6
That very night, Claire moved into the Downtown Loft that Ryan and I had shared.
She even recorded a video and sent it to me.
Every word she spoke in the video dripped with pride and smugness.
Without a flicker of emotion, I took screenshots of her messages, packaged them neatly, and sent them to Ryan’s email. I scheduled them to go out two days later.
Ryan and I had agreed to meet the next day to finalize our divorce.
I planned to sever all ties with him before showing him Claire’s true colors. I wanted him to regret it, to suffer.
He owed me that much.
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The next morning, Ryan showed up as promised.
He stood by the window, his face solemn as he took a work call.
I was the only one standing in line for the divorce.
Maybe it was because there were too many people in the crowded space, but I started feeling lightheaded, my breath becoming short, and pain flared in my abdomen, sharp enough to make me want to scream.
Just as I was about to call for Ryan, Claire appeared in front of me, wearing a mask and hat.
“Nina, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling sick?”
Her words sounded concerned, but her eyes were full of mockery.
“Wow, you really are quite the actress. State–level ballerina, huh? Playing the sickly wife just as you’re about to finalize the divorce… who are you trying to fool?”
No one knew better than Claire that I wasn’t faking it.
She said this only to provoke me, hoping I would hit her, giving Ryan an excuse to hate me and leave me on the spot.
But her plan failed.
12:31 PM
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195
I could barely breathe as the pain wracked my body, my face drained of all color as I clutched my abdomen and crouched to the floor.
People around us quickly noticed, and it didn’t take long for them to start hurling insults at Claire.
“Look at her! This mistress has the nerve to show up at the County Clerk’s Office to force a divorce? Shameless!”
“If she had any self–respect, she wouldn’t be a homewrecker. She should be exposed online!”
“Exactly! Let’s find out who her parents are–who raises someone like this?”
I couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh.
The crude insults actually felt kind of satisfying.
Claire couldn’t take the heat and practically fled.
By the time Ryan finally made it over, everything had calmed down.
Except for the dirty looks people were throwing at him.
Not that it mattered to him–Ryan had always been the type who didn’t care about anyone’s opinion.
Naturally, I said nothing.
When it came time to sign the divorce papers, Ryan hesitated, holding the pen.
I sneered, “Second thoughts? You wouldn’t want people to think you’re having regrets.”
The man behind us in line, clearly impatient, grumbled, “Come on, man, hurry up. There’s a whole line of people waiting.”
With red–rimmed eyes, Ryan finally signed his name.
The moment I held the divorce certificate in my hand, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
It was like I had let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Even death didn’t seem so terrifying anymore.
Outside the Cook County Clerk’s Office, Ryan and I didn’t exchange another glance.
We simply turned our backs to each other and walked away.
