She Got the Chicken Soup, I Served the Divorce

Julia's POV

After saying that, Adrian scooped Camille up in his arms and walked right out of the event hall.

The room turned so quiet that it felt like even the air stopped moving.

I forced a polite smile. "Everyone, please enjoy your meal."

When I got home, the left side of my face was still faintly burning. Once I got Lila to sleep, I sank onto the couch.

My cheeks were wet, and my skin felt taut from dried tears. It was as if someone had crammed a dozen lemons into my chest and was beating on them with both fists.

Everything inside me ached, swollen, and stretched too far. Even breathing hurt.

It was late into the night when I finally heard the door creak open. Adrian stepped inside. He remained silent at first, slowly reaching for my face as if he had any right to do so.

I turned away.

“I was wrong, Julia,” Adrian whispered, kneeling at my feet and pressing his cheek lightly to my knee, like that would soften anything.

“But come on, you hit her first. Camille was drunk. She said some stupid crap. How could you take it seriously?”

He tried to smile, like we were in the middle of some harmless misunderstanding. Then he stood, leaned in, and brushed his nose against mine.

“Can you forgive me?”

The moonlight cast a glow across the floor.

That’s when I saw it.

A faint lipstick mark, just below the collar of his shirt.

The color was soft, but the message was loud and clear.

I picked up the divorce agreement from the coffee table and held it out.

Then I said calmly, “Adrian, let’s get divorced.”

“Divorce?” He blinked, stunned, like he hadn’t seen this coming from a mile away.

Adrian snatched the papers and started flipping through them like they were written in another language. When he realized I wasn’t bluffing, he threw them right at my face. The divorce papers struck my chest and fluttered to the floor.

Adrian’s voice exploded across the room. “Are you insane, Julia? Lila just turned one, and you’re already trying to divorce me? You think divorce is something you just say and boom, it’s done?”

He started pacing, hands running through his hair, as if trying to pull the right words out of his scalp.

“I know I screwed up today. I hit you. But you think that just came outta nowhere?”

He turned to me then, eyes flashing, not with regret, but with justification.

“I already apologized! What more do you want?”

He threw his arms up in frustration, like my silence was the real betrayal. “Stop acting like some spoiled damn princess!”

He pointed a finger at me now, sharp, jabbing. “Seriously, grow up. You’re a mom now. Keeping the family together should come first!"

Adrian kept going, voice rising with every word. He didn’t even notice the tears running down my face, not once. My cheek was still sore from the earlier incident. A staple on a folder had scraped it, and now the salt in my tears made it sting all over again.

Adrian reached for his wallet out of reflex and then froze halfway, like someone had hit pause on him.

I looked him dead in the eye as I asked, “You gave your last band-aid to Camille, didn’t you? And you ordered her chicken soup too.”

He straightened up a little, trying to keep cool.

“So what? That doesn’t mean anything. You’re really divorcing me over a Band-Aid and a bowl of chicken soup? You’re blowing this way out of proportion, Julia!"

His voice was too loud.

Lila’s wail came sharp from the bedroom, echoing through the walls and cutting straight into my nerves.

Adrian winced, already annoyed, his brow folding with frustration.

I turned to him and asked quietly, “Do you even know where her bottle and formula are?”

That stopped him cold.

Adrian blinked in silence, unsure of what to say.

Of course, he didn’t know. Ever since the baby was born, Adrian believed taking care of Lila was my job. It had nothing to do with him as a father.

Right then, I grabbed the bottle, walked toward the bedroom, and paused at the door.

Then I turned back. I picked up a pen and signed the divorce papers.

As I handed him the papers, I said flatly, “You should sign it, too. If not, I’ll file for divorce on the grounds of infidelity. And if it gets to that point, you won’t get a single benefit out of this marriage.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but I reached out and touched the face I had once loved so deeply.

“Your mouth still tastes like the red wine Camille drank tonight. What happened between you two? Hard to say, isn’t it?”

After settling Lila and getting her back to sleep, I came out to find the living room empty.

Adrian was gone.

The divorce papers were shredded and scattered all over the trash like confetti after a war. Even the pen I’d used to sign them had been snapped clean in two, as if breaking it would somehow erase the decision.

On the coffee table sat a designer shopping bag, almost camouflaged by the chaos around it. The same one Adrian had been hiding behind his back when he walked in.

Inside was a neatly folded, limited-edition cashmere baby throw.

I stared at it for a long time, unable to look away.

My chest tightened, and slowly, my gaze dimmed.