Chapter 2

I headed back to the place I used to call "home"—though calling it that now felt like a sick joke.

Henry's presence was still all over the place, impossible to escape.

His tie was slung carelessly by the front door, his jacket tossed over the couch, and the faint smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air like a bad memory.

Every corner of this house screamed how, for three long years, my entire life had revolved around him.

I'd been like a wind-up toy, spinning nonstop just to keep him happy, never slowing down, never complaining.

And him? He held the string tight. When he was in a good mood, he'd spin me for fun; when he wasn't, he'd toss me aside like a broken toy, no second thought, no remorse.

I threw open every window, letting the icy night wind howl inside.

It swept through the rooms, sweeping away every last trace of the so-called "intimacy" we'd shared—and with it, the last sliver of warmth in my chest.

I didn't cry. I didn't even feel a twinge of sadness.

For the first time in years, there was a quiet peace inside me, like the ocean right after a storm—calm, still, and empty in the best way possible.

I dragged out two suitcases and started packing up my stuff.

Honestly, I didn't have much worth keeping.

Most of my clothes had been picked to please Henry—soft, frilly, ladylike stuff, nothing bold, nothing that screamed "me."

He loved keeping me as his little caged bird: pretty, gentle, always sweet and obedient, never daring to talk back or step out of line.

I pulled each item out of the closet and tossed it straight into a trash bag, one after another—no hesitation, no second glances.

Even the fancy jewelry and designer bags he'd given me ended up in there too.

Once, I'd treated those things like they were gold, like they were proof of his love. Now? All I could see was the irony dripping off them.

They were just props, little trinkets he used to show off how "generous" he was.

He got a kick out of controlling me with his money, and back then, I was dumb enough to mistake that for affection.

The only things I kept were a few plain, basic clothes—and my professional tools.

It was a full set of high-end jewelry design and crafting tools, gathering dust in the study cabinet, untouched for years.

I'd graduated from one of the best design schools in the world, once a rising star designer with big dreams and the skills to match.

But Henry, with his promise—"I'll take care of you"—had made me throw all that away without a second thought.

Now that I thought about it, that "I'll take care of you" was no different from the way he'd thrown around "divorce" last night.

Both were empty promises, throwaway lines that never came from the heart—just words he spewed to get what he wanted.

By the time I finished packing, the first hints of dawn were breaking over the horizon.

Lugging my suitcases, I took one last look at the house where I'd wasted three years of my life.

No regret, no sadness—just pure, unadulterated freedom.

I shot Henry a text.

[I packed all my stuff and left it by the door. Handle it when you get back. Meet me at the courthouse at 9 a.m. tomorrow.]

After hitting send, I blocked him everywhere—phone, WhatsApp, social media, every single platform.

I didn't want to hear his voice, see his messages, or even catch a glimpse of his face ever again.

I was scared that if I did, I'd break, and let that old weakness creep back in.

My best friend Tina Morgan pulled up right on time to pick me up.

When she saw me standing outside the apartment complex with my suitcases, she didn't say a word—she just hopped out of the car and pulled me into a big, warm hug that felt like coming home.

"So you finally came to your senses, huh?" Tina asked, her voice soft, no trace of surprise—just quiet heartache.

I nodded, my eyes stinging a little. "Yeah. I finally did."

"That's my girl," Tina said, tossing my suitcases into the trunk. "Ditching that jerk is the smartest thing you'll ever do—he's not worth the dirt under your nails. Come on, we're gonna start over, and it'll be way better than anything that loser ever gave you."

Tina and I had been friends since college—she was the only one who'd never bought into the "perfect couple" act Henry and I put on.

Right from the start, she'd said he looked at me like I was his property, not his partner.

Back then, I'd brushed her off, thinking she was just jealous.

Now I finally get it—sometimes, people on the outside see the truth more clearly than those stuck in the middle.

Tina's apartment wasn't big, but it felt cozy, like a safe haven.

