Separated Rooms for Three Years, He Panicked After I Moved Out Chapter 05

Separated Rooms for Three Years, He Panicked After I Moved Out Chapter 05

Chloe froze.

I turned and went upstairs, leaving her alone in the living room.

I opened the closet and began taking my clothes down, one by one.

For three years of marriage, I didn’t have that many.

Briar had never taken me shopping on Rodeo Drive. He had never bought me a gift.

He had never spent a single anniversary with me, never celebrated my birthday. Valentine’s Day was just another Tuesday.

Thinking about it now, it was almost laughable.

I folded the last coat and placed it in a box. Just as I was about to tape it shut, my phone rang.

I picked it up. It was a message from Briar.

“I have a business dinner tonight, so I won’t be home. Chloe just moved in. Help her get settled in one of the guest rooms.”

I put my phone down and went back to packing.

By evening, I had finished clearing out the closet and the study.

When I went downstairs, Chloe was sitting on the sofa, sipping coffee.

She heard my footsteps and looked up, her gaze landing on the manila envelope in my hand.

“What’s that?”

I didn’t answer her.

I placed the envelope on the coffee table, then sat in the armchair across from her.

Chloe stared at the envelope for a few seconds, then a slow smile spread across her face.

“Divorce papers?”

My silence was its own answer.

She looked undeniably pleased.

“You’re really divorcing him?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When he gets back. I’ll tell him myself.”

“This marriage was a transaction from the start,” I said. “Now that it’s over, it’s better for everyone if we part ways.”

She studied me for a long moment, her expression turning complicated.

“Marceline.”

She lowered her voice.

“Did you ever even like him?”

The question gave me pause.

Had I?

When we first got married three years ago, I had held out hope.

He was handsome, successful—the kind of man who commanded a room just by walking into it.

I thought if I was just good enough, thoughtful enough, *enough*, he would eventually see me.

But that hope had withered quickly.

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” I told her.

“Whatever I might have felt before, it’s over now.”

At nine that night, Briar came home.

He glanced first at Chloe on the sofa, and his expression visibly softened.

“Chloe. You settling in okay?”

Chloe smiled at him, her voice sweet.

“Everything’s great.”

Only then did Briar’s eyes shift to me.

His gaze swept over me, landed on the envelope on the coffee table, then moved to the moving boxes stacked nearby.

He frowned.

“What are all these boxes for?”

I stood up, picked up the envelope, and held it out to him.

“Briar, we need to talk.”

He didn’t take it. He just looked at me, confusion in his eyes.

“What is this?”

“Divorce papers.”