Doctor's Orders: File for Divorce

Synopsis

On our third wedding anniversary, Edward Hawthorne didn't come home. I called him 32 times, but every call went unanswered. At midnight, his assistant finally sent me a cold text: [Mr. Hawthorne is with an important guest. Mrs. Hawthorne, please go to sleep early.] I knew who that "important guest" was: Olivia Lane, the one Edward broke up with six years ago. But she remained the woman he could never forget, and she was back. The next morning, I walked into the living room with a bowl of hangover soup for Edward, and I froze. On the couch, Edward was looking down at a little boy who was maybe five years old. The kid was the spitting image of him, with delicate features. He curled up in Edward's arms, sleeping peacefully. Olivia was dressed in my silk nightgown; her hair was slightly tousled. With a hint of exhaustion and satisfaction in her smile, she was quietly tucking a blanket around the child. The three of them looked like a cozy, tranquil scene out of a painting. And I, the real Mrs. Hawthorne, stood there like an intruder, looking out of place and ridiculous. "You're up?" Edward looked up at me. There was no trace of guilt in his eyes, only impatience at being disturbed. "Keep your voice down. Lucas kept me up all night and only fell asleep not long ago." The boy was Lucas Hawthorne. Olivia walked over, elegantly taking the tray from my hands. Her voice was gentle, as if she were explaining to an ignorant younger sister. "Evelyn, don't blame Edward. Lucas suffers from severe insomnia. He can only sleep soundly when Edward's around. We've got no options." She paused and added as if unintentionally, "Lucas was named by Edward. Edward said he decided to accept this child because he still couldn't move on from the past." My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold hand; the pain was so sharp that I could barely breathe. Edward and I had been married for three years, but it turned out that all the love and warmth I thought I was giving was only a joke. I looked at the child and suddenly realized that, aside from looking like Edward's, his eyes faintly resembled mine, too. What an ironic coincidence. Edward, was this your way of telling me whom you really wanted to spend your life and have children with? I didn't say a word, turned, went back to my study, and printed out the divorce agreement I'd prepared long ago. Then I walked back into the living room and set the thin papers down on the coffee table in front of Edward. "Let's get a divorce," I said, my voice calm and steady. "I don't want the house or the car. Leave me my lab and my research. It's better for you, me, and her."