Filed for divorce from her secret marriage husband

In the car, Eli had put on soft, calming music, and the windows were shut tight, muting the heavy rain pounding outside.

Only the raindrops streaming down the glass reminded me of the dismal weather beyond.

“So, Ms. Lane, you’re close with the famous Noah Harrison, right?” Eli asked, breaking the silence abruptly.

It was the first time I’d heard Noah’s name spoken aloud since deciding to divorce, and it sent an uneasy tremor through me.

After a pause, I forced out a neutral reply, “We’re… alright.”

Eli drummed his fingers on the steering wheel a few times. “Oh… just ‘alright,’ huh?”

Then he asked, “Between us, who do you think is more attractive?” He looked over at me with a playful grin.

Caught off guard, I glanced at him briefly before replying, “You’re not the same type.”

But he didn’t seem satisfied, pressing on, “So, which type do you prefer, Ms. Lane?”

I wasn’t in the mood to entertain his questions, a wave of irritation rising within me.

I glanced outside and saw we’d arrived at my house, so I changed the subject, “I’m home. You can just drop me here.”

Eli nodded and said nothing more. Once he’d parked, he got out to open my door, waiting until I’d gone inside before pulling away.

The house was dark and empty. I didn’t bother turning on the lights and made my way upstairs, guided only by the faint glow of the streetlight outside.

“So eager to find a new guy already?” A low, gravelly voice came from the top of the stairs.

Startled, I looked up to see Noah, standing in the doorway with his hands shoved into his pockets, leaning against the frame.

I kept walking, “If you can sleep around while we’re married, why can’t I find someone else?”

Noah let out a bitter laugh. “I told you, it’s all fake! And do you really think he’s interested in you for who you are? You think he could actually love you?”

It was the first time Noah’s voice sounded so cold to me, but I ignored the sinking feeling in my chest.

“So what, Noah? Did you love me at all these past seven years, or were you just using me for my scripts?” I shot back.

My words seemed to hit a nerve, and in a flash, he grabbed my arm, pressing me against the wall.

“Renee, don’t lump me in with them,” he said through gritted teeth.

I yanked my arm free, enunciating each word, “You’re right. There’s no comparison… because you’re worse than they are.”

“Renee!” Noah’s fist came down on the wall beside me.

Ignoring him, I walked into my bedroom and switched on the light.

But before I could even take a breath, I felt myself pulled into his arms.

He buried his head against my shoulder, his voice low and raw. “Don’t divorce me, Renee. Please…”

I didn’t push him away, nor did I reciprocate, remaining as still as if he wasn’t there.

“Noah,” I said softly, “you’re the one who cheated. You’re the one who agreed to the divorce. Don’t you think it’s ridiculous to say this now?”

He held on tighter, as though afraid I’d slip away at any moment, but what he couldn’t grasp was that I’d already left.

“That was a mistake… I didn’t mean it. I don’t want a divorce… please, Renee…” His voice trembled, and I felt a hot tear drop onto my neck.

I finally stepped back, freeing myself from his arms.

“Any other mistake, maybe I could forgive you. But you betrayed me. Don’t you understand, Noah? You can’t have it all.”

I choked back my own tears, keeping my voice steady.

He looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate, whispering, “I didn’t… I swear…”

I could only find it laughable.

The next morning, I heard sounds coming from downstairs.

When I went to look, I saw Noah bustling around the kitchen, setting a freshly prepared, fragrant breakfast on the table.

I stood silently, watching the scene.

In all the years we’d known each other – even since getting married – I never knew Noah could cook.

It had always been me making the meals, and later, once his work got busy, he rarely even made it home to eat at all.

Noah turned to me. “You’re up? Come on, sit down. I made pumpkin pie…your favorite.”

“I’m allergic to pumpkin,” I replied evenly, with no particular emotion.

There was no need to ask whose favorite it was.

“Noah, I don’t think spending time together is helpful during this period,” I said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

His hand, pouring a glass of milk, froze. Maybe he’d forgotten we were getting divorced.

Without another word, I grabbed my bag and turned to go, but Noah followed me outside, grabbing my hand.

“I took time off just to be here with you,” he said, as if I owed him my time simply because he’d decided to take a day off.

It was laughable. He hadn’t hesitated to work through every other phase of our marriage. I once went half a year without seeing him at all.

I shook off his hand. “That’s unnecessary. Go spend time with your new muse.” Without waiting for a reply, I walked away.

As I drove, an uncomfortable tightness gnawed at my chest, and my speed crept higher with every mile.

When a large truck suddenly pulled out in front of me, I had no time to stop.

Crash!

The sound of metal grinding filled the empty road.

My phone’s emergency contact feature automatically dialed, but all I heard was:

“The person you’re trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later.”

The car’s Bluetooth replayed that cold, automated message over and over.

A sharp shard of glass had pierced my thigh, and I could feel warm blood soaking through the fabric.

My head spun, and my body slumped forward onto the airbag.

Just before my senses faded, I thought I heard a familiar voice calling me.

“Renee! Renee, I’m here. Don’t be afraid…”