One Divorce To Sign, A Lifetime Of Regret

Virelle woke in an unfamiliar space, the sharp, suffocating scent of antiseptic so thick it made it hard for her to breathe. The cold, sterile air of the hospital room raised goosebumps across her skin, and the moment she stirred, faint whispers reached her ears.

“This girl in the ward is really pitiful. She’s severely injured, with a concussion and heavy blood loss, yet there’s no one here to take care of her.”

“Even the driver of that container truck she nearly collided with was the one kind enough to bring her to the hospital and pay for her emergency treatment.”

That voice suddenly lowered, laced with regret.

“I wonder what relationship she has with the two people sitting in the driver's and passenger seats of that BMW."

"They were in the same car during the accident, weren’t they? How could they just abandon her like that, without caring whether she lived or died?”

A soft shushing sound followed, then another female voice deliberately hushed.

“Don’t say things like that. If someone overhears, it won’t be good.”

The faint clatter of medical instruments echoed as the voice dropped even further.

“I think the girl in the passenger seat is the driver’s wife. He looked so panicked, after all.”

“She only got a small scratch from shattered glass, just a little bleeding, but he made such a huge fuss in the hospital."

"He even exaggerated things and demanded the best doctor treat her, as if her condition were serious.”

Clicking her tongue again, she added.

“And that girl... I suppose she’s just an acquaintance, not someone close.”

“After all, when she was brought in by the ambulance, the stretcher was already soaked in blood... and that man didn’t even spare her a single glance...”

Only when the room fell completely silent, and the footsteps faded into the distance, did Virelle slowly open her eyes. The harsh light shone straight into them, blurring her vision for a moment.

A faint sob escaped from the corner of her lips.

She lifted her hand, staring at the crisscrossing cuts left by shattered glass, then reached up to touch her head, wrapped thickly in bandages.

A dry, hollow laugh slipped out.

Grayson truly disgusted her more with each passing moment.

A man rotten to the very core.

Her heart, which she thought had long since hardened, still throbbed with pain. As if something inside had just shattered into countless pieces, beyond any hope of repair.

No matter what, they had shared years of life together. Yet he hadn’t cared in the slightest whether she lived or died.

All he cared about was the minor scratch on his mistress.

All these years, had she been living with a man, or with a monster?

...

In the days that followed, Virelle spent her time alone in the hospital.

Not a single phone call. Not a single visitor.

Only long stretches of silence, filled with nothing but her own loneliness.

She didn’t dare go see her grandfather, didn’t dare let him know she was injured. So she could only lie, telling him she was on a vacation with Grayson, just to keep him at ease.

During that time, however, she focused on far more important matters.

She put up for sale every piece of jewelry and every designer outfit Grayson had once given her.

She also contacted agents to sell the old apartment she had bought when she first brought her grandfather to this city for treatment.

She searched for the best hospital in Solvang, the place she planned to move to with her grandfather after leaving Grayson, was also where the two of them had lived together ever since she was a child. And also, arranged a room for her grandfather to recuperate there after his surgery was successful.

Finally, she reached out to an old friend, asking for help finding a job in Solvang. Even if it was only as a cashier or a sales assistant, she needed a new job to support herself.

On her last day at the hospital, when the divorce papers arrived, Virelle calmly completed the discharge procedures herself and took a taxi home.

The house remained as luxurious and magnificent as ever.

Only she had changed.

The moment the door opened, angry shouts and the sharp crash of something shattering rang out.

“What the hell did you cook? It tastes awful!”

“Is this dog food? You idiot!”

A plate of food was hurled straight at the maid. She dodged in panic, but the plate shattered against the floor, shards and food scattering everywhere.

Jaxon stood in the middle of the living room, his face flushed with anger.

“Jaxon, don’t be so rude.”

Grayson’s lazy voice drifted from the sofa, yet he didn’t even bother to get up. He simply lay there, idly stroking Selene’s soft hair, their bodies pressed close together in an intimate posture, as if they were husband and wife.

No one truly cared about disciplining Jaxon.

Virelle silently watched the scene for a few seconds. Then she let out a quiet breath and slowly walked toward him.

“Jaxon, we should use polite words."

"I’ve told you that before, haven’t I?”

She stopped in front of him and crouched down, coaxing gently.

“And even if the food doesn’t taste good, you shouldn’t throw it like this. That’s wrong.”

Jaxon glanced at her, a flicker of annoyance crossing his eyes.

“Shut up. I’m not wrong.”

His eyes were red as he glared at her fiercely.

“What right do you have to lecture me? Daddy already said, you’re just a stupid housewife.”

The air tightened in an instant, his words slicing into Virelle’s heart like a blade.

The gentle smile on her lips froze, her chest constricting painfully. Though he wasn’t her biological child, she had always loved Jaxon with everything she had.

Even after learning he was the child of Grayson and Selene, she had never let that truth turn into resentment toward him.

And yet... this was what she received in return?

Jaxon suddenly bent down, grabbed a plate of roasted chicken from the table, and hurled it at her with all his strength.

“Idiot! Get out of this house! Then Daddy, Mommy, and I can be happy together!”

“Get out of here, idiot!”

“I hate you.”

Bang.

A dull, heavy impact echoed as the plate struck Virelle’s head. Sauce and pieces of chicken splattered across her, while a shard of broken porcelain sliced a long cut across her forehead.

Blood trickled down along her temple.

Her gaze turned cold.

She didn’t wipe it away. She only slowly clenched her fingers.

Inside her mind, fragments of memories shattered one by one, the sweet smile Jaxon once gave her, the way he had cried in panic when she was hurt, the soft, tender “Mommy” he had called her for the very first time...

All of it seemed to be crushed into dust, turning distant, as though it had never existed.

Perhaps from the very beginning, she should never have wasted her gentleness and kindness on people who were never worthy of it.

Smack.

The sound rang out, sharp and decisive, as Virelle struck Jaxon across the backside.

“Jaxon, who gave you the right to behave so rudely? It seems everything I’ve taught you all this time has been thrown away!”

“Apologize to the maid. And apologize to me.”

Her voice was cold, devoid of emotion.

Jaxon froze, staring at her with wide, stunned eyes for several seconds.

The next second, he burst into loud, uncontrollable sobs.

His eyes reddened as he struggled wildly, trying to break free, but to no avail.

“Virelle, are you crazy? Why would you suddenly hit Jaxon like that?”

Selene rushed forward, pulling Jaxon tightly into her arms as she lashed out at Virelle.

“Mommy... Virelle hit me... it hurts...”

Jaxon buried his face in Selene’s chest, crying helplessly, which only fueled her anger further as she glared at Virelle.

“Look at him, he’s been frightened like this.”

“How can you be so cruel as a mother?”

Her voice turned sharp with accusation, and Grayson quickly stepped in as well.

“Virelle, Jaxon is still a child, you can’t...”

Before he could finish, Virelle let out a laugh.

It was cold, laced with unmistakable mockery.

“Precisely because he is a child, I have to teach him properly, Grayson.”

She met his eyes directly, emphasizing each word.

“Otherwise, he’ll grow up to be an ill-mannered, uneducated child.”

“And you...”

Virelle shifted her gaze to Selene, her eyes sharp as a blade.

“What’s wrong with me disciplining my own child? What right do you have to interfere?”

Selene’s face paled slightly, her hand freezing midair. She parted her lips, about to respond, but before she could, Virelle continued.

“Besides, if I’m hitting my son, why are you reacting as if I’m hitting yours?”