Brenda’s Second Life

“What did you say?”

Gabriel stared at me, eyes wide with disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe his own ears.

Beside him, Sophia gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. Her wide, watery eyes were filled with shock.

The shared office space bustled with activity, but my voice, though not loud, landed like a thunderclap, silencing the room. Every curious eye instantly locked onto us.

Gabriel’s face mottled into furious crimson.

He thought I was making an unreasonable scene—deliberately humiliating him in public. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a force that felt bone-crushing. He leaned in, teeth gritted, and hissed, “Brenda! Have you lost your mind?!”

It was the first time he’d ever said my full name so clearly.

Not on his deathbed, delirious and confused, but here, now—as I demanded a divorce and shattered his pride.

The irony was almost funny.

I wrenched my hand free. Around my wrist bloomed a vivid red ring.

“I’m not crazy. I’ve never been more clear-headed.”

My voice turned to ice as I met his gaze. “Gabriel, I’m done. We’re getting a divorce.”

“You…” He trembled with rage, chest heaving.

In his eyes, I was the undesirable element—the spoiled rich girl fortunate he’d stooped to marry. I was supposed to be grateful. Obedient. How dare I ask for a divorce?

“Brenda, maybe… maybe there’s been some misunderstanding?” Sophia chose that moment to step forward, slipping smoothly into her role as the sweet, misunderstood peacemaker. “You’ve just had a baby. You’re not yourself. Don’t say things you’ll regret. Gabriel does care for you. He’s just… he’s not good with words.”

“Oh? Is that so?” I turned to her, a mocking smile touching my lips. “Not good with words, so he forgets my name? Not good with words, so the night I was in labor, he ran off to take care of you and your ‘sudden illness’? Not good with words, so when there’s trouble, his first instinct is to defend *you*?”

With every sentence, Sophia’s face grew paler.

She hadn’t expected me to lay it all out like this.

“I… I didn’t mean to… I was really sick that night…” The tears came on cue. Her body swayed slightly, as if bearing the weight of some immense, unjust suffering.

The whispers around us swelled.

“Well, well… so that’s how it is.”

“Isn’t that Sophia? Michael the Section Chief’s widow? Always seemed so quiet.”

“Just goes to show. A widow, calling a married man to her side in the middle of the night? Shameless.”

Gabriel listened, his expression darkening further. He wasn’t hurt for me—he was furious his reputation was being tarnished.

He pulled Sophia behind him, shielding her, and glared at me. “Brenda! That’s enough! Must you make such a spectacle? Sophia is like a sister to me! Looking after her is the right thing to do! Your mind is filthy!”

“A sister?” I laughed, a sound so bitter it threatened to turn into tears. “The kind of sister you need to care for in bed in the middle of the night? Gabriel, don’t treat everyone else like fools. You want to look after her? Fine. That’s your business. But don’t drag me into it. This wife? Let someone else play the part.”

I turned to leave, ignoring his livid expression and Sophia’s bloodless face.

“Stop!” Gabriel roared after me. “The baby! You’re just going to abandon our son?!”

My steps faltered. I didn’t turn back.

The baby… Joseph.