NADIA'S POV
I stare at the divorce papers on my kitchen counter. My signature is already there, neat and final. Jeff's signature sits next to mine, bold and careless like everything else he does.
It's done. Five years of marriage, gone. Just like that.
My phone buzzes. It's my lawyer confirming the papers have been filed. I should feel something - relief, sadness, anger. Instead, I feel empty. Like someone carved out my insides and left me hollow.
The penthouse feels too big without him. Even though he was barely here the last year, his absence feels different now. Permanent.
I pour myself a glass of wine, the expensive kind Jeff loved. The kind I pretended to like because it made him happy. God, how much of myself did I lose trying to make him happy?
My phone rings. Mom.
"Nadia, sweetheart, I heard. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Mom." The lie comes easily. I've been telling it for months.
"You should come stay with us for a while. Get away from the city."
"I can't. I have work." Another lie. I quit my job three months ago when Jeff said we should try for a baby. What a joke that turned out to be.
After I hang up, I walk to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city sparkles below, beautiful and cold. Somewhere out there, Jeff is probably celebrating his freedom. Probably with her - Scarlett, his business partner who was always more than just business.
I found the texts two months ago. The photos. The hotel receipts. When I confronted him, he didn't even deny it. Just shrugged and said, "What did you expect, Nadia? You knew who I was when you married me."
But I didn't. I thought I was marrying the man who brought me flowers every Friday. Who stayed up all night when I had food poisoning. Who promised me forever in front of three hundred guests.
The doorbell rings, interrupting my pity party. I'm not expecting anyone.
I open the door to find a delivery man holding a huge bouquet of red roses. My heart skips. Did Jeff...?
"Nadia Morrison?"
"Yes?"
"These are for you. Sign here please."
I sign and take the flowers inside. There's a card. My hands shake as I open it.
"Congratulations on your freedom. Now we can finally stop pretending. - S"
Scarlett. She sent me flowers to celebrate stealing my husband.
Something inside me snaps. I grab the vase and throw it against the wall. Water and glass explode everywhere. Red petals scatter like blood across my white marble floor.
I'm on my knees picking up glass when the door opens. I forgot Jeff still has a key.
"Nadia? What the hell happened?"
I look up at him through my tears. He's wearing the suit I bought him for his birthday. His dark hair is slightly messy, like someone's been running their fingers through it.
"Your girlfriend sent flowers," I say, holding up a crushed rose.
His jaw tightens. "She's not my girlfriend."
"Right. Just your business partner you've been sleeping with."
"We're not together, Nadia. It was just…"
"Just what? Just sex? Just a mistake? Just something you needed because your wife wasn't enough?"
He runs his hand through his hair. That gesture I once found endearing now makes me sick.
"I came to get my things," he says, avoiding my question.
"They're in the guest room. Boxed and ready." I stand, glass crunching under my feet. "I made it easy for you. Like always."
"Nadia"
"Don't. Just get your stuff and go."
He heads to the guest room. I should clean up the glass, but I can't move. I stand there surrounded by destroyed flowers, wondering how we got here.
When he comes back with two boxes, he stops. "You're bleeding."
I look down. My hand is cut from the glass, blood dripping onto the petals.
"Let me—"
"No." I step back. "You don't get to care anymore."
"For God's sake, Nadia. Let me at least help you bandage it."
"Like you helped our marriage? No thanks."
His face hardens. "You want to know the truth? You changed. You became this... perfect robot. Always saying the right thing, doing the right thing. Never fighting, never real. I didn't divorce you, Nadia. I divorced who you became."
The words hit harder than any slap. "I became what you wanted."
"No. You became what you thought I wanted. There's a difference."
He leaves with his boxes. I hear the elevator ding, taking him away forever.
I look at my bleeding hand, then at the destroyed flowers. For five years, I tried to be the perfect wife. Turns out, perfect wasn't enough.
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
"Mrs. Morrison? This is St. Mary's Hospital. Your grandmother has been admitted. You're listed as her emergency contact."
Grandma Rose. The only person who never expected me to be perfect.
I grab my keys, not bothering to bandage my hand. As I wait for the elevator, I make a decision.
Jeff was right about one thing - I did lose myself. But he was wrong about why.
I didn't lose myself trying to be perfect. I lost myself trying to be perfect for him.
The elevator opens, and I step inside. In the mirrored walls, I see a woman I don't recognize. Expensive clothes, perfect makeup, empty eyes.
Time to find out who Nadia Morrison really is.
Without Jeff Porter.