SABRINA
“I want a divorce.”
Shocked to the core, my hand trembled, causing the fork to slip from my grasp and clatter onto the plate. I stared at my husband, desperately hoping that his words were a cruel figment of my imagination. "What... what are you saying?"
His voice carried an air of finality as he repeated his declaration. "I want a divorce." Mykel's gaze pierced through me, devoid of the warmth and familiarity that had once defined our connection. "I can no longer pretend that everything is flawless when it's far from the truth."
How could he say such things? I searched desperately for evidence to contradict his words, grasping at any recent moment of connection. "We were intimate for hours just last night," I protested, my voice tinged with desperation. "We maintained our cherished movie night tradition just a few days ago. You even told me you loved me!"
He cut me off abruptly, his face contorting with a mix of frustration and anguish. "Enough!" he hissed through clenched teeth, his words laced with pain. "Last night was purely physical, driven by my desires, not my emotions. And that movie night? I was mindlessly glued to my phone throughout, not truly present with you."
The constant presence of his phone had become a familiar sight, an unfortunate side effect of his billionaire status. With a shaky hand, I reached for my glass of water and took a sip, trying to steady my nerves. "I understand that work has been incredibly demanding for you lately," I began, my voice laced with empathy. "So let's just... let's just pretend that the last few minutes didn't happen."
Mykel let out a humorless chuckle, his frustration evident in his expression. "Are you truly oblivious, or are you deliberately feigning ignorance?" he retorted, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He pushed his chair back forcefully, rising to his feet with a mix of resentment. "I'm standing here, baring my soul and confessing that I am exhausted from this facade we've been living, and you have the audacity to attribute it solely to work stress?"
I whispered his name softly, my hands trembling beneath the safety of the table. "Mykel, please," I implored, my voice barely above a whisper. "Sit back down." I glanced around anxiously, aware of the prying ears that could potentially overhear our heated exchange. "You need to lower your voice, or the maids might catch wind of our conversation."
A bitter scoff escaped Mykel's lips as he ridiculed my plea. "Do you honestly believe I give a damn about that?" he retorted, his words laced with disdain. His lips smacked together in a gesture of frustration as he stood tall, his hands finding solace in his pockets while his glare pierced through me. "Look at you, prattling on about stress. What could you possibly know about stress when all you do is sit at home, spending my hard-earned money?"
"Do not speak to me in such a condescending manner, Mykel," I asserted, my voice carrying a tinge of reproach. "You, of all people, are well aware of how passionately I desired to return to work after our marriage. But you and your mother vehemently opposed it."
I had been earning a respectable income as a model before that ill-fated incident after our marriage, which led Mykel to insist that I give up my career. Out of love and a deep desire to please him, I had obediently complied, succumbing to the pressure exerted by both him and his mother.
“I kicked against you working for someone, I never said anything about you doing nothing productive with your life!”
My bewilderment turned into frustration as I rose to my feet, matching his glare with my own. "Watch your words, Mykel!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with a mix of anger and hurt. "Where is all of this coming from? Have I done something to offend you? Is this some kind of twisted retaliation?"
With a resigned shake of his head, he distanced himself from the table, taking a few steps away. "Everything about you offends me," he fired back, his tone dripping with bitterness. "Your mere presence in my house offends me. Seeing you every day offends me. That's why I want you to sign the divorce papers as soon as they arrive."
My lips quivered as I fought back the tears, biting down hard in a futile attempt to hold them at bay. But they spilled forth anyway, cascading down my cheeks as I watched his retreating figure. "Is there another woman?" I choked out, the only explanation that seemed to make sense of his inexplicable behavior.
Mykel stood rigidly in the doorway, his demeanor cold and distant. His gaze pierced through me with a palpable disgust. "Does it truly matter?" he retorted, his voice tinged with bitterness.
Deep within me, a resolute determination began to take shape. Regardless of whether there was another woman involved, I refused to give up on my marriage, on my husband. "Just be honest with me, Mykel," I pleaded, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I need to know what I'm facing."
He stared at me for a moment, his expression fraught with inner conflict, before letting out an irritated exhale. "If there were another woman in my life, rest assured, I wouldn't be concealing her from you," he replied, his words carrying a hint of resignation.
A surge of confusion washed over me. "Are you implying that you would openly disrespect me?" I questioned, my voice laced with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.
His response was both unexpected and brutally honest. "If you're asking whether I would engage in a s****l relationship with another woman, then yes, I have already disrespected you, as you so aptly put it." I stared at him, my astonishment written across my face, struggling to process the weight of his confession. "But those other women are not the reason I am seeking a divorce," he continued, his voice filled with weariness. "I am leaving you because I am exhausted from playing the role of your husband."
The pain in my chest intensified as I placed a trembling hand against it, a feeble attempt to alleviate the anguish radiating through me. "How could you do something so heartless and remain shameless?" I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of disbelief and anguish.
His gaze remained cold and distant as he met my eyes. "The divorce papers should arrive by the weekend," he stated matter-of-factly, his tone devoid of empathy. "Do yourself a favor and sign them. Trust me, you do not want to provoke me any further." With one final searing glare, he stormed out of the dining room, leaving me numb and bewildered.
Overwhelmed by the weight of it all, I couldn't bear to remain on my feet any longer. Sliding down until my backside met the cold tiles, I sat there in a daze, staring blankly at the surface before me. How had everything unraveled so quickly? The pain in my chest intensified, and I gave in to the overwhelming sorrow, allowing my tears to flow freely as my heart shattered into a million broken pieces.
Aksara