sofa with a weary sigh. Hazel shot Scarlett a sharp look. “Well? What are you standing there for? Get him water!” Scarlett nodded, hurried back to the kitchen, and returned with a glass. But Hazel snatched it from her hands before she could offer it. “I’ll give it to him,” Hazel muttered. “You might drop it.” Scarlett lowered her head, swallowing every humiliation silently. Elijah took a sip and frowned suddenly. His gaze shifted to the center table—still stained from Hazel’s earlier outburst. “Why is the center table wet? Didn’t you clean up?” he asked Scarlett coldly. Scarlett opened her mouth, hesitating. She looked briefly toward Hazel, who crossed her arms and huffed. “I spilled my coffee,” Hazel announced before Scarlett could speak. “I only asked her to make me a cup and she served me something bitter enough to kill me.” Elijah’s eyes hardened. “Scarlett, my mother only asked for coffee. How can you not even manage that?” The ache in Scarlett’s chest tightened. She bowed her head again, her fingers curling into the fabric of her apron. Hazel wasn’t done. “Why don’t you just divorce her, Elijah? You two don’t even have a child. It’s not like you’re tied to her. I’m sure Camila would be far more useful than this girl. What has she ever contributed to you? Nothing.” Scarlett’s throat burned. The worst part was that she couldn’t argue. Everything Hazel said felt painfully true. After losing her parents, she had lost everything—her inheritance, her company, even her confidence. She had talent, yes, but talent didn’t matter when compared to the cold realities of business. “Mom, I’m tired. Please go home,” Elijah finally said, his voice flat. Hazel sighed dramatically and threw another glare toward Scarlett before leaving. Scarlett tried to steady her breathing. When the door finally closed, she approached Elijah with a hopeful smile. “I cooked dinner, love. Should we eat together? Afterward, I can prepare your hot shower.” Elijah stood, picking up his bag again. “I already ate at the office. I’m going to rest. Just prepare my bath.” Her smile faltered. She nodded faintly. “Of course.” She walked into their bedroom to get things ready. Her heart felt heavier than usual, her throat tight, but she moved with gentle precision, filling the bathtub with warm water, sprinkling rose petals across its surface. “It’s ready,” she said softly when Elijah entered the bathroom. He didn’t reply, simply closed the door behind him and stepped inside. Scarlett prepared his clothes for after his bath, then quietly went downstairs to eat. The food on the table was cold, but she didn’t bother reheating it. Her appetite was gone anyway. “Have you eaten?” she asked the housemaids. “Not yet, ma’am,” one of them replied. “I see. Please eat this then. Elijah already ate.” She forced herself to eat a few bites before giving the rest to the maids, then returned upstairs. Elijah was still in the bath. She gathered her pajamas and eventually entered the bathroom—only to find Elijah’s eyes snapping open at her presence. “What are you doing?” he asked stiffly. Scarlett smiled gently and reached out to massage his hands. “Do you want—” “I’m tired, Scarlett. Not tonight.” His voice cut like ice. “Please leave. I want to be alone. Shower later, after me.” Her heart sank. Still, she nodded and stepped out quietly. She sat on the bed, fingers trembling. She wanted to be close to him tonight. She wanted warmth, affection, something—anything—that reminded her she was still his wife. But Elijah had grown colder… colder than ever. And deep inside her chest, a fear she had long ignored whispered again: Maybe this was all because she still wasn’t pregnant. Maybe Elijah was already losing patience. Maybe he was giving up on her. Maybe… he already had.