The divorce agreement

"George, please. Give us another chance. I regret what I've done, and I'm willing to make it right. I love you." Megan tightens her grip on my hands, urging me to answer.

I keep looking into her eyes, speechless. Maybe I am searching for answers in the depths of her gaze.

"Say something," she urges.

"Megan, you are thinking too much." I finally find my voice. I can’t believe that I am avoiding answering her. "It’s late. We will talk later. I will first go check the lights you asked me to check."

I walk away, feeling her gaze on me.

Megan grabs my wrist, pulls me over, and makes me turn around and face her. Her disappointment radiates from her eyes, penetrating my heart. I want to console her and alleviate the pain I have unintentionally caused.

As she wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace, her words spill forth.

"I know I made mistakes in the past," she says, "and caused you distress. I shouldn’t have left you. I agree that I was selfish… a moron who failed to cherish the love. What a heartless person I have become to hurt you, and I hate myself for that. Sorry, George. Please forgive me."

The resentment in her tone is palpable.

I cannot understand if she is angry with herself or with me… Maybe with Vivian. I don’t know. It’s confusing.

"Megan, please... don't blame yourself," I murmur. "We both made mistakes. I should have waited for you instead of surrendering to Grandma’s pressure."

"But you made the decision to marry Vivian back then because I left you," she sobs. "It’s my mistake. So, it is only me to blame."

Her arms remain wrapped around me, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding.

"I am back now, and I want to rectify the mistakes I made. I will do my best to win your heart and make you fall in love with me all over again. Please don’t give up on me."

Listening to her heartfelt words, I can't deny the depth of her love for me. I am moved. Yet, I can't help but notice the absence of that familiar spark that used to ignite within me in her presence, even though she holds me so closely, her half-naked form pressing against me. It perplexes me, leaving me questioning my own emotions and desires.

I desperately want to understand why my heart doesn't respond to her the way it once did. Is it the passage of time, the experiences I have shared with Vivian, or something else that has shifted entirely within me?

I stand there with Megan clinging to me, my mind yearning for clarity.

"Megan, I appreciate your sincerity and your unwavering love," I confess, my voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "Stop apologizing now. We are good. Now show me the light that is not working."

I avoid answering her once again.

She loosens her grip slightly, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I muster a smile.

"Do you want me to fix the light or not?" I ask again, pretending not to know what she is yearning for.

"Come with me." She sighs and leads me to her bedroom. When we enter the bedroom, she points at the bedside lamp. "It was not working."

"Okay. Let me check first." I check it and find that the bulb is not working. "The bulb needs to be changed. Do you have an extra bulb?"

"Can you check in the cabinet in the hall?" she asks as she walks into the closet.

I walk out to the hall and find a new bulb in the cabinet. When I come back into the bedroom, I see her wearing a baggy white T-shirt.

She is not wearing any bottoms other than her panties. Her erect nipples are visible since she was without her bra. Even though she looks like a seductress, I find my desire missing, which is surprising.

I don’t know. Maybe I am too tired. I just want to finish the work here and leave.

I fix the bulb, and the lamp returns to its illuminating glory.

"It’s done."

I turn to her and meet her eyes, which are burning with unspoken desire.

"It’s late now. I should leave."

"What is the hurry? The night is still young. Sit and talk to me for a while." She holds my hands, looking at me nostalgically. "We are meeting after a year. Let me cherish these moments."

Her longing to open her heart to me and reveal the depths of her feelings is too obvious to ignore. But the hour is late, and my excuses spilled forth, attempting to shield myself from the emotional complexities.

"Megan, you should rest. We can talk later."

"Have some drinks with me," she urges, "and we will relish the memories we shared in the past."

"I’d love to. But it’s late now. I have an early morning meeting to attend." I lie to escape.

"Then rest here," she says adamantly.

I chuckle. "Another time. You need rest. Sleep."

I can see the disappointment in her eyes as she nods and allows me to leave.

"Good night."

I can't ignore the pang of regret that tugs at my heartstrings as I walk out of her house. Megan deserves to be happy.

