The courthouse was quiet, sterile. Daniel sat in one of the metal chairs, back straight, hands resting calmly on his knees. He had arrived early—on purpose. He wanted time to breathe, to be alone with the silence before she arrived.
He wasn't nervous. Not anymore.
Pain, once so loud, had dulled over the past few days into something like acceptance. Not peace. Not yet. But acceptance.
He watched people pass in and out of the chambers—some with cold glares, others with soft goodbyes, and a few with bitterness sharp in their voices. Divorce looked different for everyone. For Daniel, it looked like stillness.
Then the door creaked open behind him, and she entered.
Leah.
She wore a soft beige coat and a faint touch of makeup, like she had made an effort, but not too much. As if unsure whether this moment warranted formality or mourning.
Daniel turned as she approached. He gave her a slight nod, his face unreadable.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
That was it.
She sat beside him, leaving a respectful distance. She glanced at him from time to time, hoping for something—recognition, warmth, even anger. But there was nothing.
His eyes were distant. He looked… older. Not physically, but emotionally. Like someone who had seen too much and learned to stop hoping.
It hurt her in a way she hadn't prepared for.
Leah cleared her throat gently. "I didn't think you'd actually go through with it. Part of me thought… maybe you'd cool down. Maybe we'd talk."
Daniel's gaze didn't shift. "I cooled down. That's why I'm here."
She flinched.
There was a long silence.
"I read the file," she said finally. "The evidence. The photos. The call logs."
Daniel didn't respond.
"I didn't know you'd… followed me."
"I didn't," he said simply. "I saw what I saw. That was enough."
She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers nervously. "I'm sorry. For everything. I—" Her voice broke. "I don't even have an excuse. I just wanted something exciting. And I don't know why I thought… that was worth it."
Daniel stayed quiet.
Tears welled in her eyes. "I ruined us."
He didn't contradict her.
"I would do anything to fix this," she whispered. "I'll leave my job, become a housewife, anything you want. I just want a second chance. You were always there for me. I see that now. I was stupid. I was selfish."
Daniel finally turned to look at her. Not harshly. Not even coldly. Just… steady.
"I don't want to punish you, Leah. That's not why we're here," he said softly. "But what's broken… it can't be undone. You're sorry now, and maybe that's genuine. But I can't force myself to feel something that's no longer there."
She stared at him, her face crumpling.
"I waited for you," he said quietly. "Waited through the late nights, through the distance, through the excuses. I gave you space. I gave you trust. I gave you love. And you gave it away."
"I know," she sobbed.
"I don't hate you," he continued. "But I can't build a future on ashes. If we stayed together, it would be out of guilt, not love. You'd always be trying to prove something, and I'd always be wondering if I was just a second choice."
She shook her head violently, tears streaming. "You were never second. I swear, you weren't—"
"But I felt like it," he interrupted, voice firm. "I felt like I wasn't enough. That's something I won't feel again."
She covered her face with her hands, quietly crying.
Their names were called.
The legal procedure was mechanical. A formality. A few lines, a couple of signatures, and that was it.
Marriage dissolved.
When they stepped outside, the sky was clear, the breeze warm. The city carried on like nothing had changed.
But for Leah, everything had.
Daniel stood with his hands in his pockets, looking out at the street. He looked… free. Not happy. Not yet. But no longer burdened.
"I hope you find peace," she said softly, trying to smile through her tears.
He looked at her with calm eyes. "And I hope you find yourself."
They stood in silence for a few moments. Just two people who once promised forever, now only strangers bound by memory.
Then he turned and walked away.
Leah stood there until she could no longer see him, and even then, she didn't move.
Because it was over.
And for the first time, she truly felt it.