ISABELLE
He was late again.
I sat perfectly still on the dining table in our high rise penthouse which overlooked the busy streets of New York. An untouched bottle of wine stood beside the crystal glasses I had put out. Dinner sat untouched and the salmon was getting colder by the minute.
I looked at the golden clock which had been keeping me company for the past hour with it's ticking. It was 11pm and Thomas wasn't home yet.
It would be a lie to say I was surprised but I was willing to forgive him as always. After all, it was our first wedding anniversary.
I straightened my deep Burgundy gown with a smile on my face. It was the same gown I was wearing the day he proposed to me. That day, he whispered in my ears how the colour complemented my tan skin. I had worn this dress with hope that it would remind him of how we used to be. Of us.
The elevator chimed and I sat up straight, heart tightening with foolish hope, only for it to shatter the moment he came in.
His tie was loosened and his hair looked ruffled as though someone had ran their hands through it severally. I knew he had been with someone and judging from the unfamiliar sweetness that was mixed with his scent, it was a woman.
He didn't look at the table or the effort I had put in to make this whole night a success, instead he walked past me and dropped his keys on the glass coffee table and headed straight for the liquor table.
"Thomas," I said quietly.
He sighed and poured himself a glass of bourbon. "Isabelle,"he said with irritation in his voice. Something I had grown accustomed to hearing anytime he said my name. "…don't start,"
"Start what? A conversation?," I asked as I walked toward him whilst trying to steady my voice. "It's our first wedding anniversary,"
He took another sip and smacked his lips. "Business ran late,"
"You should have called me. I would have…,"
"I didn't think I needed to call. You don't understand how these things go," he replied, cutting me off.
I blinked in disbelief. What was he trying to say?
"Do I still matter for you to think at all?,"
He slammed his glass on the counter and turned to face me. "You know that, let's just cut the bullshit and stop pretending like this is working,"
His words hit me like a slap.
Every marriage had their ups and downs and ours wasn't any different and I was determined to make things work. However, his next actions crippled my thoughts.
I watched as he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick white envelope with gold embroidered letter headings with our names printed across the front.
Divorce papers.
I didn't move. Couldn't breathe. For a moment, my world stopped and it was though my heart stopped beating just to avoid breaking.
"Is this because of her?," I asked in a whisper. "Victoria Pierce?,"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
"I saw the photos, Thomas. Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I'm stupid? The late nights? The change in your scent?," My voice trembled but I refused to let the tears fall.
He walked past me and slapped the papers on the dining table I had carefully arranged. The dinner, the wine, the lit candles all looked like a bad joke.
"I'm doing what's best for me," he said as he popped the wine that was supposed to commerate our one year as a couple. "Victoria's father owns major shares in Pierce Capital. Marrying her just makes sense. It's power,"
"And what were we?," I asked with a shaky voice. I already knew the answer but I wanted to hear him say it. Almost like a dare.
"Comfortable," he said almost immediately. "Predictable and safe. Don't get me wrong Isabelle, you were a good wife but you have never fit into the image of a CEO's wife,"
My hands curled into fist.
"Thomas, I sacrificed everything for you," I said in anger. "My job, my identity. I sat beside you in silence while you climbed the ladder of success. I shrank to make room for your ego. I gave you my loyalty and every damn thing!,"
"It wasn't enough!," he shouted back. "You never challenged me. You never stepped into the spotlight.You just say there nodding and smiling all the time….like a dutiful housewife and I am sick of it,"
I gasped at his words. "You never made room for me. You took the spotlight for yourself. Do you remember what you told me after the miscarriage? You said I should let you handle things. You told me to leave my job!,"
He turned away from me and sighed. "Just sign the damn papers. I'll make sure you are taken care off,"
That was it. No Apology. No explanation. No trace of the man I loved since high school.
I suddenly realized that he had made this decision a long time ago and I was just learning of it.
The silence between us was deafening as I watched his face for a glimpse of remorse but I saw none. All that was left on his face was irritation as he pushed away the cold salmon as though it disgusted him.
I took in a deep breath, walked to the table and collected the pen he had left on the envelope and opened the envelope with steady hands.
name was already printed in bold type, reduced to a line on a legal form. He had prepared everything without me. It was already filed in his mind. Over. Done.
"Isabelle…," he started but I didnt look at him.
I signed.
In cursive. Firm.
Not out of defeat, but because I was done begging to be seen.
I pressed the pen down and closed the envelope, sliding it across to him neatly across the table.
"There," I said coldly. "Now we are aligned,"
Thomas looked surprised. For the first time in months, he actually looked at me. Really looked.
But it was too late.
"You know," I said, "I thought I was the weak one. The quiet one. But the truth is, I was the one holding everything together."
He said nothing.
I stepped back from the table, the weight in my chest slowly shifting. No longer grief. Something heavier and stronger.
It was resolve.
"I hope she's worth it," I whispered. "I hope she makes you feel powerful. Because someday, when you see my name in headlines and you realize what you threw away, I want you to remember tonight. The night you didn't just lose a wife. You lost the one woman who never needed to prove her worth. Only to herself."
His face tightened, but he stayed quiet.
Good. Let the silence settle where I used to be.
I walked to the elevator without looking back, leaving all I had behind.
As the doors slid shut, I caught a glimpse of him still standing there, drink in hand, the divorce envelope between us like a wall he built and I chose not to climb anymore.
I didn't cry on the way down.
I didn't scream.
I stood tall.
Because Lucas may have thrown me away like I was nothing but soon, the world would know exactly who Isabelle Valen really was.
And he?
He was going to learn that some women don't just walk away.
They rise.
They rebuild.
And they ruin.