I could have stayed with her in her warm embrace, relishing our past, but I chose to leave. I don’t want to face Vivian either. So, I drive to the office.

The next day…

My mind is a whirlwind of frustration and confusion as I sit at my desk amid mountains of paperwork. I can't focus on anything. Each task feels like an insurmountable challenge, and my irritation grows with every minor issue.

I employed a bunch of fools. They don’t even know how to resolve a simple issue.

"Humph…" I still forced myself to check some files.

Just as the workday is nearing its end, there is an unexpected knock on my office door. The interruption makes me frown.

"Come in…"

A middle-aged man enters.

My frown deepens as I continue to look at him. Who is he?

"Mr. Stanley, I am Vivian Simons’ lawyer."

He hands me a stack of papers.

The divorce agreement.

My annoyance turns to fury when I read those words.

I clench my fists tightly. How dare she send me a divorce agreement?

It is my decision, my prerogative to end this marriage whenever I deem fit. I want to tear the documents to shreds and throw them into the trash can.

Since I cannot do this, I look up to say something, but he is gone.

"What? Ugh…"

I shove the documents into the drawer and leave the office.

When I reach home, I see Vivian's suitcase tucked away in the corner of the hall. It intensifies my already mounting annoyance.

I don’t know why I feel that my entire world is crumbling around me. I can’t think of Vivian going away from me. But why?

I don’t love her. It's Megan, whom I always love.

My thoughts are a tangled mess of anger, confusion, and a deep-rooted sense of loss. I wanted to end this marriage. Shouldn’t I be happy? I can't comprehend why I feel this restlessness.

"I have to figure it out," I mutter, taking out a bottle of wine from the fridge.

I sit at the table and pour myself a drink. The once cheerful house is silent now, and this silence is only adding to my inner turmoil.

She used to welcome me whenever I returned home from the office. But tonight, she didn’t come out.

Does she even know that I am home?

My frustration grows, and I cannot sit quietly any longer. I storm into the bedroom, determined to question her.

"She dares to send me the divorce papers," I mutter. "I will show her who is the boss here."

I come to a halt as I see Vivian sleeping blissfully in her pink satin nightgown, her beautiful features glowing beneath the warm light of the nightstand.

I can't deny the allure she exudes; the curve of her body is tempting me. I cannot stop watching her.

She looks attractive.

When my eyes land on the marks I left on her neck last night, I can no longer control my desires. I lean in and press my lips against her skin, relishing the taste and the warmth it ignites within me.

Hormones surge into my veins.

I lie beside her and take her into my arms, kissing her lips fervently.

Vivian stirs, her eyes fluttering open, confusion and resistance evident in her expression. But I can't restrain my own growing intensity.

"George… mm…"

I kiss her even harder, hugging her tightly.

"Stop, George. We can't do this." She tries to push me away.

"Why?" I growl, irritated.

"We are getting a divorce, remember?" she reminds me, still struggling to break free.

Her words irritate me even more.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know why I want her so much. My brain is not in a state to think straight. All I want at this moment is Vivian.

I want to see her surrender to me.

I smirk and say, "Well, I haven’t signed it yet. You are still my wife, and you have obligations to satisfy your husband."

I smack my lips against hers, this time more fiercely.

Conflicting emotions

I wake up early, the morning light casting a gentle glow across the room. I step into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The events of last night play on a loop in my mind, leaving me tangled in a web of confusion.

Why hasn't George signed the divorce agreement I sent him? Wasn't he the one who said he wanted to end this marriage?

I can't make sense of his contradictory actions and words. On one hand, he insists on demanding my intimacy and treating me as his wife; on the other, he claims he wants to sever our ties.

The weight of his expectations burdens me. How can he ask me to fulfill the duties of a wife while simultaneously declaring his intention to leave? It's a paradox I can't decipher.

Does he truly want to end this marriage, or is a part of him still yearning for something more?

Confusion swirls within me like a storm, and I struggle to find solid ground amidst the tempest of my emotions. I thought I knew where we stood, but now I question everything.

