“Damn you, Ezekiel,” I breathed out, barely holding it in.

I stared at those pictures of them in that restaurant, smiling like two people stupidly in love. Like they hadn’t just destroyed everything. Like they didn’t tear apart a marriage. Like I never mattered.

I could barely breathe from the pain I felt right now. I bit down on my lower lip so hard just to keep myself from crying. I promised myself that I won’t cry anymore. Not for him.

A few hours after I was discharged from the hospital, I hailed a taxi and told the driver to drive me to Hart’s State.

Not our home. That word doesn’t belong there anymore. It was just a place now, a place where I burned quietly, over and over, until I had nothing left. This time, I wasn’t going there to fight or beg. I just wanted to pack what was mine and leave. With whatever pieces of dignity I had left.

When I got there, the door wasn’t even locked. I walked in.

And there they were.

Ezekiel and Celeste. Kissing. Like I was already dead.

He gently pushed her, obviously shocked to see me. But she clung to his arm like a parasite, refusing to let go.

I didn’t flinch. I walked toward them slowly, chin up, fake smile on. I saw the way Celeste looked at me like I was interrupting something that belonged to her. She crossed her arms like she was claiming Ezekiel.

“Why are you still here?” she asked, her voice sharp, annoyed.

“I’m still his wife,” I said firmly. “I have every right to be in this house. This was our home once.”

Then I looked at her, dead in the eyes.

“And you? Who exactly are you in my husband’s life?”

She smiled smugly, like she couldn’t wait for this part. “I’m his girlfriend,” she said. “And soon to be his wife.”

I laughed bitterly. “Does it hurt to accept the reality?”

She glared. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

“You’re his mistress,” I said with a forced smile. “That’s all you are.”

She snapped. “You..!

She lunged at me, but Ezekiel held her back.

“Stop it, Celeste. Let her go,” he said, without even looking in my direction. “She’s nothing compared to you, sweetheart”

And just like that, my whole body went numb.

I stood there, blinking, not because I was surprised but because I finally saw it. The real him. Cruel. Empty. Cold.

“I just want to get my things,” I said, voice steady.

He nodded, pulled out an envelope from the drawer, and handed me a pen.

“Sign this first.”

Divorce papers.

I stared at them, heart pounding so loud I could barely think. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to ask how he could betray me that easily. After everything. After I swallowed every word his mother said just to keep the peace and stay with him.

But I said nothing.

I took the pen, signed my name, handed it back.

“Done. Can I go now?”

As I turned to walk toward the guest room, I heard footsteps on the stairs.

Diana.

Dragging my luggage like it was trash. She dropped it by my feet, arms crossed, and face full of that proud little smirk she always wore in front of me.

“Your things are ready,” she said, too sweet. “You can leave now.”

I stared at her. My fists clenched at my sides. She looked like she was enjoying every second of it.

I swallowed hard, blinked away the sting in my eyes, and grabbed my suitcase handle.

I looked at her one last time and said, quiet but firm, “Someday, you’ll regret this.”

Her face twitched, barely. But she turned away like she didn’t care.

I didn’t wait for anyone else to speak. I walked out the door and didn’t look back.

I dragged my suitcase along the sidewalk, hailed a taxi, and got in.

The ride was silent. I stared out the window, trying to breathe, trying not to fall apart. I didn’t even know where to go. I told the driver to stop at the nearest coffee shop.

I just needed a place to sit. To think. To exist.

I ordered a cup of coffee, sat by the window.

But as soon as I brought the cup near my face, the smell hit me and my stomach turned.

I pushed it away, covered my mouth. I felt like I was going to throw up.

What the hell? I loved coffee. It used to calm me down. Now it made me sick?

No. That can’t be.

I just came from the hospital. Ezekiel told me I wasn’t pregnant. They would’ve told me… right?

I stood up, dizzy and overwhelmed, my hands shaking. I needed air. I needed to think. I stepped outside and raised my hand to call another taxi.

That’s when a black SUV pulled up beside me.

The window rolled down.

“Isa!” a voice called.

I froze.

Lila.

She jumped out, rushing toward me. Her face was full of happiness.

“Thank God I found you,” she said, holding my hand like she used to when we were kids.

“Lila?” I whispered.

She nodded. “Please Come home. Aunt needs you.”

Home.

That word used to suffocate me. Now it felt like air.

I didn’t say anything at first. I just stared at her and she didn’t rush me. She just held my hand.

“I don’t know how to face her,” I whispered. “I left. I disobey her. All for a love that wasn’t even real.”

“You were chasing what felt real,” she said softly. “We all believed in it too. Even your mom. She just wanted you to be happy.”

My chest tightened.

“She never stopped praying for you,” she added. “Not even once.”

Tears welled up before I could stop them.

“Really?” I asked, voice barely there.

She nodded. Her eyes were full of love and sadness all at once.

“She just wanted you to be okay.”

“I’m so very guilty,” I said, breaking. “I want to see her, Lila. I badly want to hug her.”

Lila hesitated, then looked away for a second. Her voice dropped.

“She’s been sick, Isa.”

My heart sank.

“What do you mean?”

She looked back at me. Quiet. Still.

“She’s dying.”

And somehow, that truth hurt more than everything Ezekiel ever did.