Chapter 3

3.

“Honey, I was just stressed this morning. I didn't mean to snap at you.”

“Let’s have dinner tonight, okay? Just the two of us.”

In the past, whenever we fought, I’d cave the second she showed any weakness.

I always believed that a marriage required forgiveness and that you shouldn't let a fight get ugly.

I thought about it for a moment and agreed.

But I wasn't accepting her olive branch. I was bringing something for her to sign.

I pulled the divorce papers I had just printed from my desk drawer.

For a second, I felt a pang of nostalgia. I remembered the day we got our license.

“In plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live...”

The vows felt like they were spoken yesterday. But three years is a long time. It’s long enough to turn a person into a stranger.

I sat in the high-end steakhouse as wave after wave of customers came and went.

The waiter asked me more than five times if I wanted to order.

I just shook my head, and he refilled my glass of water.

I waited until the water was ice cold and the restaurant was empty.

The city lights outside were beginning to dim. The waiter finally approached me.

“Sir, we’re closing for the night.”

She never showed up.

I walked out of the restaurant, clutching the divorce papers in my trembling hand.

A few minutes ago, Quincy had posted on Instagram.

“My secret weapon. Thank you for everything you do.”

The photo showed them at a gala, their fingers interlaced.

The comments were a frenzy of fans losing their minds.

“The real deal is finally here! Take care of our king, Seraphina!”

“Thank you for being his silent support all these years.”

They had woven a beautiful fairy tale for the public.

In their story, he was the rising star and she was the sun that kept him going.

She was his eternal light.

I twisted my mouth into a bitter smile. It felt like the three years we spent together were nothing but a fever dream.

When I got home and finished showering, Seraphina walked in wearing a stunning designer gown.

She tossed a signed box onto the sofa.

“Something came up at the last minute. You probably saw the post. Quincy’s manager insisted I attend.”

“That gift box is for you. Consider it an apology.”

I didn't even look at it. I didn't say a word.

“Cade? Are you deaf? I’m talking to you.”

“What do you want me to say? That I don't want a limited edition Quincy Pierce fan kit?”

Seraphina picked up the box and threw it at me.

“What is your problem? His autograph sells for thousands on the secondary market!”

“I’m trying to be nice, and you’re acting like a jerk. Fine, don't take it!”

I ignored her and walked into the bedroom, locking the door behind me.

We had been sleeping in separate rooms for a year anyway. She had her own suite.

I didn't want to share a bed with her ever again.

Even when we were together, we were dreaming of different people.