Sarah Martinez, my divorcewyer, sits across from me, her kind eyes studying my face as I finish exining my situation. “Mrs. ke, I’m afraid this is going to be a difficult case. Thews that govern our state make divorce impossible during pregnancy. This protects expecting mothers from worrying about their next meal or where they’ll sleep. But for women desperate to separate from their husbands, it can be restricting. The court will not process your divorce application until your baby is born.” I ce my hands on my belly, feeling the baby’s gentle movements. “I can’t wait that long. Is there another way?” She nods, pulling out a legal pad. “Given that your husband’s education was funded by your family, and considering the circumstances of your marriage arrangement, we have several options. You’re entitled to significantpensation. However, the divorce must wait until the baby is born.” Two hourster, I walk out with a thick stack of papers tucked in my purse and a strange sense of freedom I haven’t felt in years. For the first time sincest night, I can breathe properly. Though I can’t divorce now, I can still leave him. My phone buzzes with another text from Jasper. The fifth one today. We need to talk. Come home. Home. Iugh bitterly as I drive toward our house—or what used to feel like home. Now it’s just the ce where I sleep next to a stranger who calls me dramatic for wanting basic respect. The driveway is empty when I arrive. Good. I need to pack without him hovering over me, making excuses, or worse—bringing Virginia over to “exin” things. I climb the stairs to our bedroom, my movements slow and careful. The baby’s been more active today, probably sensing my stress. “It’s okay, little one,” I whisper, rubbing my belly. “Mama’s going to take care of you.” I pull my suitcases from the closet and start folding each piece of clothing with the same care I’ve always given to everything in this house, this marriage, this life that was never really mine to begin with. The modest dresses I wore hoping he’d notice me. The silk scarves I carefully arranged each morning, thinking today might be the day he’dpliment how I looked. The lingerie I bought hoping to spark something between us. The maternity clothes I picked out imagining him touching my belly, talking to our baby. All of it means nothing now. As the reality of my decision sinks in, I feel something I haven’t felt in years—relief, with a strange sense of freedom. Stuffing my suitcase under the bed, I crawl under the nket and drift off to sleep. I don’t notice when Jasper returns, or if he returns at all. When I wake up in the morning, he’s already gone. I finish packing what else remains of my belongings. When footsteps echo up the stairs, I know without checking that he’s back. Finally, this confrontation is about to happen. My heart still does its stupid flutter when I hear him enter the room, even though I know better now. He’ll never love me the way I’ve loved him all these years. “What are you doing?” He asks, his voice carrying the familiar note of irritation. I don’t look up. “Dragging my suitcase.” “I can see that.” He steps into the room, his presence filling up the space. “The question is why.” “Because I’m leaving.” The wordse out steadier than I feel. “I want a divorce, Jasper.” Silence. The tension in the room is thick. So thick in fact, that for a second, I doubt if he heard me. I raise my head, intending to repeat myself, when I find him staring at me with an expression I can’t quite read—surprise mixed with something that looks almost like amusement. “A divorce.” He says it like I’ve told him I want to fly to the moon. “Scarlett, you spent thest seven years building your life around me. Can you even walk away?” The cruelty of his words, the casual way brought up the years I’ve spent loving him… If my heart wasn’t already broken, I would probably be feeling more than numb right now. “Watch me,” I say, picking up my suitcase. “Scarlett.” His voice softens, taking on that patient note he uses when he thinks I’m being hysterical. “You’re upset about Virginia, I get it. I shouldn’t have kept it from you. But you can’t just throw away our marriage because of some misunderstanding.” “Misunderstanding?” Iugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You knew she was my biological sister and you hid it from me as if I’m the other woman. Now do tell, what exactly am I misunderstanding here?” “I was trying to protect you—” “No.” I hold up my hand to stop him. “You were doing—” Car doors m outside, and we both freeze. Through the window, I can see my parents getting out of their ck sedan, their faces grim with determination. “Great,” I mutter. “Just what I need.” Within minutes, my parents are in our living room, and the tension is so thick I can barely breathe. My Mama’s eyes are red-rimmed like she’s been crying, while my Baba stands with his