Juliette

I should have known something was wrong when Damien didn’t come home that evening. Usually, no matter how late he worked, he always made it back earlier on the days of our anniversary. I would argue he shouldn't even be working on that day, but one thing I'd accepted about Damien was his dedication to his work. I wouldn't go as far as calling it obsession, but it was real close.

It wasn't like I didn't appreciate how hard he was working. The results were definitely there; he'd risen to the top in lesser time than anyone else had. I just wished he had more time for me, like he had in the beginning. I inhaled a deep breath, forcing myself to see the bright side of things. We were still together, and that was the most important thing.

My phone beeped and I picked it up, swiping my thumb across he screen. It was a text from him. 'Driver’s waiting downstairs. Wear something nice.' I stood in front of my dressing mirror for way too long, staring blankly at my phone screen as I tried to make sense of his text. He wasn't coming back home from work? I pressed my lips together.

Maybe he had something planned. A surprise. Maybe even a grand gesture of some sorts. Maybe he just wanted to make up for all the fights, all the cold silences piling up between us lately. I chose the red silk dress — the one he used to say made me look dangerous. I even curled my hair, applied lipstick I hadn’t worn in months. I needed tonight to mean something. I needed us to be us again.

The driver didn't say a word the whole ride. I kept glancing at my reflection in the window, forcing a smile I didn't quite feel. Damien always knew when something was wrong with me. He was just used to pretending he didn't now. The restaurant came into view after a few minutes. It wasn't a place we'd been to before, despite how expensive looking it was, and for a second my heart lifted. Maybe all the distance, all the bitterness — maybe tonight would melt it all away.

Maybe it had all been in my head.

I walked into the building, letting one of the waitresses lead me to his table, where he'd already made a reservation. We took a small turn, and there he was. Sitting perfectly still, his dark suit crisp, not a single hair out of place. He looked oddly put together for someone who had spent the entire day at work. I crossed the room toward him, my heels clicking against the marble floor a little louder than necessary.

"Happy anniversary," I said softly, sliding into the seat across from him and giving him a quick kiss on his lips. When he didn't kiss me back, I gave up pretending I couldn't sense something was wrong; letting my fake smile slip from my lips. He placed an envelope between us, as casually as setting down a napkin.

I blinked. "What’s this?"

"Open it," he said.

My stomach knotted before my fingers even touched it. Still, I obeyed, pulling the papers free. When I saw the bold black letters at the top—Petition for Dissolution of Marriage—I almost laughed, knowing it had to be some sick joke. He didn't laugh in return. "Damien," I said, barely audibly, "Is this some kind of prank?"

He wasn't moved. "Don’t pretend you didn’t see it coming."

I stared at him, willing him to crack, to smile, to say it wasn’t real. That he was only pulling my leg to make some other surprise he had planned but even harder. But all he did was sit there, cold and unbothered. This couldn't be happening. "Yes, we’ve been distant," I said carefully, swallowing hard. "But Damon, we love each other. We’ve been through worse. We can fix this. We just... we just need time."

He let out a breath like I was exhausting him.

"You’re living in a dream, Juliette. We’ve outgrown each other."

My heart splintered as panic clawed at my throat. "No." I shook my head fiercely. "I gave everything to you. I stood by you when you had nothing. I gave up—"

He cut me off. "I never asked you to."

That shut me up. My heart lurched, a sharp pain stabbing my chest. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening.

"You needed me," I said, my voice cracking. "You needed me to survive back then."

"And now I don’t," he said simply. Tears pricked the back of my eyes as I stared at the man who had promised to love ad be with me through thick and thin. "I need someone who fits my world. Someone who’s not..." His eyes swept over me. "Stuck." A single tear slid down my cheek, and I didn't bother wiping it away.

Damien was giving up on our marriage and it was like being gutted slowly with a dull knife. "You bastard," I whispered shakily. "None of what you have now would exist without me, without the sacrifices I'd made. I built this life with you." He stood up then, dropping a few bills on the table as though he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

"I didn't expect you to agree right away," he said. "But eventually you’ll come to your senses, and sign it." He didn’t look back as he left. Not once. I sat numbly in my chair, the restaurant spinning around me. The other diners laughed and drank, clinking glasses, oblivious to the storm going on inside of me. I sat glued to the chair until of the waiters politely asked if I needed anything to add to the untouched cocktail Damien had ordered for himself.

I almost laughed in his face.

What I needed was a time machine.

What I needed was a miracle.

What I needed was for someone to slap me awake from this nightmare. For Damien to come back and tell me this was all some kind of sick joke.

But all I had were divorce papers and a broken heart.