When I picked up Noah from school, he told me that Grandpa Raymond had called him, saying how much he missed him and asking if he could stay at their house for a week. He wanted me to take him over.

I hesitated for a moment before taking Noah home to pack a small suitcase. He was thrilled, chatting excitedly about how Grandpa had promised they'd fly his remote-controlled helicopter together.

After dropping Noah off, my mom, Helen, walked me to the car. "Amaia, cheer up. Go out and have some fun."

As I got into the car, I glanced back to see her standing there, watching me, not going back inside for quite a while.

I flipped down the car's visor mirror and noticed how pale and worn out I looked. I freshened up my makeup, applying a bold shade of lipstick.

After sorting things out, I went on a week-long trip. I rushed through charming European towns, meeting a variety of people and hearing countless stories along the way.

When I returned, I felt much more reinvigorated.

I glanced at the calendar. The countdown to the divorce was at 21 days.

I returned just in time for my dad's birthday. This year, they planned to hold the celebration at a nearby hotel, gathering family and friends for a cozy get-together. The hotel was conveniently located not far from our home, with five tables reserved for our close-knit circle of loved ones.

Many people were curious about Calvin. Thankfully, my son Noah had soccer practice today, so he wouldn’t be attending the party. My parents skillfully sidestepped any direct questions about Calvin until, just before the meal began, my dad stepped up to say a few words. It was then that Calvin arrived.

He was immaculately dressed in a suit, carrying several gift bags and a large card emblazoned with "Happy Birthday." Relatives and friends greeted him warmly. He waited for my dad to finish speaking, then approached him with the card in hand.

“Happy Birthday, Ray,” Calvin said, extending the card.

My dad gave it a quick glance and replied, “Thank you, Calvin, but you shouldn't have gone to the trouble. After all, you and Amaia are now divorcing, and I wouldn't want you to feel obligated.”

Calvin's expression faltered, a ripple of surprise passing through the crowd before they fell into silence. He replied quietly, “We’re still finalizing things…”

My dad shook his head, "Makes no difference."

With that, he turned to invite everyone to eat and drink. Calvin stood there momentarily, gripping the gift bags tightly. My mom gracefully returned the rest of his gifts. Without lingering, Calvin left.

After he was gone, the guests silently agreed to avoid mentioning him again; no more questions about Calvin. It was a relief.

My emotions were gradually steadying, and I was coming to terms with the changes. I had shed the title of Mrs. Kelly and was back to being Amaia Kelly. Even the property staff and concierge at the office somehow got wind of the news—they stopped calling me Mrs. Kelly and returned to addressing me as Miss Kelly.

I quickly dove into my plans to open a coffee shop. Conveniently, a space was available for lease and I was pleased with the location and layout, so I signed the lease on the spot. The current staff would remain, allowing the business to keep running, but I wanted to spend some time refining the menu and flavors. I also planned to update the signage and furniture, starting with a soft opening.

After a day spent finalizing plans at the shop, I was preparing to head home. I glanced at the calendar on my dashboard. Fifteen days until the divorce was final.