Charlotte didn’t understand why her husband was smiling. Not until she heard the words.

“Yes, the divorce is final.”

The remote slipped from her hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Her breath hitched.

Divorce?

Her eyes remained glued to the television screen, her entire body frozen in place. Michael stood before a crowd of reporters, composed, confident, and happy.

Too happy.

“As you all know,” he continued smoothly, “I have been patient.”

Charlotte shook her head slowly, her lips parting in disbelief.

“No… no, that’s not possible…”

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the edge of the table to steady herself.

He never told her.

Not once.

Not even in anger.

Not even during their worst fights.

So how…?

How was he standing there—announcing their divorce to the entire world like she meant nothing?

He was the only man she had ever loved. She couldn't recall any heated argument that would push him to this extreme.

There was no way he would choose to divorce her and make it public without even informing her first.

What happened to handing her divorce papers or at least threatening divorce before making such a final decision?

The thought sent hot tears cascading down her cheeks as she watched him, on screen, happily announcing a divorce that hadn’t even happened yet. He had never once mentioned divorce to her, even during their worst days.

Charlotte dropped to the ground, reaching out to the couch for support.

Her heart thumping loudly in her chest, her breath quickened, and her body trembled with fear.

She couldn't understand why, but she was nervous about losing him.

The mere thought of actually receiving divorce papers from him brought a sudden wave of heat, causing her to break out in a sweat, tears forming in her eyes as she coerced herself to stay sane.

“Is… it a crime to love him? I have loved him foolishly since childhood. What… more do I have to do for him to appreciate me?” she stuttered, her voice trembling.

For five years, she had endured an abusive marriage, silently tolerating insults from Michael, his mother, and his sister. Sporadically, he even went as far as hitting her.

She had been their scapegoat for years, but she never once complained, hoping he would change.

But she was mistaken; the bullying only worsened with time.

Michael's father had been a close friend of her father and his personal driver.

He had promised Charlotte’s father that she and Michael would end up together, ensuring they married before he passed away.

Back then, Michael had shown little interest in her; she was just a friend.

But as they spent more time together, he fell in love with her.

They married right after she graduated from college, but everything changed after his father died.

And ever since, she has endured one form of maltreatment after another.

Occasionally, they even locked her up and starved her for a couple of days before she got released, and this she's never told her father.

Charlotte sniffed, wiping the tears off her face.

“I can't endure this pain,” she said, clutching her chest as she panted heavily. The pain is too severe for her to endure, but she tries to stay strong.

She already paid for her barrenness this last year; the insults from his mother and sister were enough to pay for her crime of loving him.

Despite the insults, she hated herself for still wanting to be with him.

He's cheating on her, and she's aware, but each time she confronts him regarding it, he ends up insulting her without answering her questions.

Michael is a mummy's boy; he does most of the things his mother instructs him to do.

Just a month after his father died, everything changed. His mother controls the company, and gives him orders, and he foolishly abides.

For the next thirty minutes, she cried until she could no longer cry.

An idea popped into her head, making her rise from the floor.

Michael won't be home until late at night, his usual time when he comes home after she's asleep.

She wanted to confront him that badly, which prompted her to ascend the stairs.

She returned with her car keys, scurried to the parking lot, got into her car, and drove out of the house.

Charlotte drives out at high speed, heading to his office, while fresh tears stream down her cheeks.

She was shivering while she drove and cried until she was some minutes away from getting to his office.

While trying to wipe the tears off her face, a car came at high speed, and they both collided, causing an accident.

Passersby engulfed the place; they came to their rescue, and they were rushed to a private hospital nearby. Upon arriving, they hurriedly transferred them to the emergency room.

“Call her family.” A doctor instructed them, before they entered the room, to attend to them.

The nurse at the reception turned to the figures. “Did you retrieve phones from the accident?” The receptionist asked the figures who brought them to the hospital.

“Yes.” She collected both phones and entered Charlotte's emergency dial contact. She saw a contact named Michael and proceeded to call.

