Chapter 1 · Divorce Papers

On our eighth wedding anniversary, Kamari Larson, my husband, gave me a puppy.

Three days after I was wheeled out of the ICU, I handed him divorce papers.

His mistress, Laurel Harris, clutched my hand, sobbing as she explained, "Mrs. Larson, this is all my fault. I acted on my own. Please don't be angry with Mr. Larson over something so trivial."

My husband gently wiped away her tears, then frowned at me.

"Stop being childish," he said. "You're already thirty. Why are you picking a fight with a young lady?"

I looked at the man and woman clinging tightly to each other, turned around, and boarded a flight overseas.

When I saw Kamari again, a month had already passed.

*****

Once I got home, Kamari Larson was sitting on the couch with a deep frown.

The table was covered in dust, and the potted plants in the living room had completely died.

He said, "Storming out like that? Do you really think you're still a teenager? If I hadn't come back, were you planning to stay out there all night? You're thirty, you know."

I'd spent a month abroad, and Kamari only noticed today.

He assumed I was acting out for attention, still lecturing me on my age as if growing older erased my right to be impulsive.

But I was no longer the Nicole who lived for him.

I didn't answer. I just kept packing.

Kamari scoffed, tossing a box at me like he was doing me a favor.

"Alright, Laurel didn't mean anything by it. If you don't like the dog, fine. Here, I'll get you something else. Maybe this will please you."

Inside was a diamond necklace, one of those trendy styles he clearly grabbed at random just to placate me.

Back when we were newlyweds, he'd painstakingly pick out gifts just for me.

Now, he snatched something off the shelf to brush me off.

I didn't even look at it, continuing to pack. "When can we get this divorce over with? The sooner, the better."

After all, Kamari was so preoccupied he couldn't even pick an anniversary gift himself. He relied on his mistress for that. If we were divorcing, I'd just have to work around his schedule.

He rubbed his nose, convinced I was still holding a grudge.

"It was just a puppy. Laurel had no idea you hated dogs. Are you seriously still upset over something so trivial? A month's gone by, and you're still hung up on it?"

Laurel, five years younger than Kamari, had followed him since childhood. After graduation, she joined his company as his assistant.

They were inseparable. Everyone called them the golden pair.

I used to confront Kamari, only to hear, "You're overthinking it. I just see her as a little sister."

But what kind of "sister" shared hotel rooms on business trips and could summon you with a single call anytime, anywhere?

Eventually, I realized that if Kamari hadn't allowed things to be this way, none of these rumors would've ever started.

Kamari was the one who opened the door for Laurel.

When I stayed silent, he assumed I'd let it go and asked about Robert's parent-teacher conference.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Robert was seven now, and I had never once attended a parent-teacher meeting.

The last time I saw him was a month and a half ago.

After his birth, the Larson family took him, claiming he had to be raised as their heir, free from my "ordinary" influence.

I cried. I begged. I even knelt before them, but it was all futile.

I only got to see him a few times a year, so he barely knew me as his mother.

Kamari's voice sharpened with annoyance.

"Forget it. I'll ask Laurel. Maybe if you spent less time running off and more time thinking about Robert, he wouldn't cling to Laurel instead of his own mother."

Of course, Robert stuck to Laurel like glue.

I couldn't even drop by at will, yet Laurel came and went freely.

The Larsons would have handed Robert to her without hesitation if they could.

I forced a smile. "Fine, let's get divorced. Then Laurel can officially take my place as Robert's mom, just like everyone wants."

Kamari slammed his glass down, cold as ice.

"Nicole, stop stirring things up. Don't expect me to comfort you. Being dramatic at thirty is annoying enough. Besides, you're pregnant. Are you seriously thinking about..."

I cut him off. "It's gone."

Chapter 1

On our eighth wedding anniversary, Kamari Larson, my husband, gave me a puppy.

Three days after I was wheeled out of the ICU, I handed him divorce papers.

His mistress, Laurel Harris, clutched my hand, sobbing as she explained, "Mrs. Larson, this is all my fault. I acted on my own. Please don't be angry with Mr. Larson over something so trivial."

My husband gently wiped away her tears, then frowned at me.

"Stop being childish," he said. "You're already thirty. Why are you picking a fight with a young lady?"

I looked at the man and woman clinging tightly to each other, turned around, and boarded a flight overseas.

When I saw Kamari again, a month had already passed.

*****

Once I got home, Kamari Larson was sitting on the couch with a deep frown.

The table was covered in dust, and the potted plants in the living room had completely died.

He said, "Storming out like that? Do you really think you're still a teenager? If I hadn't come back, were you planning to stay out there all night? You're thirty, you know."

I'd spent a month abroad, and Kamari only noticed today.

He assumed I was acting out for attention, still lecturing me on my age as if growing older erased my right to be impulsive.

But I was no longer the Nicole who lived for him.

I didn't answer. I just kept packing.

Kamari scoffed, tossing a box at me like he was doing me a favor.

"Alright, Laurel didn't mean anything by it. If you don't like the dog, fine. Here, I'll get you something else. Maybe this will please you."

Inside was a diamond necklace, one of those trendy styles he clearly grabbed at random just to placate me.

Back when we were newlyweds, he'd painstakingly pick out gifts just for me.

Now, he snatched something off the shelf to brush me off.

I didn't even look at it, continuing to pack. "When can we get this divorce over with? The sooner, the better."

After all, Kamari was so preoccupied he couldn't even pick an anniversary gift himself. He relied on his mistress for that. If we were divorcing, I'd just have to work around his schedule.

He rubbed his nose, convinced I was still holding a grudge.

"It was just a puppy. Laurel had no idea you hated dogs. Are you seriously still upset over something so trivial? A month's gone by, and you're still hung up on it?"

Laurel, five years younger than Kamari, had followed him since childhood. After graduation, she joined his company as his assistant.

They were inseparable. Everyone called them the golden pair.

I used to confront Kamari, only to hear, "You're overthinking it. I just see her as a little sister."

But what kind of "sister" shared hotel rooms on business trips and could summon you with a single call anytime, anywhere?

Eventually, I realized that if Kamari hadn't allowed things to be this way, none of these rumors would've ever started.

Kamari was the one who opened the door for Laurel.

When I stayed silent, he assumed I'd let it go and asked about Robert's parent-teacher conference.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Robert was seven now, and I had never once attended a parent-teacher meeting.

The last time I saw him was a month and a half ago.

After his birth, the Larson family took him, claiming he had to be raised as their heir, free from my "ordinary" influence.

I cried. I begged. I even knelt before them, but it was all futile.

I only got to see him a few times a year, so he barely knew me as his mother.

Kamari's voice sharpened with annoyance.

"Forget it. I'll ask Laurel. Maybe if you spent less time running off and more time thinking about Robert, he wouldn't cling to Laurel instead of his own mother."

Of course, Robert stuck to Laurel like glue.

I couldn't even drop by at will, yet Laurel came and went freely.

The Larsons would have handed Robert to her without hesitation if they could.

I forced a smile. "Fine, let's get divorced. Then Laurel can officially take my place as Robert's mom, just like everyone wants."

Kamari slammed his glass down, cold as ice.

"Nicole, stop stirring things up. Don't expect me to comfort you. Being dramatic at thirty is annoying enough. Besides, you're pregnant. Are you seriously thinking about..."

I cut him off. "It's gone."