After the Divorce, I Became Untouchable

For the Best

For the Best

"What?" I nearly shouted. "How can you think that? I'm not in love with her." Even as the words left my mouth, an uncomfortable tightness squeezed my chest. Why the hell did that hurt?

"You better not be," Mom said, pulling me into a hug. "That girl has dragged you down long enough. It's time you started living again."

I stood in the driveway long after her car disappeared. My mind was in chaos. I loved Emma when we were younger. She was so fragile, pitiful and sweet. I swore to protect her even though it wasn't anything romantic.

The lover I had for her was the kind a brother would have for a sister. But clearly, she didn't see me as a brother and that was the reason she teamed up with my dad and forced me to marry her. The thought made my blood boil all over again.

Slipping out my phone from my pocket, I dialed my lawyer's number.

"Prepare the divorce papers."

When I returned to the living room, Rachael was still on the couch, looking like a lost puppy.

"What are you still doing down here? Hasn't Mrs Wilson prepared your room?"

"She has, it's just that, when I tried to stand up my..." She glanced at her ankle. Of course, how could I forget she's injured?

I scooped her up and carried her upstairs to her room. After placing her on the bed, I entered the bathroom to make sure everything was in order.

"You can take your bath now, everything is prepared."

I was almost out of the door when she called out softly.

I turned around. "What's the matter?"

She seemed hesitant to speak and started biting her nails. I couldn't contain the chuckle that bubbled out of my throat. .

I walked back and sat beside her, gently pulling her hand away from her mouth.

"So you haven't stopped this habit of yours."

Rachael laughed, and for a moment, it felt familiar. Suddenly, Emma’s face flashed in my mind. When was the last time I heard her laugh? She's always mean and concentrated.

"Daniel, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?" I answered, returning my attention to her.

"You zoned out. I was saying that you used to hate it whenever I bit my nails."

"Of course I did. You were always biting your nails every single time," I smiled, remembering the old days.

"I used to threaten to kiss you every time you bite them."

She burst into laughter again. "And you actually did. Even when we're in school. I was so shy then."

We talked about old times, her eyes were suddenly filled with tears.

"Rachael, what’s wrong?"

"Can it really be like old times again?" she whispered.

My heart stuttered. The thought of divorcing Emma suddenly felt heavier than expected. I wiped her tears away.

"Things might not return to exactly how they were before, but I promise I'll try my absolute best to love you with all my heart just like before."

She smiled through her tears.

She then mentioned she couldn’t bathe alone because of her ankle.

Right. How could I forget? Thinking of a quick solution. "Should I call Emma to help you?"

"No please, I don't think she's OK with me being here."

I took a deep breath, annoyance creeping in. "This is my house, I don't need her permission to bring anyone in."

"But she's your wife."

"And she's your step-sister. You're not a stranger." I sighed and headed to the door.

"I'll send Mrs Wilson to help you. Good night."

After sending Mrs. Wilson up, I headed straight to my home office and slumped on the chair. Today has been extremely exhausting. I reached for my coffee, but it wasn't on the usual spot. Didn't Emma bring it? That's unusual, she always makes sure my coffee is there. Maybe she forgot or she's just being petty.

Thirty minutes into working, I let out a frustrated huff. I slammed the laptop shut and marched to Emma's room.

I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Since when did she start locking it? I knocked. No answer. I knocked again, harder this time, patience was running out.

Mrs. Wilson opened the door, looking startled.

"Aren’t you supposed to be helping Rachael?" I asked, confused.

"Yes, but she dismissed me."

"And what are you doing here?"

"I asked her to bring my dinner." Emma suddenly appeared behind her. "You can go now, Mrs. Wilson."

"What are you doing here?" She asked the moment Mrs. Wilson left.

She looks pale and exhausted, her hair messy. She looked… sick.

"If you have nothing to say, leave. I want to sleep," she said coldly.

I pushed past her into the room. "You seem to be forgetting this is also my room."

She looked pissed, like I'd said something wrong. "And when was the last time you actually slept here?"

I shrugged and dropped onto the bed. "Doesn’t matter. I’m sleeping here tonight."

If I think she was pissed before, now she's definitely angry. Seeing another expression on her face other than the usual meek and composed one seemed to be stirring something inside me. I want to see all those expressions not the usual calm ones. Before I could provoke her further, she cut me off.

"Do you think Rachael will be happy if she finds out you're going to sleep here?" I knew she was trying to annoy me, so I relaxed more into bed.

"Well, it's none of her business."

"I think it is, you have promised to marry her right after you divorce me. Sleeping with your ex-wife while your lover is in the next room. Do you think it's right?"

" We aren't divorced yet."

My phone chimed, it was a message from the lawyer. My mood soured immediately. I stood up and left without another word. The door slammed shut behind me with a loud bang.

I paused. Just now Emma was acting suspicious. She used to beg me to sleep in our room, now she couldn't even wait for me to leave.

Thinking of it, I didn't see any food inside the room, but she said Mrs. Wilson brought dinner to her. Before I could think further, my phone started ringing.

Seeing it was the lawyer calling, I headed to the study.

"What is it?" I answered, settling into my chair. I absentmindedly reached for my coffee again. It wasn't there, of course, and I totally forgot to ask Emma about it.

"Sir, are you there?"

"Yes, why are you calling me by this time when you could have sent a message?"

"I said that I've prepared the divorce papers. Should I bring it over tomorrow?"

I paused. How could he prepare it so fast? I had just instructed him this evening.

"I'll go through it first," I answered, and cut the call.

Looking at the documents, I suddenly felt a split of headache. My heart skipped a bit on seeing my name and Emma's on the divorce paper. This is for the best, I dialed the lawyer's number.

"Yes sir."

"Print them. Bring them over first thing tomorrow morning."