It rang for the fifth time, but he never picked up.

The receptionist got worried and proceeded to call the other number she saw as the father's. It rang, and that instant he picked up.

“Hello! Am I speaking to the father of Ms. Charlotte? If yes, please, you are to come to the hospital; she got into an accident.”

“Yes, I am her father. Which hospital, please?”

“The St. Grace medical hospital,” she responded, and the line went off. She looked at the phone and just shrugged before returning to her desk.

The figures who brought her in went on with their activities when she dropped the call.

Ten minutes later, her father barged into the reception, panting heavily.

Three weeks after the accident that nearly took her life, Charlotte was finally discharged from the hospital.

Fernandez had managed to cover her medical bills by borrowing money, despite his already strained condition.

Just as they were about to leave, the doctor walked in, holding a sheet of paper.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. Please, pick up these medications on your way out,” he said, handing it to her father.

Fernandez took it, then glanced at Charlotte.

Her hospital gown hung loosely on her frail frame, her face pale, her eyes distant—lost in thoughts she couldn’t seem to escape.

Michael never came.

Not once.

Not to see her. Not to ask about her condition. Not even to care about the bills.

“Ms. Charlotte,” the doctor called gently.

She looked up slowly.

“I believe your father has informed you that you’ll need to come in once a week for checkups.”

He had told her—but not why.

She felt fine… or at least, fine enough. So why the constant visits?

A flicker of suspicion crossed her mind, but she said nothing. If there was something being hidden from her, perhaps it was for the best.

She wasn’t sure she could survive another blow.

“It’s fine… I’ll come,” she said softly, sniffing as she held back the tears threatening to spill.

“Very well. You’re free to go.”

With that, the doctor turned and left.

Fernandez stepped forward to help her, but she shook her head lightly.

“I’m okay. I can walk.”

He didn’t argue.

Outside the hospital, they stood by the roadside, waiting for a cab.

“You’re coming home with me,” Fernandez said firmly. “You still need rest.”

Charlotte shook her head.

“I can’t. I need to see Michael… I need answers. And I have to get my things.”

“Charlotte,” he sighed, “don’t be stubborn. He didn’t come for three weeks. Do you really think he’ll care now?”

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she raised her hand and hailed a cab.

“Please… just pay the fare before I go.”

Fernandez hesitated, but in the end, he gave in. He told the driver her address and paid.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she got in. “I’ll see you at home.”

The ride was silent.

Charlotte stared out the window, her vision blurred with tears.

Memories flooded her mind—moments she once cherished, now twisted into something painful.

Five years of marriage.

Five years… and nothing to show for it.

Not even a child.

Her grip tightened in her lap.

Still… she had tried.

She had always tried.

The car slowed to a stop.

Charlotte looked up.

The mansion stood before her—unchanged, yet it felt foreign.

Cold.

Unwelcoming.

She stepped out slowly, her legs weak beneath her. For a moment, she hesitated.

Maybe… she shouldn’t have come.

But it was too late. The security let her in without question.

Inside, the house was quiet.

Too quiet.

She moved toward the stairs, thinking Michael might be upstairs, but then she heard voices coming from the kitchen area.

Her steps slowed as she followed the sound, brown arch, heart beginning to pound.

She pushed the door open.

And froze.

Norah.

Michael’s cousin.

Standing there like she belonged.

For a moment, Charlotte couldn’t move.

Then Norah turned.

Her eyes swept over Charlotte, filled with nothing but disgust.

“What are you doing here?” she sneered. “Who let this stinky, barren woman in?”

Charlotte’s chest tightened.

“You—” her voice shook. “I knew something was wrong about you. How dare you steal what is mine?”

Norah laughed.

“Steal? You have nothing worth stealing.” She folded her arms. “If I were you, I’d leave before I call security.”

“What’s going on?” Michael’s voice came from behind.

Charlotte’s heart leapt.

He was here.

Finally.

But before she could speak, Norah suddenly cried out and dropped to the floor.

