**Mira's POV — Friday Morning, Courthouse**
The divorce finalization took eleven minutes.
No drama. No arguments. Just Patricia, the clerk, and a judge signing papers.
"Dr. Whitmore, Mr. Ravencrest is not contesting any terms?"
"No, Your Honor."
"And both parties agree to the custody arrangement pending the review hearing next week?"
"Yes."
The judge signed. Stamped. Slid the papers across the desk.
"Congratulations. You're divorced."
That was it. Five years of marriage. Months of fighting. All of it reduced to eleven minutes and a signature.
Mira walked out of the courthouse into bright October sun, holding the papers.
Officially divorced. Officially free.
And then it hit.
The mate bond—barely there for weeks—snapped.
Not gently. Not gradually.
