Weight of Words Untold

The day I decided to file for divorce, Dean Potter couldn't wait to draft the divorce agreement.

Five years ago, he had been forced to marry me, and now he was finally free.

On the day we were finalizing our divorce, Dean arrived with his new flame, radiating delight mixed with a hint of mockery. "Veronica Byrd, look at you—you're miserable."

I watched his figure fade into the distance, my vision blurring.

Miserable?

In the next life, it wouldn't happen again.

-

As I initiated the divorce, Dean stood before me, staring for what felt like an eternity, as if he were trying to bore a hole through me with his gaze.

It wasn't until I pulled out the divorce agreement and signed my name that he snapped out of it, his fingers tracing over the document, glancing at it repeatedly.

I knew he must have found it hard to believe that I, the woman he had been entangled with for five years, was the one initiating the divorce.

After a long silence, he tossed the agreement aside, a barely perceptible smirk playing on his lips. "I don't understand this. I'll need to consult my legal team."

I tightened my grip on the pen and replied firmly, "You don't need to. I'm walking away with nothing."

His tone shifted, displeased. "How do I know you won't try to pull something?"

I looked him in the eye and suddenly remembered that night five years ago; he had held onto that grudge all this time.

But after all these years, he should know best what kind of person I am.

With a decisive gesture, I threw the pen aside and settled into my chair.

"Fine, I'll wait for you to revise the agreement before I come back."

With that, I started to rise to leave.

He blocked my path, preventing me from leaving.

"Just wait here; it won't take long."

He seemed eager to cut ties with me, moving swiftly to the door and disappearing from sight.

I collapsed onto the couch in the quiet office, recalling what the doctor had told me.

Late-stage leukemia—there might not even be a chance for a bone marrow transplant.

I sighed, watching where he had vanished, and wondered if he truly cared at all.

Blood filled my nostrils, and I wiped my nose, but there were still stains. I hastily pressed a tissue to my face, almost emptying Dean's box of tissues in the process.

Thank goodness no one was around to see.

Before long, Dean returned with a new divorce agreement in hand.

Seeing me with my head tilted back, still trying to stop the bleeding, he looked surprised. "What are you doing?"

I quickly tossed the tissue in the trash and composed myself as I sat down.

As I took the agreement from him, I noticed a new clause he had added at the end: everything that wasn't mine had to remain, including jewelry, clothes, and shoes—none of which I had ever laid claim to.

I knew who those items were meant for, and I had never dreamed of taking them for myself.

I signed my name hastily and handed it back to Dean.

He inspected it thoroughly before saying, "Veronica, I hope you mean what you say. I don't want to see you again."

I understood how much he despised me.

In the five years we had been married, he had never spared me a second glance.

I glanced at that familiar silhouette waiting by the door and nodded slightly.

This should be the last time.

During my five years with Dean, I rarely acquired new things. The jewelry and clothes he bought remained untouched by me. After signing the divorce papers, I only took a bag with a few changes of clothes when I left.

Now, I felt like a homeless person. After much deliberation, I finally dialed my brother, Fred Byrd's, number.

Truth be told, I had a home, five years ago—a loving set of parents and a gentle elder brother.

I hadn't contacted Fred in a long time, and the phone rang for ages before someone picked up.

His voice was laced with irritation. "What do you want?"

I paused, feeling an unexpected wave of vulnerability.

"Fred, I want to come home."

After what felt like an eternity, Fred replied, "We can talk about it when you get back."

To reach home, I had to navigate a narrow path that was shrouded in darkness, void of any light. In my hazy state, I caught a glimpse of Fred's familiar figure making his way down the path. He knew I was afraid of the dark and had come to guide me home.

I reached out my hand, but the figure vanished again, leaving me standing alone on that dim path.

I couldn't remember the last time Fred had come to fetch me like this.

Pushing through the fear, I finally made it home.

Upon entering the living room, I found Fred sitting there, his expression grim. Before I could settle in, he angrily tossed a stack of papers at me. I picked them up and examined them closely; they were contracts for projects that had been canceled.

"Is this your doing?"

I didn't argue back. It seemed that the moment Dean and I divorced, he informed Fred and then used this as a means to retaliate against the Byrds.

"Veronica, did you not think this would happen after you schemed your way into Dean's bed?

"Now that he's discarded you, you think you can just waltz back into the Byrds? Do we owe you something?

"Our family is going to be destroyed because of you!"

Fred's eyes were red, his emotions spiraling out of control.

In five years, this was the most he had ever said to me; he was finally venting his feelings.

I knew he had held resentment toward me all this time, but these past five years hadn't been easy for anyone.

I held back my tears, and when that stack of papers hit me, I felt a familiar dizzying sensation wash over me, snapping me back to reality.

I pressed my nose tightly, relieved when no blood flowed out.

Once Fred calmed down, I spoke.

"I will repay whatever I owe to the Byrds to the best of my ability."

With my illness, I had no idea how much time I had left. But before I would die, I intended to make things right.

Fred scrutinized me, as if he had just heard a joke. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Then he suddenly remembered something.

"Dean has a dinner meeting with those business partners tonight. Come with me to see him; maybe he can help."

"We're divorced," I replied.

"Then tell me, how are you going to help? Right now, only the Potters can save us!"

Before I could respond, Fred had already gathered the contracts and was pulling me out the door.

I hadn't anticipated running into Dean so soon after our separation.