The rain was supposed to stop hours ago.
But it kept falling—cold, punishing, like the sky had decided to mourn with me.
"Sign the papers, Ava." Ethan's voice was low, clipped, each word sharp enough to cut skin.
I stared at the divorce agreement on the glass table, the ink already smudged from my trembling fingers. My chest hurt—not from the cold, but from the man standing across from me. The man I had once crossed oceans for. The man who now looked at me like I was a stranger he couldn't wait to be rid of.
"Ethan…" My voice cracked. "We can fix this. Just—"
"There's nothing to fix." His eyes—once warm enough to melt my fears—were now carved from ice. "I don't love you anymore. I never did. This marriage was a mistake."
The words hit harder than the thunder outside. I swallowed, tasting blood where I'd bitten my lip.
He didn't even wait for my reply. He reached into his jacket, pulled out his phone, and started typing, dismissing me like a meeting that had run overtime.
I wanted to scream. To tell him about the life growing inside me.
But my voice died in my throat.
Because in that moment, I realized the truth—he didn't want me.
And if I told him, he might not want the baby either.
So I signed.
The pen felt heavy, the ink dark and final. And when I slid the papers back across the table, Ethan didn't even look at me.
Minutes later, I was standing outside in the rain with nothing but my coat, my purse, and a taxi receipt.
By morning, I'd be gone from New York City.
And he'd never know he'd just thrown away more than a wife—he'd thrown away his own child.