“Ouch! My stomach—Michael, help me! She’s trying to hurt my baby!”

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Baby?

Michael rushed in, shoving Charlotte aside as he went straight to Norah.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked urgently.

“She tried to harm our baby,” Norah whimpered, clutching her stomach.

Our baby.

The words echoed in Charlotte’s head.

She stood there, stunned—unable to speak, unable to move.

“What are you doing here?” Michael snapped, turning to her. “And how dare you touch my child?”

Before she could respond—

Slap!

Her head snapped to the side.

Her cheek burned.

But she didn’t cry out.

She was used to it.

“Get out,” he said coldly. “Before I do something I’ll regret. There’s nothing between us anymore. I’ll send you the divorce papers.”

Charlotte’s chest tightened as she struggled to breathe.

“You left me in the hospital…” she whispered. “And now you’re throwing me out?”

Tears blurred her vision.

“What did I do wrong? Is it because I couldn’t give you a child?”

“Yes,” another voice cut in.

Charlotte turned.

His mother.

“Isn’t that enough?” she continued. “You’ve ruined him already. Must you destroy him completely?”

“I was in the hospital for weeks,” Charlotte said, her voice breaking. “None of you came,”

“You should have died,” his sister added coldly.

Charlotte froze.

“Even you…?” she whispered.

“Save it,” his mother snapped. “We would have buried you properly if you had.”

“Now leave,” the sister pointed to the door.

Charlotte didn’t move.

Her eyes went back to Michael, hoping, waiting to take her back.

Begging… without words.

“Michael… please,” she dropped to her knees. “I still want you. I can change, I’ll give you a child, I promise—”

But he didn’t even look at her.

Instead, he pulled Norah into his arms.

That was her answer.

“She’s not going anywhere,” his mother said, grabbing Charlotte’s arm.

They dragged her out.

And threw her outside.

The door slammed shut.

Charlotte collapsed where she stood, her tears falling freely.

Everything was gone.

Everything.

And yet…

A part of her still clung to him.

Still hoped.

Still refused to let go.

And that frightened her more than anything else.

Instead of going home with her father, Charlotte went to a park filled with couples laughing and enjoying each other’s company. The sound of their laughter echoed faintly in her ears, almost like a distant memory she could no longer reach. She sat quietly on a bench, her gaze unfocused, her thoughts heavy and tangled.

Three weeks in the hospital.

Three long weeks.

And not once had Michael come to see her.

Not even a call.

Not even a message.

She should have expected this. Deep down, she had known something like this would happen, yet it still hurt more than she could bear. It wasn’t just the absence—it was the confirmation of everything she had been trying so hard to ignore.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the borrowed phone resting in her palm. The couple who had lent it to her stood a few steps away, watching her with quiet concern. They had noticed the way her hands trembled and how her breathing seemed uneven, like she was holding herself together by a fragile thread.

Charlotte lowered her head and dialed his number.

Each digit felt heavier than the last.

As the call began to ring, she stepped aside, needing a bit of distance, as though that alone would give her strength. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, and her lips moved silently in prayer.

Please… just this once.

Pick up.

“Hello? Who is this?” Michael’s voice came through, calm and slightly drowsy.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“It’s me… please don’t hang up,” she said quickly, her voice shaky but desperate. “Let’s talk this through. You can’t do this to me, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

There was a brief pause on the other end.

Then she heard it.

The woman's voice.

Soft, familiar in the worst possible way.

Charlotte’s heart sank instantly.

“Are you serious right now?” Michael said, his tone turning cold without warning. “What part of ‘it’s over’ don’t you understand? I already sent the divorce papers. They’ve been signed.”

Charlotte froze completely.

Signed?

Her mind struggled to process the word. She had never signed anything. No papers had been given to her. No conversation had taken place.

So how…?

“No… please,” her voice trembled, barely holding together. “I know this isn’t what you want. Don’t let your mother—”

“Don’t call this number again,” he cut in sharply. “If you do, you’ll regret it.”

