My Ex-Wife Saved Me

The Dreaded Divorce

Shammah stood in the dining room, staring at the brown envelope on the table. Her hands were shaking, but she kept them pressed flat against her sides so no one would see.

David sat across from her, looking like a stranger. His grey eyes were cold, his expensive black suit was perfectly pressed, he didn't look at her when he spoke.

"Sit down," he said.

Shammah sat. Her legs felt weak.

David opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. He spread them across the table like he was showing her a business report, not ending their marriage.

At the top of the first page, she saw the words: PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.

Divorce papers.

The room tilted. Shammah gripped the edge of the table.

"My grandfather passed away three months ago," David said. His voice was flat, like he was reading from a script. "The terms of our arrangement are fulfilled. There's no reason for this to continue."

Shammah's throat felt tight. She wanted to say something, but the words stuck.

Behind David, standing in the doorway with a small, perfect smile, was Ivy Bobby. She wore a red dress that clung to her body like paint. Her hand rested on the doorframe, and she watched Shammah the way a cat watches a mouse.

Shammah's mind flashed back to three years ago.

She had been in her tiny apartment, studying for an exam, when Margaret Khai showed up at her door. Margaret was tall, elegant, and terrifying. She had two bodyguards with her and a wedding dress in a plastic bag.

"Your sister was supposed to marry my son today," Margaret said. "But she ran away. So you'll take her place."

Shammah shook her head. "I can't. I have school. I have—"

"Your mother owes a lot of money to very dangerous people," Margaret interrupted. "If you don't marry David today, those people will hurt her. Maybe worse."

Shammah's whole body went cold.

Margaret held up a folder. Inside were papers showing debts Shammah didn't even know existed. Her mother had borrowed money to pay for Nora's lifestyle; credit cards, designer clothes, expensive trips. The debt was massive.

"Marry my son," Margaret said. "And I'll make all of this disappear."

Shammah looked at the wedding dress, she looked at the debt papers, she thought about her mother, who worked three jobs just to keep them fed.

She said yes.

The wedding was the coldest day of her life. David barely looked at her. When the priest said he could kiss the bride, David leaned in, touched the corner of her mouth for half a second, and pulled away like she had burned him.

That night, he didn't come to their bedroom. He stayed in his office until morning.

For three years, Shammah tried to make him see her. She cooked his favorite meals, she left notes in his briefcase, she waited for him at night, even though he never came home, but David never noticed.

"I've been more than fair," David said, pushing a paper toward her.

Shammah looked down. The number on the page made her eyes blur.

Two million dollars.

"You'll receive this payment," David continued. "Your mother's debts will stay cleared. You'll sign a non-disclosure agreement and never speak about this marriage or the Khai family to anyone."

Shammah's hand moved to her stomach. She was eight weeks pregnant. She had found out last night and had practiced all morning how to tell him.

David, I have something to tell you. We're going to have a baby.

But now, looking at the divorce papers, looking at Ivy's smug smile in the doorway, Shammah knew the truth.

David would never see her. He never wanted to.

"David," she whispered. "I need to tell you something."

"There's nothing to tell," he said. His voice didn't rise, it didn't need to. The coldness in it cut through her like a knife. "This was a business arrangement, Shammah. You knew that from the beginning."

"But I—"

"Sign the papers."

Ivy walked into the room. She moved like she owned the space. She stood behind David and placed her hand on his shoulder. David didn't push her away, he didn't even flinch.

Ivy looked at Shammah with sharp, painted eyes. "Take the deal, sweetheart," she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "It's more than someone like you deserves."

Something inside Shammah cracked.

For three years, she had hoped, she had waited, she had convinced herself that underneath his coldness, David had a heart that might one day beat for her.

But she was wrong.

If she told him about the baby now, what would happen? He would think she was lying to trap him. Or worse, he would take the baby from her. A Khai heir, raised in this cold mansion by Margaret?

Never.

Shammah picked up the pen. Her hand was steady. She wouldn't let it shake.

She signed every page.

David watched her sign. For one second, just one, something flickered in his eyes. It was gone before Shammah could name it.

He gathered the papers and stood up. "A car will take you wherever you want to go," he said. "Please be out by tonight."

He walked away. Ivy followed him, but at the door, she turned back. She gave Shammah one last look, a look of victory so smug it was almost a laugh.

Then they were gone.

The room was silent. The house was empty.

Shammah sat at the table for a long time. She didn't cry, she was past crying.

She placed both hands on her stomach and whispered to the tiny life inside her. "It's just you and me now, and I swear, I'll become someone. I'll become so much that one day, he'll regret this moment for the rest of his life."

She stood up, walked upstairs and packed a small bag; her clothes, her medical books, and a photograph of Victor, the only person in this house who had ever been kind to her.

As she zipped the bag closed, her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

You made the right choice. Some secrets are better left buried.



Shammah's blood ran cold. She stared at the message. Who sent this? What secrets?