My chest tightened until it hurt, my face drained of color. The air-conditioning kept the temperature steady, yet I felt as if I were trapped in an ice cave.
Jeremy's eyes lingered on me before he finally spoke again, his tone calm, almost righteous.
"Adel's mother's health is failing. Her only wish is to see Adel taken care of. She needs me by her side. Just stay in your place as Mrs. Gillian and don't cause trouble. I won't bother you."
I froze. His words twisted through me like knives. He wouldn't bother me. That was how he framed his betrayal.
Then, suddenly, I laughed—bitter and sharp, startling even myself.
"If she needs you so much, then you really shouldn't be here with me."
I turned, climbed the stairs, and slammed the bedroom door shut behind me.
Minutes later, I heard the low rumble of his car engine fade into the night. He hadn't hesitated. Straight back to her.
Exhausted, I stumbled into the bathroom. Cold water splashed across my face, stinging my skin, shocking my thoughts into clarity.
Enough.
I opened my laptop and found Ahmed Maktoob's number—a lawyer I'd met three years ago. My voice was steady when I asked him to draft a divorce agreement.
"Mrs. Gillian, do you have specific requests? The house, the car, division of assets…?"
I paused. My lips curved in a faint, tired smile.
"I don't want anything."
Why would I? I didn't want Jeremy, so what use were his things? The less I asked for, the faster this nightmare would end.
Ahmed agreed and sent me the draft within the hour. My hands trembled as I printed it, but I didn't hesitate. The pen cut across the page, my name spilling like blood.
It was over.
I packed lightly—only what mattered, nothing that tied me to this place. Standing at the door, I gave the house one last glance. Three years of devotion, care, and patience—all wasted.
Without another word, I stepped out.
And I didn't look back.
The next morning, I filed for a leave of absence.
By noon, a same-day courier was on his way to Skylight Corporation, carrying a slim envelope with my name on it. Divorce papers.
I hadn't delivered them myself. For something "minor," Jeremy always pushed it onto others. So I did the same—Jason, his secretary, would be the one to hand them over.
For three years, I had worked at Skylight too. PR manager. The one cleaning up scandals, smoothing headlines, crafting the perfect image for a man who would never claim me. He made me promise never to approach him at the office. Our marriage was a secret, hidden behind glass walls and polite smiles.
And I had obeyed. Every day. Without fail.
I'd built a spotless record: no absences, no mistakes, not even a sick day. Perfection was my armor, even if the job meant nothing to me.
But now? Now I was done.
I glanced at the clock. Exactly 12 p.m.
By the time Jeremy opened that envelope, he would know.
That I was no longer Mrs. Gillian.
That I no longer belonged in his shadows.
I clenched my fists on the steering wheel. No—today wasn't about Jeremy, or Skylight, or even the divorce.
I had something more important to do.
The County Prison gates loomed ahead, heavy and cold. My palms were slick with sweat as I tightened my grip. It had been a year. A year since I last saw Simon Gillian.
Jeremy's uncle. The Gillian family's adopted son.
My senior in university.
The only man in that house who had ever treated me with kindness.
Simon had always shielded me in quiet, unshakable ways. While Jeremy gave me ice, Simon gave me warmth. He had promised me once: while others may be disappointed in you, I never will.
I stared at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My face was pale, illness hollowing out my features. Quickly, I dusted blush onto my cheeks, forcing a bit of life into them. A painkiller dulled the ache in my body, and sunglasses with a wide-brimmed hat hid the rest. He didn't need to see my weakness today.
The prison gates creaked open.
And then—he appeared.
A tall man in black, carrying nothing but an old backpack. His stride was steady, confident. His hair was cropped short, his shoulders broader than I remembered. His piercing gaze swept the crowd, cutting through it—searching.
The air lodged in my throat. My chest tightened.
Before I realized it, my feet were moving, carrying me forward. My eyes stung, my breath caught.
"Simon…" I whispered, almost breaking.