The line went dead.

For a moment, Charlotte didn’t move.

She just stood there, staring at the phone as if it might somehow come back to life, as if he might call back and say it was all a mistake.

But nothing happened.

Slowly, her hand dropped to her side.

She walked back to the couple and returned the phone, forcing herself to speak. “Thank you,” she murmured softly, avoiding their eyes.

They didn’t say anything, but the pity in their expressions was enough to make her chest tighten again.

Charlotte turned away and returned to her seat.

This time, she didn’t try to stop the tears.

They came freely, silently, tracing warm paths down her cheeks. She didn’t sob, didn’t make a sound—she just sat there, letting everything inside her slowly fall apart.

The laughter around her felt distant now.

Mocking.

Like the world was moving on without her.

She pressed her lips together, trying to steady herself, but it was useless. The weight in her chest only grew heavier, suffocating her little by little.

Unable to bear the stares she was beginning to attract, Charlotte stood up and made her way toward the restroom.

Once inside, she stepped into a stall and locked the door behind her.

And then she broke.

The sobs came all at once—raw, uncontrollable, echoing against the walls of the small space. She pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn’t help.

Everything she had held back for weeks came pouring out.

The pain.

The humiliation.

The betrayal.

No one came to check on her.

No one knocked.

And for the first time… she didn’t expect anyone to.

She was used to this.

Being alone.

Being ignored.

Being left behind.

Minutes passed—she didn’t know how many. Time had lost meaning.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, replaced by quiet, uneven breaths.

About thirty minutes later, Charlotte stepped out of the stall.

Her eyes were swollen and red, her face pale, but her expression had changed. The pain was still there, but it had settled into something quieter… something emptier.

She walked to the sink and turned on the tap, splashing cold water on her face. She stared at her reflection for a long moment, barely recognizing the woman looking back at her.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she told herself silently.

‘I have to be.’

There was no one else she could rely on.

No one else who would pick her up.

After a few more seconds, she forced a small smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes—and turned away.

When she returned to the park, she chose a different spot to sit, farther from where she had been before. This time, she kept her distance, as though trying to separate herself from everything around her.

She watched the couples quietly.

They laughed, teased each other, leaned into one another like the world belonged only to them.

Charlotte looked away after a while, a faint, sad smile forming on her lips.

She had never had that.

Not even once.

Not even in the beginning.

“Hello, dear.”

Charlotte blinked, startled, and looked up.

An elderly woman stood before her, her posture straight, her expression calm, and her eyes unusually sharp despite the gentle smile on her lips.

“Are you here alone?” the woman asked.

Charlotte hesitated, then nodded slightly.

The woman studied her carefully, as though she could see through every layer Charlotte had tried to build around herself.

“You just got your heart broken, didn’t you?” she said calmly.

Charlotte stiffened.

“How—”

“I heard your call,” the woman replied simply. “And I can see it in your eyes.”

Charlotte looked away, uncomfortable. “I’m not interested in sympathy,” she said quietly.

The woman chuckled softly.

“I’m not offering sympathy.”

Charlotte frowned slightly, confused.

“I’m offering you a way out.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

The woman took a small step closer, her gaze steady.

“Marry my son.”

Charlotte stared at her, certain she had misheard.

“What?”

“You don’t have to love him,” the woman continued calmly. “Just agree, and your life will change.”

Charlotte let out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

“I just got divorced. Why would I jump into another marriage?”

The woman didn’t seem bothered by her reaction. Instead, she looked at her more closely, as though measuring something.

“Because staying like this will destroy you,” she said quietly.

Charlotte froze.

The words hit deeper than she expected.

Still, she shook her head.

“I’m not interested.”

She stood up, gripping her bag tightly, ready to leave.

This conversation was absurd.

Her life had just fallen apart, and now this woman was offering her another marriage like it was some kind of solution.

She turned to walk away.

“Name your price,” the woman said calmly behind her.

Charlotte stopped.

Her steps faltered.

“And I’ll pay it.”