Chasing His Divorced Wife And His Child

NADIA’S POV “Sign here, here, and initial here.” Colin’s voice was as cold as the glass table between us, like he was closing a business deal rather than ending our marriage. I watched his manicured finger tap each yellow tab marking where my signature would dissolve three years of my life into nothing. I should have felt something. Rage, maybe. Devastation. The kind of emotion that matched the moment. Instead, I felt hollow, like someone had scooped everything out of me and left only the outline of who I used to be. “Nadia? Did you hear me?” I blinked, focusing on his face. Colin looked impeccable as always, his suit perfectly tailored, his posture straight, his expression untouched. His jaw was tight with impatience, and he glanced at his watch like this was taking longer than expected. “I heard you.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. I picked up the pen he had placed in the center of the folder. It was heavy, expensive, the kind of thing that existed just to remind you of the world you were in. Everything around Colin was polished, precise, controlled. Meaningless. The first signature went down easily. Nadia Bush Wells. Soon to be just Nadia Bush again. I had taken his name because I thought it meant something, like we were building something real together. What a mistake. “The settlement is generous,” Colin said, flipping through the pages like this conversation bored him. “More than fair, considering the prenup. My lawyers suggested less.” Of course they did. “Thank you,” I said, signing the second page. My handwriting looked slightly uneven against the clean, confident print. “You’ll retain access to the penthouse until you find somewhere suitable,” he continued. “Within reason. A month should be sufficient.” A month, to pack up three years. To erase myself from a place that never felt like home. I signed the third page, then the fourth. The pen scratched against paper, each stroke taking something with it. My eyes drifted briefly to the window behind him. The city stretched out beyond it, loud and alive, untouched by what was happening in this room. I used to stand there at night, waiting for him, watching the lights flicker on one by one, convincing myself he would come home early. He never did. “Nadia.” Something in his tone made me look up. For a second, just a second, I thought I saw something in his eyes. Not regret, not even hesitation. Just… something. Then it was gone. “I want you to understand this isn’t personal.” The laugh slipped out before I could stop it. It sounded sharp in the quiet room. “Not personal?” I repeated. “Colin, we’re married. We took vows. How is this not personal?” He looked at me like I was complicating something simple. “We both know this hasn’t been working,” he said calmly. “It’s better to end it cleanly than drag it out indefinitely. I thought you’d appreciate the efficiency.” Efficiency. He was describing our marriage like a failed contract. I looked back down at the papers, at the last places I still needed to sign. The settlement really was generous. Enough to start over, to rebuild. More than I had when I came into this marriage. Like he had calculated exactly what my three years were worth. “Did you ever for once love me?” The question came out before I could stop it. I hadn’t meant to ask. There was no point. But some part of me needed to know if any of it had been real. Colin didn’t hesitate. He set the papers down and met my eyes. “I married you.” My chest tightened. “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only one I have.” He checked his watch again. “Nadia, I need to leave soon. If you could finish—” “I’m done.” I signed the last pages quickly, not bothering to read anything else. I didn’t care about the money, the apartment, any of it. I just wanted out of this office, out of this building, out of this life that had slowly worn me down. I closed the folder and slid it across the table. Our fingers didn’t touch. They hadn’t touched in months, except for those rare nights when he came home late and tired and just present enough to remember I existed. Those nights when he held me like I mattered, like I was the only thing in the room. Just long enough to make me believe it. Then morning came, and he was gone again. Colin flipped through the pages, making sure everything was signed. Satisfied, he stood and extended his hand like we had just concluded a successful negotiation. “Thank you for being reasonable about this.” I stared at his outstretched hand. Three years ago, that same hand had slipped a ring onto my finger while he promised me forever. Now it waited to shake mine. I stood without taking it. “Goodbye, Colin.” I turned and walked toward the door, each step feeling lighter. I was almost at the threshold when his voice stopped me. “Nadia, one more thing.” I paused. For just a moment, I let myself hope. That he’d say something different. That he’d realized what he was letting go. That the man I fell in love with was still in there somewhere. I turned back. He didn’t hesitate. “Make sure you leave your access card at the front desk on your way out.”