Ding-Dong…

The sound of the doorbell disrupts the peaceful morning air, stirring a mix of curiosity and apprehension within me.

"Who could be visiting at such an early hour?"

With cautious steps, I make my way to the door.

As I swing the door open, my breath catches in my throat. Standing before me is Megan, wearing a sly smirk that sends a shiver down my spine. Her presence alone is enough to ignite a storm of emotions within me.

"Good morning, Vivian." She walks into the house confidently as if she is the mistress of the house.

She wastes no time taunting me, mentioning George's grandmother's upcoming birthday party.

"George used to invite me every year," she adds. "Last year, I wasn’t here and couldn’t attend the party. Since I am back, I won’t miss this time. I am going to buy a birthday gift for her with George."

The realization that he always invited Megan to these family gatherings hits me like a sudden gust of wind, and I struggle to maintain composure. It's a painful reminder of their shared history, a connection that I can't seem to sever.

Before I can gather my thoughts, George emerges from the room, dressed immaculately, betraying that he was already aware of Megan's arrival.

"George…" Megan rushes over to him and hooks her arms around his neck. "Good morning."

She plants a kiss on his cheek.

The sight of them together stings, as if a thousand needles pierce my heart. I remain standing there, my face a mask of indifference, determined not to reveal the depth of my emotions.

"Good morning." He returns her smile.

The pang of pain intensifies, but I refuse to let it show. Instead, I turn my back and retreat into the kitchen, seeking solace within the confines of familiar surroundings.

I busily set the table for breakfast, my movements mechanical. I try to drown out their presence, the laughter, and the shared memories that once belonged solely to George and me.

"Pancakes!" Megan walks up to the dining area, her face full of surprise. "George, you still like to eat pancakes at breakfast!" She exclaimed with delight. "Awe… you haven’t forgotten even after a year that I love pancakes."

The corners of my lips hook slightly into a sneer as her words reach my ears.

I had never known about Megan's fondness for pancakes, and yet it seems to have become a shared preference between her and George.

How could I, in the span of a year, fail to create even a ripple within his heart?

The realization hits me like a heavy blow. I had naively believed that our time together, our shared experiences, and our intimate moments had fostered a genuine connection. His actions, his tender gestures, had led me to believe that he had fallen in love with me.

How foolish I was to have been swayed by his impeccable acting, and his portrayal of a devoted husband.

George, ever the gentleman, adeptly played the role of a loving husband, masking his true feelings with grace. But now, it becomes clear to me that he had never truly let go of Megan.

His heart still yearns for her, despite the passing of time and the charade we have been living. He had merely fulfilled his responsibilities, adhering to the duties he deemed necessary.

The truth is a bitter pill to swallow, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. At this moment, I understand the depth of my own naivety.

I had hoped that perhaps, against all odds, I could ignite a spark within George's heart and become the one he truly loved. But it seems that destiny has other plans, firmly aligning George's affections with another.

I gaze at them, sharing a moment of nostalgic joy over a plate of pancakes. Their connection, unbroken by time and separation, is a painful reminder of the love that remains beyond my grasp.

I gather my strength, ready to face the reality that lies before me. I must find the courage to let go, to release myself from the grip of a love that was never truly mine. Swallowing my disappointment, I bury my own desires deep within my heart.

A sudden wave of morning sickness overwhelms me. With an urgent need to escape, I rush toward the bathroom.

"Vivian…" George's worried voice fills the air.

His concern rings hollow in my ears, tinged with a hint of hypocrisy.

"Are you okay?"

I take my time to answer him. Through my peripheral view, I can see him standing by the door.

"Why didn't you say you weren't feeling well?"

I manage to compose myself, rinsing my mouth with water.

"I am fine. It’s a minor issue. Perhaps, I ate something that wasn’t fresh enough." My response is calm, almost detached.

"I am taking you to the hospital," he says authoritatively.

"I am a doctor and capable of taking care of myself." I try to protest.

George, ever persistent, refuses to listen to my reassurances.

