CHASING THE UNWANTED WIFE

7 - Divorce

“If you hadn’t climbed into my bed after you drugged me, my woman—the one I love and cherished—wouldn’t have left me. Isolde and I could still be happy now—maybe even married, with beautiful children. But you destroyed our lives. You’re wicked, Callista. Selfish and manipulative. And I will hate you for the rest of my life.”

The words 'not true' burned in her throat, desperate to be screamed.

She had crawled into his bed, yes.

But she did not drug him.

She had told him over and over again that she didn’t know who had drugged him.

But he wouldn’t listen, shutting his ears to every word she said.

He was so convinced that no other woman could have done it but her.

In his eyes, she was vicious and the kind of woman who would do anything to get what she wanted.

Her only mistake was failing to resist when the marriage was arranged and going along with it simply because she was so in love.

And the moment she said ‘I do,’ her marriage to Theron became the beginning of an endless hell.

“You’re free to hate me as much as you want.” A sad smile tugged at her lips, while the weariness in her eyes gave away how much everything had taken out of her. She never knew that loving someone one-sidedly could wear her heart so thin.

Unrequited love was a thorn that slowly dug deeper into her.

For the longest time, Callista had believed that if she just stayed by her husband’s side, supported him, and played the role of a devoted wife, he would eventually learn to love her back. But he never did. After sixty long months—two hundred sixty agonizing weeks—his hatred for her remained as strong as it had been on the day they exchanged vows.

Vows that had meant nothing to him.

She could still remember how he had forcefully spat out the words through gritted teeth—in front of the officiant, in front of the guests, and before her very eyes.

“I don’t want you to be my wife anymore,” he growled, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“I know, Theron. I know. Get up first. Let me take care of the swelling and bruises on your knuckles.” Callista tried to help him, but he only pushed her away—again. Losing her balance, she fell, her hand landing on the broken whisky bottle.

A small cry escaped her lips as the pain hit.

Theron stood up and looked down at her, his gaze devoid of pity. His eyes that seemed to enjoy seeing her hurt told her she deserved it.

Callista bit down on her lower lip as hard as she could, trying to force the sobs back, until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Looking down at the wound on her palm, she watched a drop of blood fall to the floor. Even as her voice broke, she managed to show a small smile and said, “Just a small cut. Don’t worry.”

“Hah!” A mocking scoff followed. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I am not worried.”

Her throat tightened, a burning sensation coursing through it.

“Do you know what today is?” he asked, his tone icy.

Callista stared at her husband, unable to understand right away what he meant.

“Today is the day—five years ago—when I confessed my feelings to Isolde. My feelings for her were pure… but you destroyed it. Are you happy knowing you’ve made me so hopeless?” Theron was consumed by grief over a love he had once held close but lost.

The ache gnawing at Callista’s heart became too heavy to bear. She dared not open her mouth, afraid that a cry might slip out.

Theron spoke again, his tone hard with finality as he uttered each word with cruel emphasis.

“Let’s divorce, Callista.”

_____

THERON wanted to end their marriage.

Callista’s mind was consumed by this single, unending echo. ‘Divorce.’

Her husband really wanted to divorce her. He could no longer stand having her presence in his life.

She tensed her injured hand. Blood continued to drip onto the floor, but she no longer cared. For no physical pain was worse than the one she felt when he asked to end their years of being together as husband and wife—even though he never saw and treated her as a real and proper Mrs. De Santis. Because even if this was the case, her heart still belonged to no one but him. Stubbornly, it wanted to belong to him.

Sometimes, she wished she could just fall asleep and wake up to a new beginning—one where her heart no longer longed for him. Loving Theron had brought her great pain, and it was slowly killing her, consuming even the last ounce of herself that was left. She wished it were easy to forget him, to erase him from her memory completely, and to no longer recognize him.

But it wasn’t easy, not when her heart persistently cried out for him, desperately hoping he would notice her, even just once… even a little bit.

If Theron could show her even a fraction of the affection he had once given Isolde, Callista would consider herself the happiest woman alive. But some things were simply impossible. Some dreams were never meant to come true. Her husband’s heart would never be hers—not in this life, and maybe not even in the next, if such a thing existed.

“Are you deaf, or do you just want to pretend you didn't hear what I said?” Theron asked, his voice low and cutting, every word edged with anger.

She flinched. “I heard you… I’m sorry,” she said weakly, softly.

“I don’t need your sorry. I need your signature on the divorce papers when I throw them in your face.”