Chapter 1
Rowena's POV:
Three days ago, I asked Alistair to take out the trash. It still hung in the kitchen.
The stench was overwhelming, flies buzzing furiously around the bin.
I knew it then; we were done.
That evening, I slid the divorce papers I had drafted onto the desk in front of him.
He looked up from his computer screen, his gaze drilling into me like he could read my very thoughts.
"The day before yesterday, I was helping Corisande correct her data models. She is a beginner, and the only senior colleague she can turn to is me.
"Yesterday, she was followed on her walk home. She was terrified, crying on the phone, begging me to escort her back just that once.
"Today, her dataset had critical errors with only three hours left before submission. She is on my team, and I could not simply leave her hanging.
"I know you have always harbored suspicions about her. I can hand you my phone, pull the office security footage, anything to prove we are entirely innocent.
"As for that bag of trash, I genuinely forgot it. Now that I have laid everything out, if you still insist on a divorce, I will cooperate, Rowena."
I looked at him calmly, my expression as placid as still water.
Over the course of those three days, he had moved mountains for Corisande.
He, a man who lived by an uncompromising daily schedule, had stayed up late three nights in a row for her sake.
Yet three mornings in a row, he had failed to grab a single bag of refuse on his way out the front door.
I gave a slow nod.
"Let us just get divorced."
*****
I waited at the family registry office until the clerks began shuttering the counters. Alistair never showed.
He arrived back at the house at eleven that night.
He saw me sitting on the living room sofa, offered not a single word of greeting, and walked straight into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.
I spoke into the quiet room, "I called thirteen times. You never picked up."
He paused mid-sip, retrieved his phone from his pocket, his face utterly blank.
"In meetings all day. Switched the device off and never turned it back on. Was there something urgent?" His tone was completely flat, as though he were merely commenting on an overcast sky.
I knew it. He had forgotten our appointment entirely.
He was always remarkably forgetful when it came to me.
Across seven years of marriage, this pattern has repeated itself countless times.
Small things, like asking him to bring in the damp laundry when rain clouds rolled in, or carrying the rubbish down to the curb.
Monumental things, like when I was three months pregnant.
The prenatal screening results were grim. The obstetrician strongly advised terminating the pregnancy.
We scheduled the surgical procedure together.
Yet by the time the procedure was over, and the anesthesia wore off, he still had not arrived at the clinic.
It was only much later that I uncovered the reason.
That very afternoon, Corisande was leading her first project presentation, and her nerves were tearing her apart.
He had promised her he would be right there in the conference room, standing by her side, serving as her steady pillar.
That was the moment I finally understood that I held no weight whatsoever in Alistair's heart.
The realization had scraped across my chest like a toy blade, stinging slightly, but lacking the sharpness to inflict a fatal wound.
I set the memory aside and answered him with gentle composure.
"We were scheduled to sign the paperwork at the family registry today. Tomorrow is the weekend, and all available appointment slots are full. I rescheduled us for Monday morning."
Alistair was already absorbed in his phone, his eyes glued to the bright screen, not bothering to spare me a glance.
"Understood. See you at the registry on Monday."
I nodded.
*****
Monday arrived.
Alistair and I signed the initial dissolution agreement.
Under the statutory cooling-off period, we would only need to return to the registry in thirty days to finalize the decree and collect the formal certificates.
The moment the ink dried on his signature, Alistair was already hunched over his phone, his thumbs flying in a rapid succession of replies.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a pastel anime avatar on his display, sending an unbroken stream of tearful emojis.
As we stepped through the tall glass doors of the building into the cool morning air, Alistair turned to me.
"An urgent issue just came up at the firm. I will not be able to offer you a ride home..."
I gave a polite nod, gesturing toward the cab that had already pulled up against the curb.
"My car is already here. Go on ahead."
The cab had stopped right beside his vehicle. I pulled the passenger door open and settled into the seat.
I did not look back once at Alistair standing on the pavement.