arms crossed, looking like he’s here to negotiate a business deal. “Scarlett, sweetheart,” Mama begins, her voice pleading. “We need to talk about this. You can’t just leave your husband. You’re about to have a baby.” “A baby that doesn’t share your DNA,” I say, and she flinches like I’ve pped her. “That doesn’t matter,” she insists. “You’re still our daughter. We raised you, we love you—” “Enough.” Baba’s voice cuts her off. “If Scarlett wants to leave, let her leave. She’ll be back within a week when she realizes what the real world is like.” The dismissive tone he uses makes my chest tighten with anger and hurt. “I won’t be back.” “Of course you will. You’ve never worked a day in your life. How will you raise a baby on your own?” The casual way Baba says it makes me realize for the first time that somewhere along the way, I let myself bepletely dependent on people who see that dependence as a way to control me. Because there’s truth in what he’s saying. I am financially dependent. I haven’t worked a day since getting out of college. I lived a sheltered life within these four walls that now feel like a prison cage. But even if I am helpless, I’m not a coward. I realize now how stupid it was to settle down straight out of college. And I refuse to stay the same, to let fear keep me trapped, and at their whim for the rest of my life. “You’re right, Baba,” I say, surprising everyone in the room. “I will struggle, because it will be hard. I still choose to leave, though, because this isn’t my home anymore. This family…this isn’t my family anymore. And I refuse to pretend it is.” I look at Jasper, hoping to see some flicker of emotion in his eyes. Some sign that he wants to fight for us. Instead, he watches me with that same cold, amused expression, like he’s waiting to see a show. “Go ahead. Just don’te running back to me when you regret thister.” He snorts and walks away, heading upstairs. I can barely breathe, a lump lodging in my throat. How is it possible for my heart to ache so bad when I’ve already decided to let him go? His words shouldn’t hurt me this much. They shouldn’t. But they do. I close my eyes and spit out, “Expect the divorce papers within the next two to three months,” and walk out of the house, dragging my suitcase, my legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. Behind me, I hear my Mama sobbing, and my Baba’s cold voice, saying he would like to see how long I canst. A strange, frightening emptiness engulfs me, threatening to consume me whole. I load my car with mechanical precision, my movements automatic. The drive to Chloe’s apartment passes in a blur of tears and shaking hands. By the time I’m standing at her door with my suitcases, I’m barely holding myself together. She takes one look at me and pulls me inside without a word. I copse onto her couch, finally falling apart. “I left him,” I sob. “I actually left him.” “I’m so proud of you, habibiti.” She holds me while I cry, her hand stroking my hair like my mother used to do when I was little. “I know it must’ve been hard. But I promise, the first step is always the hardest. It’ll only get easier from here.” “They expect me to return,” I hup. “They think I’m too weak, too dependent to make it on my own.” “Are you?” she asks gently. I pull back to look at her, surprised by the question. “I… I don’t know. Maybe. But I have to try, don’t I? I can’t raise my baby in that environment.” “Then you have your answer.” She squeezes my hand. “And you won’t be doing it alone. I’ll help you however I can.” The kindness in her voice makes me cry harder, “I don’t know where to start.” “Then we’ll figure it out together,” she promises. “One step at a time.” That night, Iy awake in her guest room, staring at the ceiling. The baby moves restlessly, as if sensing my turmoil. I ce both hands on my belly and make a silent promise. “I will never let anyone make you feel the way they made me feel,” I whisper into the darkness. “You will always be precious, loved exactly as you are, and I will make sure you never have to settle for less than you deserve.” My phone buzzes with a text message, and my heart leaps, thinking it might be Jasper. Hoping against hope that he’s realized what he’s lost and wants us back. But it’s not from Jasper. It’s from Virginia. Heard you finally grew a spine and left. Don’t worry, sis, I’ll take good care of Jasper while you’re gone. Sweet dreams. – V My blood runs cold, when another message follows. PS – Hope you saved some money for a goodwyer. Something tells me custody battles can get expensive. Especially when one parent has no job, no money, and no family support. But I’m sure you’ll figure it out. xoxo I stare at the screen, my hands trembling so badly I can barely hold the phone. They’re going to try to take my baby? Over my dead body!<f83> ?? ??? ???? ?? ???? ???? ???????s, ????s? ??s?? find?novel</f83>