Tenth Anniversary, Getting Divorced

I slipped into a nightgown, the soft fabric brushing against my skin as I walked out of the bedroom. Zane had already found his navy-blue tie and the sight of him holding it with an air of triumph made my blood boil. I couldn't help but sneer, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought you were blind and disabled; apparently, you can find it just fine."

His face hardened instantly, his eyes flashing with anger. The warmth of the morning was quickly replaced by a chill as he glared at me. "Amy, what's your problem? You used to help me find things without complaint."

I crossed my arms, refusing to back down. "True, but from now on, I don't want to do it. You can have your secretary help you," I shot back, my voice steady but icy.

Zane's expression wavered, his face darkening as he processed my words. "I knew you were acting up. Is this another jealousy fit over Maeve? I've told you a thousand times, I only see her as a sister!"

I took a step closer, my eyes narrowing as I glared at him, standing on tiptoe to meet his gaze. "A sister? So last night, a ‘sister' gives her ‘brother' red roses—a symbol of romantic affection—and hugs him like that? And then the entire company cheers for them to kiss?"

My voice rose with frustration, the hurt and betrayal clear in every syllable. "Zane, I'm not an idiot. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

Zane's bravado faltered, his shoulders slumping slightly. He turned away from me, mumbling defensively, "Oh, so it's about this. It was all for show; the atmosphere was what it was. I didn't want to ruin everyone's fun. You wouldn't understand the need to play along. Besides, I only kissed her on the cheek, not on the lips…"

My anger surged, my heart pounding in my chest. "Oh, so if the crowd had urged you to go to bed with her, you would have gone along with that too, wouldn't you?" I challenged, my voice sharp with accusation.

Zane's face grew tense, his anger boiling over. He threw up his hands dismissively. "You're impossible to reason with sometimes! I have nothing more to say to you!"

With that, he snatched his coat from the hook, his movements brusque and filled with irritation. He stormed toward the door, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. I watched him, a mix of sadness and resolve in my eyes.

As he reached the door, I called out calmly, though my voice trembled slightly. "Zane, let's get a divorce."

I saw his back stiffen, his body language betraying the shock of my words. He paused for a moment, but then, with a final slam of the door, he stormed out of the house, leaving me alone in the cold silence that followed.

The echo of the door's slam hung in the air. I stood there, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily on my shoulders. The realization of what I had said and the finality of it left me feeling both liberated and hollow.