The Divorce He Never Expected

The minutes crawled by. Theo didn't come back.

Only Lydia's feed kept updating: Theo cleaning her apartment, pruning her flowers, feeding her pets.

All the parts of her life her husband was absent for, my husband stepped in to fill.

I didn't keep scrolling. I just gathered my things and went to the office.

The second I walked in, everyone scrambled, taking a beat too long to look busy.

"Morning, Ms. Morgan."

I nodded. My assistant, Amy, hurried over with her tablet. "Ms. Morgan, do you want me to cancel the company's annual health screening and move up the merger meeting?"

"No need."

I walked into my office, opened my laptop, and drafted a divorce agreement.

The freshly printed pages were still warm. I didn't hesitate. I signed my name.

By nature I was fiercely competitive, unwilling to fall a single step behind anyone at work.

In just seven years I'd built a solid footing in New York, earned the backing of the Ashford family, and run a publicly traded company.

Through all the time we spent apart, Theo had always been the one to bend.

He'd leave the office right on time, cook dinner ahead of me, set up little surprises, all for that bright smile when I walked through the door.

And I did the same. I'd rearrange my schedule and turn down the meetings that didn't matter, just to carve out time for the two of us.

I used to be naive enough to believe it would stay that happy forever.

Then Lydia showed up that rainy night covered in bruises, and everything started to change.

The sunflowers at home slowly turned into chamomile. The nursery became Lydia's temporary room. Even the sticky note on the fridge with my name on it got swapped for a new one.

"Lydia's meds, cat food, blueberries, chamomile."

He wrote it all down, bought it before mealtime, and delivered it to her himself.

Nothing seemed different.

And yet everything was.

I pulled my thoughts back with a bitter smile, folded the agreement in half, and slipped it into my bag.

The health screening center was in Lower Manhattan. The company had booked out the afternoon slot.

We got there early. The nurse at the front desk handed me a form, and I leaned against the hallway wall, filling it out line by line.

"Vera Morgan?"

I looked up on instinct.

My eyes caught the badge on his chest, and I realized he was an old classmate from college. He was a senior attending physician at the hospital now.

I gave him a small smile and was about to say something when a commotion broke out at the far end of the hall.

Someone was shouting. "Move, move!"

I stepped back without thinking. When I looked up again, I saw Theo barreling in with Lydia in his arms.

"Hypoglycemia. Is there a doctor? Somebody help her!"

His elbow grazed my arm, and it stung like fire.

He didn't slow down.

He didn't even turn his head.

I stood in the middle of the hallway and watched him run off, so stubborn, so reckless.

It was a far cry from the man who was always calm and composed in front of me.

Ethan walked over and bent to pick up the pen I'd dropped. "Here. Your arm okay?"

"Thanks. I'm fine."

The rest of the screenings were done.

I changed back into my clothes and stepped out the hospital doors.

Standing on the front steps, I looked down at the lines on my report and, without meaning to, laid a hand over my stomach.

Clinical diagnosis: early pregnancy.

I'd wanted this baby for a long time.

For my mother's last wish, and for myself.

I'd taken the meds. I'd done the injections. I'd made trip after trip to the hospital.

So why did it have to show up now, right when I was ready to give up?