After my husband favored the female doctor,I am divorced

“Zayn… my chest hurts so much… there’s a long needle stuck right in the doll’s heart…” Natalie collapsed weakly into Zayn’s arms.

He looked stricken with worry. “I’ll take you to the doctor right now.”

Without another word, he carried her out the door.

I stood there, staring at the empty room, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

Just as I began to pack my things to leave, two bodyguards barged in.

My heart tensed. “This is the master bedroom! Aren’t you afraid Zayn will blame you for barging in like this?”

They stepped forward, one on each side, forcing down my arms.

“Mr. Flynn told us to punish you, Mrs. Flynn. You’d better behave.”

“You hurt Miss Summers so badly—Mr. Flynn said you should get a taste of what it feels like to be stabbed with needles.”

I was shaking all over with anger. I never imagined Zayn would go this far for Natalie.

I tried my best to fight back, but they held me down tightly.

When the cold needle pierced my skin, my already broken heart completely shattered. Even the last bit of feeling I had left for Zayn disappeared without a trace.

I didn’t know how many times they stabbed me— the pain was so sharp that I almost passed out.

Through my fading consciousness, I heard one of the bodyguards say, “Mr. Flynn said this thing needs to be thrown away too.”

The other replied, “Let’s just flush it down the toilet. It’s only a bunch of clay anyway.”

I realized they were talking about my sister’s ashes. With all my remaining strength, I grabbed one of the men by the pant leg.

I begged in a trembling voice, “Please… don’t throw them away… I’ll give you anything you want, just please don’t…”

The bodyguard kicked my hand off impatiently and said coldly, “We know what’s worth keeping and what’s just garbage.”

“Madam, these are Mr. Flynn’s orders—we can’t disobey.”

With that, he picked up the bits of clay and walked toward the bathroom.

I forced myself up despite the pain and struggled toward the bathroom. One of the bodyguards kicked me hard in the stomach and said with a mocking tone, “Sorry, you’ll have to wait until he’s done.”

I collapsed to the ground in despair and fainted from grief.

When I woke up, I rushed to the bathroom, but it had already been cleaned.

I leaned over the toilet, my stomach twisting from sadness.

I gagged and retched for over ten minutes before the truth hit me — I hadn’t even managed to protect the last shred of my sister’s dignity.

Numbly, I stood up and packed everything that Natalie had kicked over yesterday into my suitcase.

On the way to the airport, I saw Natalie’s new post on social media.

It was a photo of Zayn, dressed in a custom-made suit, kneeling devoutly before a Jesus statue.

The caption read: “Every princess has her own knight. I’m no exception.”

A moment later, I saw a familiar profile among the likes.

I let out a cold laugh. Zayn had never once liked any of my posts—he always said social media was childish and meaningless.

But for Natalie, he could post and even click “like.”

So it was true—someone who never even offered you a piece of candy was never really yours.

I opened our chat and sent him a message. [Your birthday is in three days. I’ve got a surprise for you. I hope you’ll like it.]

He replied quickly, [The best gift you can give me is to help Natalie test the medicine properly.]

I couldn’t help but sneer. I knew what he really meant beneath those words— “That’s all you’re good for now.”

To keep the last bit of dignity I had, I didn’t reply. Instead, I pulled out my SIM card, snapped it in half and threw it out the car window.

That was my farewell— to the past and to the version of myself who had spent seven years walking on eggshells.

Since Zayn loved Natalie so deeply, then I would let go and help them have their happy ending.