Chapter 2

I didn't head home until the Jeep's taillights faded out of sight at the end of the alley.

Back at my place, I drafted the divorce papers.

Edward dropped Mia off at the hotel, the one right next to the government offices.

That was his secret hideaway for her.

I took the divorce papers to his office. The door was slightly ajar.

Edward, the kind of man who'd bleed on the battlefield without shedding a single tear, was now carefully wiping the coal dust from between Mia's fingers with a warm towel, bit by bit.

He was so focused; he wouldn't even let his brow crease for a second.

Mia sat on a leather sofa reserved for high-ranking officials, her feet awkwardly squeezed into a pair of cheap, ill-fitting army shoes.

Edward half-knelt on the floor, cradling her foot as he pulled out a pair of lambskin boots from the box and gently slipped them on for her.

These boots are warm. Stop wearing those crappy old shoes, or your feet will end up frozen, he said.

I stood in the doorway, remembering last winter when I was burning up with a fever and wanted a glass of water, so I asked him for help.

He sat there on the couch, reading his newspaper, not even glancing my way.

Why are you acting so soft Women around here aren't this weak, he shot back.

That was when it hit me. It wasn't that he didn't know how to care for someone. He just didn't want to care for me.

I raised my hand and knocked on the door.

Edward didn't pause what he was doing; he just gave me a quick, icy glance, full of impatience.

Startled, Mia pulled her foot back, her face flushing bright red as she tried to stand up, but Edward gently pressed her shoulder, keeping her seated.

Stay put, he ordered.

He turned to me, his brow deeply furrowed.

Why are you here Edward snapped.

I walked in and slapped the divorce papers down on his desk.

Edward, let's get divorced. I'm done with this, I said.

Edward didn't even bother to look at the papers. He just slid them under the newspaper.

He stood up, brushed the dust off his pants, and said, Quit your drama. Come back to the compound for Christmas Eve dinner. Don't embarrass me.

I'm not making a fuss. Once you sign, I'll leave. I won't give you any reason to be embarrassed, I said, locking eyes with him.

Edward let out a cold laugh, probably thinking I was pulling another reverse psychology stunt.

He casually grabbed a pen and signed the papers without hesitation.

Is this enough to make you stop

Alright, take them and get out. I'm keeping your letter. Let's see how you manage without me, he sneered.

He knew exactly where I'd hidden the letter—right in the cookie tin.

Turned out he'd been keeping tabs on me the whole time.

When I heard he'd taken the letter, my hands started shaking uncontrollably.

He didn't just stop at not loving me; he wanted to clip my wings and lock me in this suffocating marriage for good.

Edward, you really are something else, I said.

I snatched up the divorce papers and turned to leave, tears stinging my eyes but refusing to fall.

Back in that house, I dug out the wool sweater I'd spent three whole months knitting for Edward.

It was meant to be a gift for him, every stitch packed with all the hope I once had.

I balled it up, lifted the lid of the coal stove, and tossed it straight into the roaring flames.

The smell of burning wool spread through the room in seconds, making my throat burn.

The nanny, Lucy, rushed in when she heard the commotion. Seeing what I was doing, she panicked and tried to snatch the sweater away. Oh, that's such a shame! This was such a nice thing!

I grabbed Lucy's hand, watching the flames eat up the red sweater, and honestly, I felt a strange sense of relief.

Let it burn. Edward will have someone else knit him something even better. He never gave a damn about this old thing, I said.

There were still two days left before the convoy headed south for Christmas Eve, and Edward never set foot in this house again.