For our Wedding Anniversary, I Gifted Him Divorce Papers

Lavender thought it would take a long time to hear from the other end of the line. Little did she know, the line had already connected at the first ring.

“Lavender,” his voice came sharp and low, “you’re not messing with me, are you?”

She stayed silent.

“I’ve been chasing you for as long as you’ve been pining for Desmond. You—cold as a diamond for seven years—and now you’re suddenly giving in? What changed?”

Red Ralston. Her old lover. One of North Carolina’s elites.

He chased her for seven years. In fact, she almost chose him.

It was just that on the night she was supposed to make the decision, Desmond gave her hope.

So she left Red.

Faced with his questions, she took a breath. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Forget I said anything.”

Suddenly, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor cracked through the speaker.

“You think I’m someone you can call when you’re bored and drop when you’re not? Huh, Lavender?” His voice rose. “You chose me this time. Don’t think about running away from me again.”

“I’m giving you one month,” he warned. “Handle that dickhead. After that, I’m going to take what’s mine.”

Red didn’t give her a chance to refuse. With a click, the line went dead after that warning.

A small, wry smile tugged at her lips. ‘He’s still the same,’ she realized.

That night, Desmond didn’t come home.

She spent the hours in silence, sorting through closets and drawers, folding things into boxes. Morning light spilled across the floor when the front door finally opened.

He stepped in, still wearing last night’s shirt. “What are you throwing out?”

She flinched, just slightly. Then she straightened, brushing hair behind her ear. “Just some garbage.”

He walked over, glanced into the box. It was full of clothes and other gifts he had bought for her.

“You call these… garbage?”

“Old gifts, old clothes,” she said lightly. “They take up space. I thought I’d donate them under your name—some kids in the mountains could use them. Might even earn you a good reputation.”

Hearing the last line, Desmond’s thin straight lips slightly curved. “Well, you know better.”

Seeing that he believed, she breathed a sigh of relief, but she also couldn't be fooled.

It was not that he believed her. It was just that he didn’t want to waste more time on her.

Suddenly, there was a sound of something breaking behind her.

She turned around, only to see her sister.

Cyanne stood by the shelf, wide-eyed, a broken sculpture at her feet. The smile on her face looked innocent, the kind that would make anyone fall in a trap.

“Oops… sorry, Mondy, Avy. I didn’t mean to.”

Desmond didn't care about the broken item at all, and quickly brushed past Lavender to check if Cyanne was injured.

Seeing no wounds over her body, the worry in his eyes seemed to have faded, "It's okay, nothing is more important than you."

But getting Desmond’s attention wasn’t enough. Cyanne also stared at Lavender and tilted her head, asking, “You don’t mind, right, Avy?”

Lavender's gaze dropped to the floor.

The sculpture had been one of a kind—commissioned after a trip, the only piece with both of her and Desmond’s faces carved into it.

But now, it was just broken pieces.

If it happened years ago, Lavender would definitely be mad and even say a few words.

Now, she looked back up and was kind enough to say, “It’s fine.”

A flicker passed across Cyanne’s face—gone before it settled. She smiled. “Aww, you’re really so kind.”

Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Desmond. “With a sister like that, I’m sure she won’t mind my next request either.”

He didn’t even look at Avy when he spoke.

“Yannie’s just returned to North Carolina. Her parents aren’t in the state, and she’s not comfortable staying home alone.

“In the meantime, let her live here.

“Oh, and—you room faces the sun. She’s always been sensitive to the cold. Let her have it.”