"You are coming with me and that’s final. Don’t make me repeat myself."

He pays no heed to my words, already heading towards the door with a resolute determination. It is as if his decision is final, leaving me with little say in the matter.

In the midst of our exchange, Megan stands there as a mere spectator to this unfolding scene.

George stops right beside her and says, "I am taking you to the mall first."

With that, he walks out the door.

His priorities are clear, and his agenda is already set. And within this whirlwind of events, I am left feeling like a passenger, my voice silenced, my wishes dismissed.

As George's footsteps fade in the distance, I am left standing there, grappling with a mix of emotions. Frustration intertwines with resignation; my thoughts are a jumble of conflicting feelings.

I sigh and stroll to the bedroom to bring my purse. When I come out, I spot Megan in the hall. A flicker of surprise dances within me as I wonder why she is still here instead of going out with George.

Her stern expression sends a chill down my spine, foreshadowing an impending confrontation.

Megan approaches me.

"Don't mistake George's polite gestures out of guilt for his love for you. You should know better." Her voice is dripping with coldness as she delivers her words with calculated precision.

I meet Megan's gaze unwaveringly, my indifference veiling the underlying emotions that swirl beneath the surface. I refuse to allow her assumptions and judgments to seep into my psyche.

"I am not misunderstanding anything. Rest assured, Megan."

I stand tall, my defenses fortified.

Megan's presence, her possessiveness—it all serves as a painful reminder that George's heart still lingers elsewhere, in a place that I cannot reach. But I refuse to let her belittlement diminish my resolve.

"You shouldn’t feel insecure when you believe in yourself."

I square my shoulders and walk out.

The delay in signing the divorce papers.

The shopping was done quickly. It seemed like George was rushing as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the mall.

I didn’t like to follow them like an outsider. So, I am relieved when we come out.

"Megan, I won’t be able to drop you home," George says. "Can you please take a taxi?"

This is surprising. I was not expecting him to say that. I anticipated that he would drop her off at her place first before taking me to the hospital.

Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded if he did that because I didn’t want to go for a check-up with him. But he actually asked Megan to leave on her own.

I curiously peer at her, who has a sullen look on her face.

Megan is certainly unhappy, and I know she is going to nag him to take her home first.

"It’s okay. I will take a taxi. You should look after Vivian."

I am stunned yet again. I can clearly tell that she is not happy, but she is smiling.

She is trying to show her empathy.

I don’t need that. I am irritated and too lazy to see all this drama, so I hop into the car.

George stops a taxi for her and opens the door for her. Megan hugs him before stepping in.

I watch them through the wing mirror, my heart aching. I realize he has canceled his plans with Megan because of me. Truly speaking, I don’t feel good. It gives me the impression that I am a third wheel, which I don’t want to be.

He gets into the car and starts driving.

The tension between us is palpable. I can't help but fidget with my fingers, a nervous energy coursing through me. The silence weighs heavily, suffocating the space between us. It's a stark reminder of the divide that has grown between us.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, I break it with an apology, my voice laced with remorse.

"I'm sorry, George. You had to cancel your plans with Megan because of me."

I can feel the weight of my presence burdening him.

"You don't need to feel sorry. Taking care of you is my responsibility. We are still married, after all."

His voice is gentle, and his expression is calm. But his response catches me off guard, his words carrying a different meaning than I anticipated.

For a moment, confusion clouds my mind.

Did he just imply that he was burdened by our marriage? That he resented the fact that we were still bound together?

The realization stings, and a mixture of hurt and resignation washes over me.

Summoning my strength, I respond with a measured tone, "Oh, I see. Well, there's no discrepancy in the divorce agreement. You can sign it whenever you want."

My words are steady and controlled as I try to maintain my composure.

But beneath my calm façade, a storm rages within me. The pain of our crumbling relationship lingers, with each passing moment a reminder of the love that once thrived between us.

"I won't forget to sign it, Vivian. You don't have to keep reminding me," he retorts, his tone filled with annoyance.

