Chapter 4 Divorced

Kayla’s POV

I didn’t sleep that night.

No matter how tightly I shut my eyes, the sound of Vivian’s body hitting the floor kept echoing in my head — over and over again.

The house was silent now, but that silence wasn’t peace. It was a punishment.

Adrian hadn’t come home after the incident. He had rushed Vivian to the hospital and left me standing there, accused, speechless, broken. The memory of his words cut sharper than anything else.

“You disgust me, Kayla. You’ll get the divorce papers soon enough.”

Every time I replayed it, my chest burned.

I wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to believe me… but what was the point? He’d already made up his mind.

The morning came, cold and cruel. I stood by the window, watching the sunrise, numb to its warmth.

The house felt emptier than ever. Every corner carried a memory I wished I could erase… laughter that once filled these walls, promises he’d made, love that used to mean something.

I was in the kitchen when I heard the front door unlock. My stomach dropped.

Adrian.

I wiped my eyes quickly and turned off the kettle, pretending to be busy. But when I turned around, my heart froze.

He wasn’t alone.

Vivian stepped in right behind him, her arm bandaged, her wrist in a sling. She looked delicate and pale, dressed in a soft cream blouse that made her look even more innocent.

And Adrian, my husband… carried her overnight bag like some devoted protector.

My throat went dry. “What is she doing here?”

Adrian didn’t even look at me when he spoke. “She’s staying here for now. The doctor said she shouldn’t be alone.”

The words hit me like a slap. “You brought her here? In our house?”

He set the bag down and finally turned toward me, his expression stone-cold. “She has nowhere else to go, Kayla. I won’t argue about this.”

“Nowhere else?” I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “She has her own apartment, Adrian. She’s not your responsibility!”

“Not my responsibility?” His voice rose, sharp and angry. “She nearly died because of you! The least you can do is not make this harder than it already is.”

My breath caught. “You think I pushed her?”

His silence said enough.

Vivian stood quietly between us, her head bowed just enough to appear gentle— a perfect portrait of grace under pain.

She sniffled softly. “Please, Adrian… don’t fight because of me. I shouldn’t have come. I can just call a cab—”

Adrian turned to her immediately. “No, you’re staying. You need rest.”

Then he turned to me again, his tone low and final. “She’ll take the guest room upstairs.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “The guest room?”

He didn’t answer.

Vivian gave a small, pitiful sigh and glanced at me. “I can just stay in your room, Kayla. It’s closer to the bathroom, and Adrian won’t have to worry about me walking too far.”

I froze. My room. Our room.

The gall. The audacity.

I stared at her, my nails digging into my palm. “You can’t be serious.”

Adrian spoke before I could say more. “That’s actually a good idea. She needs easy access in case she feels dizzy.”

I couldn’t breathe. My own husband was suggesting that the woman who ruined our marriage sleep in my bed…  the bed we once shared.

“I’ll have someone move your things to the guest room,” Adrian added, coldly, like it was a business transaction.

Something in me snapped then. But I didn’t make any noise… I was silent. The kind that screams louder than words ever could.

I turned away before they saw the tears. “Do whatever you want, Adrian. It’s your house, not mine.”

I spent the rest of the morning in the smaller room down the hall. It smelled of dust and disuse, like it hadn’t been opened in years.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall as I listened to the muffled sounds from the hallway.

Adrian’s footsteps, Vivian’s soft, helpless voice, her occasional wince of pain that drew his immediate attention.

She was milking it. Every sigh, every tiny movement, every soft “ouch” was perfectly timed to keep his eyes on her.

And he fell for it… every single one.

Once, I heard her laugh softly, then quickly muffle it as if she remembered I was still in the house.

I closed my eyes, fists clenched.

Hours passed, and the sun dipped again. I tried to eat but couldn’t. I tried to distract myself but failed. The more I tried to ignore them, the clearer their voices became.

“Vivian, you should rest.”

“I’m fine, Adrian. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not. You’ve been through enough.”

Each word sliced deeper into my chest.

That night, I heard a knock at my door. It was him.

He stood there in the hallway, arms crossed, looking tired but not remorseful.

“I’ll be seeing my lawyer tomorrow to finalize the divorce papers,” he said flatly. “You’ll get your share of the assets. I’m not going to fight you on that.”

I met his eyes. “You don’t have to. I never wanted your money.”

He didn’t reply.

“I just hope,” I continued, voice trembling, “that one day, when the lies fall apart and you finally see the truth, it won’t be too late.”

He scoffed. “You really think there’s anything left to see? You pushed a woman down the stairs, Kayla.”

“I didn’t,” I whispered. “But you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

His silence was my answer.

He left without another word, the door shutting behind him with a final, cold click.

I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at that door. Minutes, hours, maybe the whole night.

When the tears finally came, they didn’t stop. I cried until my throat burned, until my body went numb.

This wasn’t my home anymore. This wasn’t my marriage.

It was my grave… and Vivian was standing right over it, smiling.

The next morning, I packed my bags.

When I came downstairs, Adrian was helping Vivian into her seat for breakfast, his hand on her shoulder as if she were glass. They both looked up as I entered.

“I’ll be leaving,” I said quietly, setting my keys on the counter. “Since this isn’t my home anymore.”

Adrian didn’t even ask where I’d go. He just nodded. “The lawyer will send the documents once they’re ready.”

Vivian offered a faint, sympathetic smile. “Kayla, I never meant for any of this to happen.”

I looked at her,  really looked at her… and for the first time, I saw her clearly. Every tear, every tremble, every soft-spoken word was nothing but a perfectly rehearsed performance.

How was such a person my friend? I was so dumb.

I simply said, “I hope you both get everything you deserve.”

And with that, I turned and walked out. Broken, and bleeding inside, but free.

Behind me, the door closed with a quiet finality.

He had chosen his side and one day, he’d regret it.

I look onto the horizon, promising myself not to turn back. Promising myself to move on with my life and live the best of it. And that's what I'm going to do.