Separated Rooms for Three Years, He Panicked After I Moved Out Chapter 11

Separated Rooms for Three Years, He Panicked After I Moved Out Chapter 11

We didn’t speak again.

The courthouse was quiet. The clerk at the window took our papers and asked a few procedural questions in a monotone voice.

“Both parties agree to the divorce?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“No disputes over the division of assets?”

“No.”

“No.”

The clerk lowered her head, stamped the documents with a heavy thud, and handed them back to us.

I glanced at the date.

When we walked out of the courthouse, the California sun was blinding.

Briar stood beside me, holding his copy of the divorce decree.

He stared straight ahead and suddenly spoke.

“Marceline, I’m sorry.”

I turned to look at him.

His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

“I treated you terribly these past three years.”

“It’s fine. It’s over now.”

I put the papers into my bag and looked at him.

“Briar, I hope you and Chloe will be very happy together.”