Nita's Revenge

The silence in the dining room was heavy, broken only by the sound of movement from the staff. Nita’s hand trembled slightly as she set down her fork. She had prepared his favorite meal, hoping – foolishly – that tonight he would smile at her the way he had once done when no one else was watching.

But Nick Grimm did not smile. He had hardly looked at her all evening. His jaw was set in a grim line, his eyes cold, distance, as if she was a stranger who had overstayed her welcome. 

She was his wife for Christ sake. 

And then he said it. 

“I’m done.”

The words cut through her like a blade. For a moment, she thought she’d misheard him. They’d been married for less than six months. An arranged marriage, yes – but slowly, Nita dared to believe that something real was blossoming between them. He had held her in his arms at night, whispered her name in the dark. She had convinced herself that those moments meant something. 

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Finally, she managed , voice trembling, “Nick… what are you saying?”

He didn’t even hesitate. A brown envelope slid across the table towards her, the crisp sound of paper against wood echoing loud than it should have. “This is the divorce agreement. Sign it. The necessary alimony will be sent to your account. Isn’t that why you married me – for money?”

The accusation struck harder than the envelope. Nita’s chest constricted. Money? Was that truly what he  thought of her?

Her hand remained frozen in her lap, knuckles white. She wanted to scream, to tell him that wasn’t true, that she had married him because of her grandfather’s wish, because her family had begged her to. She wanted to tell him that somewhere along the line she had started to love him, silently, desperately. 

But her throat was locked.

Nick’s gaze softened for just a fraction of a second – so brief she wondered if she imagined it. Then his voice turned to steel again. “I’ll leave the house to you. But I don’t want to see you near me ever again.”

He rose from his chair without waiting for her reply. The sound of his footsteps retreating down the hallway, the slam of the door – those sounds echoed louder in her ears than any argument they had ever shared. 

Nita sat there, staring at the envelope. Divorce. Such a small word, yet it shattered her world in one breath.

Her vision blurred. She gripped the edge of the table, her strength faltering. He can’t mean this. He can’t… 

Her knees gave way before she could catch herself. The floor rose up, darkness crashing over her. 

When she opened her eyes again, the world was too white, too sterile. A beeping machine pulsed steadily at her side. The ceiling above her was hospital-white. 

“Ma’am, you’re awake.”

It was one of the household maids, perched at her bedside. The girl’s eyes were swollen from crying. She held Nita’s hand as though afraid she might vanish. 

Nita tried to speak, but her throat was raw. She swallowed, forced the words out. “Nick… Where is Nick?”

The maid’s gaze dropped, sorrow flickering across her features. “You collapsed, ma’am. We bought you here. Please, don’t try to move yet –“

But Nita was already forcing herself upright. She couldn’t lie here while her world was crumbling. She needed to make him understand. 

“Call him,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please. Call him back.”

Before the maid could move, the door opened. A doctor entered with a chart in hand, smiling as if this was an ordinary check-up. His smile faded when he saw Nita trying to leave the bed. 

“Mrs. Grimm,” he said firmly, “you shouldn’t be up. You collapsed from stress.”

“I need to see my husband,” she insisted, pushing past the dizziness that clouded her vision.

The doctor stepped closer, his tone softening. “I understand. But before you do anything reckless, you need to hear this.”

Something in his voice made her pause.

He glanced at the chart again, then met her eyes. “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Grimm.”

The words fell between them, quiet yet earth-shaking.

Pregnant.

Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, trembling as though it wasn’t truly hers. A child. Their child.

A fragile smile trembled at her lips, breaking through the storm of grief. “Nick…” she whispered to herself. Surely – surely he wouldn’t turn away now. He couldn’t. 

Her world, so broken a moment ago, flickered with a fragile new light. 

She was pregnant.