I Announced Our Divorce To Airport Reporters

The next morning, Xavier Parker got dressed with deliberate quietness, stealing a glance at Annika James, who was still lost in deep sleep. The night before had been intense. She'd pushed back against his advances with a firm resolve, but eventually, her defenses crumbled, and she turned pliant and soft in his arms. By the end, she was pleading with him to stop, then slipped into an exhausted sleep with tears drying on her cheeks.

Xavier felt a pang of remorse. He'd missed her like hell the past week, and when she brought up divorce, a storm of anger and longing had driven him to go too far. He hadn't meant to be so rough.

He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead—a silent apology and tenderness both. Annika remained oblivious, still lost to the world.

His phone buzzed quietly, jerking Xavier out of his reverie. He glanced at his watch and left the bedroom.

At the front door, Rayan Henry stood holding open the backseat door. Once Xavier settled in, Rayan circled the car and slid into the driver's seat, clicking his seatbelt into place. They hadn't driven far when Xavier's voice cut through the silence. "Why does the car smell like roses?"

Rayan froze, sniffing the air but detecting nothing. Still, he knew Xavier's sense of smell was freakishly sharp. Realization hit, and embarrassment crept in. "I'm sorry, Mr. Parker. The other night, my girlfriend had a company event. I picked her up late, and she had a bouquet of roses—the company gave them to all the women. The scent must have lingered."

The backseat went quiet. A flush of shame crept up Rayan's neck. He knew Annika hated the scent of roses—it reminded her of someone she despised. No wonder she'd rolled down the window yesterday as soon as she got in. When he asked if it was too hot, she just shrugged it off and told him to keep driving. Regret twisted in his gut. His damn sinus issues always left him nose-blind to stuff like that.

"Mr. Parker, I could explain to Mrs. Parker—" Rayan started.

After a pause, Xavier cut him off. "No, leave it."

He knew it wasn't the roses she loathed—it was the person who adored them.

Silence settled again. Rayan glanced at Xavier in the rearview mirror, catching the calm but contemplative look on his boss's sculpted face, a shadow of worry creasing his brow. Taking a breath, Rayan ventured, "Mr. Parker, Mrs. Parker hasn't seemed herself lately."

Xavier's gaze snapped to the mirror, sharp and assessing despite its casualness. Under that weight, Rayan pressed on. "Sir, your wedding anniversary with Mrs. Parker is coming up. You were away last year. Maybe... plan something special?"

Xavier looked out the window, rubbing his temple. "I'm aware."

Rayan shut his mouth.

In the office, Rayan went through the day's schedule on his tablet. Xavier interrupted. "What's the date tomorrow?"

"The 17th," Rayan answered.

The 17th of every month was set aside for Annika to visit her father. Her dad, Andrew James, had worked for the Parkers for over twenty years before an accident left him with severe brain damage, his mind reduced to that of a child. He was in a care facility now, and Annika went to see him regularly. Xavier fell silent, thoughtful, as he stepped into his office and closed the door behind him.

—

Annika woke to the midday sun, her body aching all over. She cursed Xavier silently for being so damn rough. The smell of food hit her as she stumbled out of the bedroom.

The housekeeper had finished cooking and was about to head out. When she saw Annika, she gave a warm but restrained smile. "Mrs. Parker, I'll be finishing up at the end of this month."

The announcement caught Annika off guard. She paused, surprised.

This housekeeper had been hired after Annika married Xavier. She only came to cook, and Annika genuinely loved her food. She'd even joked during arguments that she'd give up any settlement just to keep the housekeeper. So why now?

Annika remembered Lina Turner visiting once. Lina had raved about the food, then 'jokingly' offered the housekeeper double the salary to come work for her. Lina always had a way of wanting whatever Annika cherished, always passing it off as a joke. The housekeeper had politely turned her down then.

"Is it about the money?" Annika asked.

The housekeeper shook her head, rubbing her hands nervously. "Oh no, you and Mr. Parker pay me well. It's just... my daughter is having her first baby next month. I've spent years taking care of other people's families. It's time I took care of my own. With postpartum care and all, she'll need her mother there."

Annika understood. There was no arguing with that. "Of course. Having a baby is a big deal. It's best you're there with her."

The housekeeper caught the glisten of unshed tears in Annika's eyes. In the three years she'd worked here, she'd learned something about Annika: for a woman who seemed to have it all, she cried easily. Some days, Annika would duck her head over her bowl, pretending to savor her food while quietly sobbing. As an outsider, the housekeeper never pried, but sometimes she couldn't help feeling a stab of pity for Annika. In all this time, she'd seen few visitors. Even fewer friends.

"Over the years, I wrote down the recipes for your favorite dishes," the housekeeper said, pulling out some papers. "You can give them to the next housekeeper."

It was too much. Annika turned quickly, her voice tight. "Just a moment." She retreated to the bedroom, where she dug through drawers for cash and an envelope, drying her tears with tissues. She found the envelope Xavier had given her last Christmas—still holding two thousand dollars. She returned to the kitchen and pressed it into the housekeeper's hands.

The housekeeper tried to refuse, but Annika was firm. "For your grandchild. Having a baby is a big deal. Call it a blessing."

The housekeeper's eyes brimmed. She bit her lip, accepting it. "Thank you, Mrs. Parker. I hope your kind blessing comes true."

At the door, she paused and looked back. "Mrs. Parker, you're young and beautiful. Please be happy. Life's too short to stay down. You can get through anything. I wish you all the best."