The Moon Shines Bright as Home

Nicole worked quickly. By the next afternoon, a meticulously worded divorce agreement had landed in my inbox.

I printed two copies, signed them, and began to pack.

Truth be told, not much in the villa truly belonged to me. Apart from clothes and a few books, everything else bore Carl’s stamp.

I called the movers, had all my personal belongings boxed up, and shipped them back to my own apartment—a cozy, modest place my parents had bought for me before the marriage.

With that done, I looked at the now-empty walk-in closet and study. Not a flicker of nostalgia stirred within me.

Carl returned that evening.

My absence seemed to catch him off guard. He frowned at the vacant shelves in the entryway shoe cabinet.

After changing his shoes, he walked straight into the living room. There I was, seated on the sofa, the starkly conspicuous divorce agreement resting on the coffee table.

His expression froze for an instant before settling back into its usual cold indifference.

"Patricia," he said, loosening his tie, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What game are you playing now? Over a shirt? Is this your way of forcing me to back down because you can't write that apology letter?"

I looked up, meeting his gaze calmly.

"This isn’t a game, Carl. Look closely. It’s a divorce agreement, not an apology letter."

He scoffed, strode over, picked up the document, and flipped through it carelessly before tossing it back onto the table like trash.

"I don’t have time for your theatrics. You have three days to move your things back. Then we can pretend this never happened."

With that, he turned to head upstairs, as if another word with me would be a waste of breath.

That was Carl—always arrogant, always in control.

He was used to my repeated compromises and concessions. It never crossed his mind that I would actually leave.

"Carl." I stopped him.

He halted but didn’t turn.

"There’s no ‘pretend this never happened’ for us anymore." My voice was quiet but firm. "I want a fair division of marital assets, as the law provides. This villa is pre-marital property; I don’t want it. I have no interest in your company shares, either. I only want what’s rightfully mine—in cash or real estate."

He finally turned, looking down at me with simmering anger.

"Patricia, do you have any idea what you’re saying? You think divorce is some kind of game? Without me, do you really believe you can keep living this cushioned life?"

"Whether I can or not is no longer your concern." I stood, meeting his gaze head-on. "I’m giving you one week. If you don’t agree to an uncontested divorce, we’ll see each other in court."

His face darkened completely, as if coated in frost.

"You’re threatening me?"

"I’m informing you." I picked up my bag. "I’ve already signed my copy. The other one is for you. When you’ve made up your mind, contact my lawyer."

I walked past him without a backward glance.