She cleared out the guest room for me, even laid out brand-new toiletries and pajamas—little touches that made my chest feel warm.

"Get some real sleep first," Tina said, tucking the blanket around me. "Whatever's gonna happen, we'll hash it out when you wake up. No rush, no pressure."

I sank into the soft bed, breathing in the sun-warmed scent of the sheets. The tension that had been coiled in my shoulders for three years finally melted away, and I let myself relax—truly relax—for the first time in ages.

I slept deeper than I had in years, no dreams, no memories of Henry, just pure, peaceful darkness.

The next morning, I showed up at the courthouse right on time, just like I'd said.

Henry was there too, looking like he'd pulled an all-nighter—dark circles under his eyes, his shirt wrinkled, hair a mess.

When he saw me, he marched over, his face twisted with annoyance.

"Rachel, cut the crap—are you done with this little stunt yet?" Henry snapped, his tone as condescending as ever.

"I messed up last night, okay? I shouldn't have joked about something this serious. Just come home with me, and we'll pretend this whole thing never happened."

He thought that if he tossed me a crumb of an apology, I'd be so grateful I'd come running back, begging him to forgive me.

I looked at him, and honestly? It was almost funny.

"Henry, do you really think I'm just messing around here?" I asked, my voice calm, steady—way calmer than I felt.

My composure caught him off guard.

He frowned, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Wait, you're serious? You actually wanna go through with this divorce?"

"Yes," I nodded without hesitation. "I want a divorce. For real."

"You..." He stumbled over his words, clearly caught off guard by how blunt I was, his face turning red with anger. "Rachel, don't push your luck. I'm giving you an out here—take it, and stop making a scene in public."

"An out?" I laughed, cold and bitter. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather walk a tightrope over fire than take the 'out' you're offering. I'm done crashing and burning for you."

People started staring, their heads turning to gawk at us.

Henry's face turned even darker, and he leaned in, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.

"Don't forget—everything you have is because of me. Leave me, and you'll be nothing. You'll be lost without me."

This was his go-to move, his favorite way to keep me under his thumb.

He'd always used money and status to make me feel small, like I couldn't survive on my own.

Back then, that would've terrified me, made me panic.

But now? It just made me feel sorry for him.

"Henry, you've got it all wrong," I said, locking eyes with him, my voice sharp as a knife. "Everything I have—my talent, my brains, my worth—it never had anything to do with you.

"Leaving you? That's when I'll finally become who I was always meant to be. A better me."

With that, I turned on my heel and walked straight into the courthouse, not sparing him another glance.

He stood there frozen, clearly not expecting me to be so unshakable.

By the time he snapped out of it and followed me inside, I'd already taken my number slip.

I didn't say a word to him the whole time—not even a side-eye.

He finally realized I wasn't messing around, his expression turning so stormy it could frighten a grown man.

Halfway through the wait, his phone started ringing.

I watched him step to the side, cupping his hand over the phone like he was hiding something.

"Joanna? Yeah, I'm fine, just dealing with a little drama... Her? Nah, she's just throwing a fit, soft as always, easy to push around. I'll calm her down in no time... Relax, there's no way we're actually getting divorced. It's just a stupid prank gone wrong."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word cut through the air like a knife.

Soft. Easy to push around.

That was how he really saw me—how he'd always seen me.

My hands curled into tight fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.

The sharp pain kept me grounded, kept me from losing my temper, and kept me focused on what I had to do.

When the staff handed us the divorce decree, Henry's smile still had that hint of mockery—like it was just a piece of paper, like he could get me back whenever he wanted.

He stuffed it into his pocket without even glancing at it, like it was trash.

Then he turned to me, his voice casual, like we were just grabbing coffee.

"Alright, the game's over. Let's head home."

I stared at his handsome face—so pretty, so empty, so cruel—and slowly shook my head, my resolve unshakable.

"Henry, the game isn't over," I said, my voice low but steady, sending a chill through the air.

"This? This is where your real truth or dare starts."