You Broke Me First

Chapter 8

The divorce didn't happen.

Not that week.

Not the week after.

And not the week after that.

What should have been a simple process quickly became a long, exhausting battle.

Every time Kaycee's lawyer submitted something, Ethan's lawyer responded.

Every time Kaycee expected a date to be finalized, another delay appeared.

Ethan wasn't refusing outright.

He was simply making the process as slow as possible.

Kaycee knew exactly what he was doing.

He didn't want the divorce.

And apparently, he was willing to drag it out for as long as he could.

One afternoon, Kaycee sat across from her lawyer, calmly reading through another set of documents.

Her lawyer sighed.

"They've requested another extension."

Kaycee turned a page.

"Again?"

"Yes."

"Reason?"

"Mr. Morales wants additional time to review the financial arrangements."

Kaycee gave a quiet laugh.

"He's had weeks."

"I know."

She closed the folder.

"Then give them another week."

Her lawyer looked surprised.

"You're not angry?"

Kaycee shook her head.

"No."

"But this could continue for months."

"Then let it."

She leaned back in her chair.

"I'm not going back to him."

Her lawyer nodded.

"What about the assets?"

"Everything that belongs to me stays mine."

"And the estate?"

Kaycee shook her head.

"I don't want anything that belongs to Ethan."

She paused.

"Except what was legally mine before the marriage."

Her lawyer smiled slightly.

"Understood."

Kaycee stood.

"I don't care how long he takes."

She picked up her handbag.

"I've already waited five years."

Meanwhile, Ethan sat in his office staring at the latest divorce documents.

He hadn't signed them.

Again.

His lawyer stood across from his desk.

"Mr. Morales, delaying this won't make her change her mind."

Ethan's expression remained cold.

"I know."

"Then why continue?"

Ethan didn't answer.

Because he didn't know how to explain it.

Every time he looked at those papers, he saw the same thing.

An ending.

A finality he wasn't ready to accept.

Five years ago, he had been certain Kaycee would always be there.

Even when he pushed her away.

Even when he believed Isabella.

Some part of him had assumed Kaycee would eventually forgive him.

He had been wrong.

Now she didn't even seem angry.

She simply wanted out.

And somehow, that hurt more.

His lawyer sighed.

"She isn't going to change her mind."

Ethan looked down at the papers.

"Leave."

The lawyer hesitated before leaving the room.

Ethan remained alone.

His phone buzzed.

A message from Isabella.

Are you coming home tonight?

He stared at it.

Then locked his phone without replying.

For the first time, he didn't know what he wanted.

Weeks turned into months.

The divorce remained unfinished.

Kaycee continued living in her apartment, building a life completely separate from the Morales family.

She returned to painting.

Quietly.

Privately.

No one knew.

Not Ethan.

Not Isabella.

Not the public.

Dawn was still a secret.

And every night, Kaycee stood in front of her canvases and painted until the memories became quieter.

Meanwhile, Ethan continued finding excuses to delay the divorce.

But something had changed.

Kaycee had stopped waiting.

She stopped checking for updates.

Stopped asking her lawyer when Ethan would sign.

Stopped caring.

The longer the divorce dragged on, the more independent she became.

And Ethan slowly realized that every day he delayed the divorce wasn't bringing Kaycee closer.

It was giving her more time to learn how to live without him.

One evening, Kaycee received a call from her lawyer.

"There's another development."

Kaycee looked up from her painting.

"What now?"

"He wants to meet you personally."

She sighed.

"Of course he does."

"Will you?"

Kaycee looked at the unfinished painting in front of her.

Then she smiled faintly.

"Yes."

Her lawyer sounded surprised.

"Are you sure?"

Kaycee dipped her brush into the paint.

"Absolutely."

Because if Ethan wanted to drag the divorce into a war—

Then perhaps it was time he learned that Kaycee Reed wasn't afraid of him anymore.

Not after surviving five years without him.

Not after rebuilding herself.

And certainly not now.