I feel my heart sink as George's voice grows louder, his frustration and impatience filling the air. I watch him closely, my eyes welling up with confusion and hurt.

His frustration seems to intensify as he continues to say, "There are other things going on right now. I have my grandmother's birthday coming up, and I need to focus on that first. You know how grandma’s condition is. Do I have to remind you that?"

His words make me even more puzzled. My mind races with questions, searching for answers. Why does his grandmother's birthday take precedence over our divorce?

I can't understand why he is avoiding the inevitable, especially when he has already started seeing someone else. It feels like he is keeping me in limbo, trapped in a state of uncertainty.

"But George," I protest, my voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and frustration, "our marriage is falling apart. Why can't we just finalize the divorce and move on with our lives?"

His eyes dim for a moment as if he is guilty. I don’t know. Why would he be guilty? Maybe I am too confused right now.

His expression hardens the next second.

"Trust me," he says, his tone tinged with impatience. "I'll sign the papers after my grandmother's birthday. Let's not talk about this right now."

A sense of unease settles within me. I can't shake the feeling that there is more to his reasons than he is letting on. The uncertainty gnaws at me, leaving me to wonder what George is truly hiding and why he is prolonging the inevitable.

As the car continues running, my mind grows more and more restless.

We finally arrive at the hospital.

My nerves escalate, anxiety coursing through my veins. I am on edge, fearing that the carefully guarded secret within me will be exposed to George. I can't let him know about the baby, especially when we are in the midst of ending our marriage. The mere thought of his reaction, the potential demands or judgments, sends shivers down my spine.

The doctor's eyes fixate on me, attentively listening as I recount the bouts of nausea and vomiting that have plagued me. I try to play it off, dismissing the symptoms as insignificant. But my facade crumbles in an instant as George interjects.

He brings up my delayed period, laying bare a piece of information I desperately wanted to keep hidden.

A wave of chills races down my spine, and I can't help but fear that he suspects the truth about my pregnancy. The room becomes heavy with unspoken tension, and I hold my breath, awaiting George's next words.

"You should undergo a test," he says.

"Yes, you should." The doctor also agrees with him.

Panic surges within me, leaving me feeling trapped and powerless against their insistence. Despite my fear and apprehension, I know I have no choice but to comply, to subject myself to the test I desperately wanted to avoid.

I nod, my face a canvas of mixed emotions—anxiety, resignation, and the weight of the unknown.

George continues to talk to the doctor as I leave for the test. My heart sinks as I contemplate how he will react. What am I going to do if he asks me to abort the child? Can he force me to do that?

If he doesn’t ask me for an abortion, he will surely take the baby from me.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I wasn’t aware when the nurse finished taking blood.

I come to the waiting area in a daze, but George is nowhere to be seen.

A small glimmer of hope sparks within me, suggesting that my secret remains intact, that he won't discover my pregnancy just yet. I push aside the question of why he left abruptly, choosing not to dwell on it for now. There are more pressing matters at hand.

Despite already knowing the likely outcome of the test, I patiently wait for the report. Every passing second feels like an eternity, with anticipation and unease coiling within me. Finally, the report is placed in my hands, its contents sealed within. I quickly tuck it away, intending to read it later when I have a moment to collect my thoughts.

Just as I'm about to head to my clinic, I receive his call. Without hesitation, I answer the call, eager to hear his voice and understand the reason behind his sudden departure from the hospital.

"Grandma’s BP shoots up. She is not happy with Megan. Can you come down to the mansion and check on her?" He asks seriously, his voice carrying a sense of urgency.

"Yes, I will be there shortly. But how…"

Before I can inquire about Grandmother's condition, he says, “Listen, Vivian. Things are not going well. I want you to put forward the divorce. I can’t tell Grandma that I want to marry Megan. She is already distressed and angry with Megan. But if you let her know that you want to end this marriage, things will be easy for us. I hope you can understand.”

I freeze in place, unable to process his words.

He sighs and continues, “I don’t want to delay any longer. It should be done before her birthday.”

The phone abruptly disconnects, leaving me startled and anxious.