He Watched the Stars With Her, So I Signed the Divorce Chapter 01

He Watched the Stars With Her, So I Signed the Divorce Chapter 01

My husband was a shipboard communications officer aboard an oceanographic research vessel, yet I could never seem to reach him.

Every time he went to sea, he told me communications were unreliable and that taking three to five days to answer a message was perfectly normal.

I believed him for two full years.

Then his ex-girlfriend, Claire Hayes, posted screenshot after screenshot of their video calls on Instagram.

She and Ryan Walker had video-called thirty-one times in a single month. Even their shortest call had lasted forty minutes.

The images were clear enough for me to make out the deck and the stars behind him.

I pulled up our own message history.

The longest he ever took to answer one of my messages was fourteen days. His entire reply was one word: [Noted.]

After that, I learned my lesson.

I stopped staying up late, staring at my phone and waiting for the screen to light up. I stopped sending him long paragraphs about how much I missed him.

My messages shrank from three lines to one sentence: [Be careful out there.]

Then it was down to two words: [Stay safe.]

After that, all I sent was a period.

Eventually, I stopped sending even that.

When he returned home from another voyage, he frowned at me and asked, “Why haven’t you been texting me lately?”

I smiled.

In just three days, our divorce case would be heard in court. He still had no idea.

***

Ryan stood in the entryway with his duffel bag still in his hand.

I used to change the sheets before he came home, drive to the pier to meet him, and set his slippers by the door, turned the right way for him to step into the moment he walked inside.

Today, I simply sat at the dining table, organizing paperwork.

He looked at the thick stack of documents spread across the table and furrowed his brow.

“Emma Carter, I’m ASKING you a question here.”

I pressed down on the stapler and asked quietly, “How long are you home this time?”

The question caught him off guard, and his tone softened slightly.

“A week. I report back to the ship next week, and the expedition team is having a welcome-back dinner tomorrow night.”

For the past two years, every time he returned to port, he claimed he was exhausted and went straight to bed.

But judging by Claire’s Instagram, he had enough energy to walk along the pier with her, help her choose filming equipment, and stay on video with her until well past midnight.

I kept my eyes on the documents and said nothing.

Ryan set a gift box on the table.

“This is for you. I was at sea on our anniversary, so I wanted to make it up to you.”

My fingers went still.

Inside the box was a seashell bracelet.

The shells had been polished so poorly that their edges were still rough. The tag read, [Harbor Gift Shop—Clearance.]

Before I could say anything, my phone buzzed.

Claire had posted another update on Instagram.

In the photo, she stood on the pier wearing a strand of deep-blue pearls around her neck. Part of Ryan’s sleeve was visible at the edge of the frame.

Her caption read, [Someone remembered I’m afraid of the dark and gave me a little piece of the ocean.]

I slid my phone across the table to Ryan.

He glanced at the screen. His expression shifted for a second before he quickly composed himself.

“Those pearls were borrowed for her documentary shoot. She only had them on for filming. Your bracelet is more casual, so it suits you better.”

I nodded.

“Claire gets deep-blue pearls, and I get clearance-bin seashells.”

He did not seem used to hearing me talk like that. He was about to respond when his phone rang with a video call.

Claire’s name appeared on the screen.

Ryan answered almost on instinct.

On the screen, Claire was wearing a black weatherproof shell jacket.

I recognized it. Ryan had bought it before his voyage the previous year, saying he needed something windproof for life onboard.

Her voice sounded hoarse.

“Ryan, I think I have a fever. The pharmacy near my hotel is already closed, and I don’t know my way around here. I’m a little scared to be alone.”

Ryan looked at me.

There was hesitation in his eyes, along with the guilty look of a man who had already made his choice.

“Emma, she just got into town and doesn’t know the area. I’m going to drop off some medicine. I’ll be right back.”

I watched him pick up his car keys.

“You just got home. We haven’t seen each other in a long time either.”

He frowned.

“Don’t do this. She’s sick.”

The door closed behind him, and everything went quiet.

I sat at the dining table, slipped the seashell bracelet into an evidence bag, and labeled it [Anniversary gift discrepancy.]

Then I texted my attorney, Daniel Foster.

Me: [Add this to the file.]

Daniel replied almost immediately: [Got it.]

Half an hour later, Claire sent me a photo.

A bottle of fever reducer, a steaming mug of tea, and Ryan’s hand were all visible in the frame.

Claire: [Emma, you don’t mind, do you?]

I replied: [Not at all.]

After sending the message, I took out my digital recorder and plugged it in to charge.

The following evening, Ryan sent me a location pin.

Ryan: [The welcome-back dinner starts at seven. Don’t be late. My supervisors and coworkers will all be there, so don’t make me look bad.]

I stared at the message, then slipped the recorder into my purse.