Even if you Kneel, You lost me, Husband!

I was just about to reach the parking lot, the hospital lights finally behind me, when I heard him calling my name.

“Lindsey! Wait—please!”

I turned slowly. Alex ran toward me, his chest heaving, desperation in his voice.

“Just give me a second. Let me explain—”

I raised my hand. “Explain what, Alex?”

He stopped short, suddenly looking uncertain. “I didn’t want to lie to you.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Lie about Sasha?”

He stepped closer. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything… I just didn’t want you to misunderstand. Sasha is—she’s just a friend. She was kidnapped because of me. I thought it was my fault—”

“Never mind,” I said flatly, cutting him off. “I don’t care.”

And I walked away, leaving him standing there with half-truths he couldn’t even deliver properly.

But before I could fully leave the entrance, Sasha herself came out of the hospital, still in a patient gown, limping slightly. “Alex!” she called out.

I stopped.

“I’m still in pain,” she said weakly, eyes full of tears. “Where are you going? Don’t leave me, plus I’m hungry.”

That was all it took. Once again, I was the forgotten one. He didn’t follow me, and tried to explain further than what he said a while ago.

I went home without saying another word.

Later that night, my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number. I clicked it open.

It was a photo.

Alex and Sasha. Kissing. So intimate. Full of love—something I thought was ours before.

Below it was a message: Back off. Alex doesn’t love you. You saw it. Leave him. Got it? I’m back now. I’m the one he wants. Always have been. —Sasha.

I stared at it. Not shocked. Not hurt. Just… numb.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I began packing.

As I folded clothes and boxed memories, another message came in—this time from Alex.

I’m sorry, Lindsey. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Just hang in there a little longer. I’ll fix this. I’ll buy you something nice when I come back home.

I stared at the screen. How many times had he said those exact words? Every mistake followed by a gift. Every betrayal patched with flowers, with promises, with empty reassurances.

I used to think I was lucky to have him. I was so wrong. I regretted everything, and wasted my time on him.

Days passed. I said nothing. Not because I hoped. But because I needed time—time to let go, to breathe, to stop hurting.

On the fourth day, I saw Paula’s post on Instagram. It was a picture of Alex and Sasha, arms around each other, smiling like they hadn’t destroyed someone to be there.

“Finally, the real ones,” her caption read. “So proud of my brother and future sister-in-law. #togetheragain #meanttobe.”

Alex kept texting. I stopped reading them after the second day. Scrolled past. Deleted most without opening. I used to hang on every word from him. Now, they barely registered.

Then, on the fifth day, the call came.

“Ms. Hale,” my lawyer said gently, “it’s done. The divorce is finalized. Your identity records have been updated. You’re no longer connected to the Hale name.”

I closed my eyes. And exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding for years.

That afternoon, I booked my flight and finally left.

Third Person’s Pov

Alex stood beside Sasha in her penthouse, pouring her tea, massaging her shoulders. She giggled in his ear, and it almost felt like a dream come true.

But dreams come with fine print. His parents had called again—this time, about the charity ball they were hosting.

“You and Lindsey are the faces of the family,” his mother had reminded him. “We expect you both to attend. Bring her.”

He sighed. “I have to go,” he told Sasha.

“Again?” she frowned. “Why?”

“They’re expecting me… with her. If I play this right, this charity might be the last piece we need since I failed to do my plan on her birthday. After this, we can file publicly. No scandal. They won’t question it. And then I’ll be free.”

She pouted. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, kissing her cheek.

Later that evening, he stopped by a flower shop. He rehearsed what he would say in his head. One last apology. One last manipulation.

But when he unlocked the door to the house…

It was dark.

“Lindsey?” he called softly as he stepped inside the house, the door clicking shut behind him. “Hey… I brought something for you—your favorite tulips.”

His voice floated through the air, unanswered.

Silence pressed through the hallway as Alex stepped inside. He pushed open the bedroom door.

"What the—?" he blinked, his throat tightening as the tulips slipped from his hand, leaving him frozen in place, staring in stunned silence at the divorce papers resting on the bed beside her wedding ring.