Forced Out of My Job by My Husband, I Divorced Him

It took me six years to climb to the top as the most beloved weather anchor at the Gravenhold TV station. Six years of relentless work, dedication and sacrifices to secure my position. And Nicolas? He knew exactly how much this job meant to me and how hard I had fought for it.

But he didn’t care.

Or maybe, for Annette, sacrificing my reputation and career was no big deal. After all, hadn’t he already proven that when he coldly had our child aborted for her sake?

The thought made my eyes sting. The slap I delivered to Nicolas was fueled by every ounce of betrayal and it left him stunned for a fleeting second.

“You’re in no position to talk about limits right now, Nicholas.” I spat, my voice shaking with anger.

“Do you even hear yourself? What do you mean, she can have my job until she’s bored of it and then she’ll just hand it back? Do you think I need your charity? That position was mine—earned by my own blood, sweat and tears!”

I glared at him, the words tumbling out like venom. “You’re always pulling this crap—hitting me with a slap, then handing me a candy to smooth it over. That’s so you, Nicolas. Manipulative to the core.”

I pushed past him and pulled a gift bag from the back seat of the car, the one he had so proudly bought to ‘compensate’ me for losing my job. Without hesitation, I hurled it at his feet.

We parted ways on a sour note, driving off in separate directions—his car heading west, mine east. The symbolism wasn’t lost on me. Just like our arranged marriage, the once-parallel paths we shared were now hopelessly divergent.

That evening, I got a text from Annette. She summoned me to a private lounge, like a queen summoning her subject.

When I arrived at the door, I saw them.

Nicolas was lounging on the center sofa, arm draped around Annette, grinning as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Their group of friends surrounded them, laughing along.

One of them teased, “So, what you’re gonna do if Rowena actually divorces you?” 

Nicolas scoffed, downing his drink. “That’s not gonna happen. She loves me too much to go through with it.  She’s just being extra. Typical her.”

From where I stood, peeking through the gap in the door, Annette caught sight of me. Her gaze turned sharp, like a dagger with an unspoken message: Hurry up and divorce him already.

I didn’t stay. I turned on my heel and walked away without looking back.

For the next two weeks, Nicolas didn’t come home. I didn’t care.

The rain had been incessant, tapping against the windows like a soft, persistent reminder of my solitude.

One night, as I sat on the couch flipping channels, Annette’s face suddenly filled the screen. She was dressed in a tailored blazer and pencil skirt, her hair cascading over one shoulder. Her expression was plastered with a smile, but it was stiff, awkward.

“Over the coming days, temperatures across the country are expected to drop further due to repeated cold fronts…”

Her voice was monotone and when she stumbled over a tricky phrase, I felt a smug sense of satisfaction.

It was at that moment that the front door opened, bringing in a gust of cold, damp air. Nicolas walked in, drenched from head to toe. Without a word, he tossed a towel in my direction and leaned closer, water dripping onto the fabric of my nightgown.

I didn’t move. My expression was stone cold.

When he realized I wasn’t going to dry him off, he snatched the towel back, rubbing it through his hair. Catching sight of Annette on the TV, he smirked, pride practically radiating off him.

“Not bad for her first official broadcast, huh? I knew she had potential,” he said, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction.

I ignored him and got up, heading straight to the bedroom.

Nicolas followed, his gaze flicking down to where the damp spot on my gown clung to my thigh. His eyes darkened with unmistakable intent. Before I could react, he pinned me against the headboard, his lips trailing rough, uninvited kisses along my face.

“It’s been so long since we’re having it,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. “Don’t you want it too, baby?”

I laughed—a bitter, mocking sound that filled the room.

My mind flashed back to the image of him tangled with Annette on our living room sofa, their bodies entwined in a way that still made my stomach churn.

I tried to push him away, but his hands were relentless, pinning mine behind my back.

Our eyes locked and I could feel the anger burning inside me as I taunted him. “Oh, so now that Annette is busy with her new job as weather anchor, you lack of woman who can satisfy you, Nicholas?”