Divorce? His Biggest Mistake

Anastasia: A silly crush, that's all it took to ruin my entire life because here I was four years later with no family but the man I gave everything up for, the man who now wanted nothing to do with me, the man who was madly in love with someone else, and the sad part of it was I brought a human in it, a human who had to suffer because of my mistake. Well, enough was enough. It was time to reclaim my position and give my daughter a better life, with or without him, but definitely without him, and he wouldn't just walk free; he would pay for every tear my daughter and I shed.

William: The marriage was never supposed to happen; she tricked me into it; she ruined my chance at love because now I had to marry her whether I liked it or not. I never loved her, and I did everything to make sure she experienced hell on earth, but when she proposed divorce, I panicked; my heart skipped a beat for the first time in four years. I was afraid to lose her; I couldn't let her go. I had to fight for her; I had to win her back. I couldn't let another man take her and my daughter from me. I had to save my family.

WASHINGTON, SEATTLE 2022

~ANASTASIA~

Most stories open up in a decent environment, but mine opened up in a rather rathole—a prison cell. I tried to pinpoint the moment everything went wrong, but I couldn't. I don't even know when my perfect world flipped upside down, let alone how I got here.

Never in my life did I imagine I’d be in a prison cell, let alone because of the man I love.

God, life can be so unpredictable!

I was staring at the dirty ceiling, watching the spiders scurry around. I don't even know how I didn't throw up with this place smelling like it does, full of rats.

“Mrs. Rogers?” A guard's voice snapped me back to reality. “You're going home,” she said as she unlocked the cell. A smile crossed my face at the thought of my husband.

Finally, I was going home; my husband was here for me; I thought he had forgotten about me.

I followed the guard as she led me out of the cell to the reception, but as we reached there, I saw a man I wasn't expecting. I looked at the door, hoping to see my husband. He might be on a call or something.

“Here are your things, Mrs. Rogers; you're free to go.” I heard an officer who was at the reception say, “You just need to sign here.” He sounded kind. I quickly turned and grabbed the document from his hands. I wanted to see who had bailed me out, but I was disappointed to find it was not my husband.

“Of course, it's not him,” I muttered under my breath, feeling disappointed; my heart even ached at the thought of it not being my husband.

“Is there a problem?” The officer asked as I stared at the document. Five hundred—that's how much my bail cost, but apparently my husband didn't have it for me, or maybe he just didn't care.

"No, there's no problem,” I cleared my throat. “Please, where do I sign?” I asked; I couldn't show how hurt I was, not in front of anyone. The officer pointed to the striped lines, and I took the pen, signing my name.

“But you should be careful from now on; if you're caught speeding again, there will be serious consequences,” he warned, and I nodded. “You're free to go,” he stated, and I thanked him before I walked toward the door.

“Ms. Anastasia, so good to see you.”

“I'm not dealing with you today.” I looked away from the man who paid for my bail.

“I understand, but at least allow me to drive you.”

“No, my husband will come and get me; don't you have other... Don't you have work to do?” I questioned, as he had been following me for as long as I could remember.

“This is my job, Ms. Anastasia,” he said, sounding innocent. I rolled my eyes at how persistent he was. "Please, Ms. Anastasia, just a ride home, then I'll be out of your sight.” He insisted. I looked out the road and hoped to see at least a sign of a taxi, but nothing.

"Fine, but just a ride home.” I sighed.

“I promise,” he quickly ran to his car and opened the backseat door for me, rolling my eyes. I walked to it and got in.

“And I'm married, so call me Mrs. Rogers.”

“My apologies.” He apologized, then closed the door before he got in the driver's seat and started the car.

Gosh, I couldn't wait to get home, have a warm bath, eat good food, and hopefully cuddle with my husband. The past few days I haven't seen him felt like forever.

I rested my head against the seat and closed my eyes. I couldn't fight the urge to rest, even just for a few seconds. Prison is not a place I would wish for anyone, not even my worst enemies.

I don't know for how long I've closed my eyes, but when I felt the car coming to a halt, I jolted up and looked out the window just to make sure he brought me home—my husband's house, not the other way around.

“Thank you,” I said as I opened the door. I didn't hear what he said, but something. Well, it didn't matter; what was important was that he brought me home.

Reaching the gate, I found it locked, so I knocked. I kept knocking, but no one came to answer. ‘The gatekeeper must be off today,’ I thought as I reached into my handbag and got my keys. Luckily, I had a spare key for the gate, so taking it, I opened the gate, and after closing, I walked toward the house door.

I couldn't help but notice my husband's favorite car. “He must be off today,” I said to myself, “but if he's..." I stopped and thought for a second, “No, he's probably not feeling well,” saying that I quickly rushed to the door. What if he was sick and no one came to check on him?

But as I unlocked the door, I heard sounds that made my bag slip from my hands. The sounds seemed to be coming from the living room.

My heart started racing and, my nerves pricking, but I calmed myself; I didn't want to jump to any conclusions and regret it later.

“Aah, baby!”

My knees felt weak. I knew who the voice belonged to.

Even though it felt like my legs wouldn’t support me any longer, I dragged myself to the living room. I had to see for myself. And there, the small hope I relied on was shattered.

My husband was in between a naked woman's legs; I didn't need to guess who the woman was, as I knew those legs well—Jimena.

“What the fuck? What are you doing here?” My so-called husband quickly got up and zipped his trousers; he was still shirtless. No, I won't say I was shocked. I knew he was cheating on me. I just didn't know he would do it in my own house, especially when I was locked up because of him.

I knew about his infidelity; Jimena made it well known. Still, I held onto a small hope that he would one day get bored of her and change. I never thought it would lead to this—I was never prepared for a day like this.

"Babe, please go upstairs.” He didn't sound regretful or shameful at all, and no, he wasn't talking to me; he was talking to Jimena.

I watched with blurry eyes as she obeyed him; she even had the guts to peck his lips before she walked toward the stairs in my own house. “And you, were you not supposed to be in jail?” he turned to me, his voice cold.

“W…w-what?” My voice trembled. I didn’t even know what I was feeling as I couldn’t feel my heart—it was like it stopped working, but I could feel my body shaking and the tears that I hadn’t even noticed rolled freely down my cheek.

“Listen, grandfather is dead, so there's no use pretending anymore; we're getting a divorce.” He declared, sounding calm, like I didn't just catch him fucking his mistress on my sofa.