Divorce and Final Goodbye

The house was eerily quiet when I returned from the concert hall. My body felt hollow, drained of everything but the echo of those damning videos and the audience's gasps. I had managed to call a taxi, somehow navigated the pitying looks of the driver, and made it home without completely falling apart.

The living room lights were on. Sebastian sat in his leather armchair, back straight, hands folded neatly on his lap. A stack of papers rested on the coffee table before him.

"Come in, Sophie," he said, his voice unnervingly calm. "We need to discuss your... performance tonight."

I stepped inside, my concert dress still clinging to my skin, my hair coming loose from its elegant updo. "Sebastian, I—"

"Save it." He gestured to the papers. "Divorce papers. Already signed on my end."

My heart stuttered. Despite everything, despite the humiliation and cruelty, some foolish part of me had still hoped...

But then Sebastian leaned forward and picked up the papers. With deliberate slowness, he tore them in half, then quarters, then eighths, letting the pieces flutter to the floor between us.

"You don't deserve the mercy of escape," he said, his voice rising with each word. "You think you can humiliate me? Make me look like a fool in front of everyone?"

"I didn't do anything," I whispered, my fingers finding my wedding ring, rubbing it anxiously.

"LIAR!" The word exploded from him like a gunshot. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. "Those videos—our private moments—appeared on every screen during your precious performance. And you expect me to believe it was coincidence?"

Sebastian advanced toward me, backing me against our grand piano—the same one where I'd once played our wedding song while he stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

"Tell me how you did it," he demanded, his face inches from mine. "Tell me how you orchestrated this revenge."

"I had nothing to do with it," I insisted, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay calm. "Sebastian, please—"

His hand shot out, grabbing the jade charm around my neck—his mother's final gift to me. "This," he snarled, yanking it roughly. "This is what you care about, isn't it? Her precious secrets."

"Sebastian, don't—"

"Admit it," he roared, his face contorted with rage. "Admit you leaked those videos!"

I couldn't speak. What could I say? That I had nothing to do with it? That I was as blindsided as everyone else? He wouldn't believe me.

My silence seemed to fuel his fury. He released the charm with a shove that sent me stumbling backward.

"Get out of my sight," he spat. "But don't think this is over."

I fled to my bedroom, locking the door behind me as his fists pounded against it, each blow accompanied by accusations and demands that I face the consequences of my "betrayal."

---

Morning light filtered through the garden's rose bushes, casting dappled shadows across the stone bench where I sat. I hadn't changed out of my concert dress—hadn't moved since dawn broke over the horizon.

The sound of the garden gate opening barely registered until a familiar voice spoke my name.

"Sophie?"

I looked up to see Colt Jacobs standing at the entrance to the garden, concern etched across his features. He wore casual clothes—jeans and a light sweater—as though he'd come straight from his morning routine.

"I heard about last night," he said gently, approaching slowly as though I might shatter. "Are you... are you okay?"

Something about his quiet presence—the absence of judgment or pity in his eyes—broke the fragile dam I'd built around my emotions.

"No," I whispered, and then the floodgates opened.

Sobs wracked my body as I buried my face in my hands. Colt hesitated only briefly before sitting beside me, his arm coming around my shoulders with careful gentleness.

"He thinks I did it," I choked out between sobs. "The videos... he thinks I leaked them to humiliate him."

Colt's arm tightened slightly around me. "Of course you didn't."

"I can't remember things properly anymore," I confessed, the words tumbling out with my tears. "What if... what if I did something and forgot? What if I really am losing my mind?"

"That's not how Alzheimer's works, Sophie," Colt said softly, his voice steady against my ear. "And even if you were, you would never do something like that."

I turned into his chest then, really crying for the first time since this nightmare began—crying for the woman I used to be, for the man Sebastian had been, for all the love we'd lost somewhere along the way.

"You don't have to keep enduring this," Colt murmured into my hair. "You know that, right?"

---

"Have you lost your mind?" Marcus Thompson stood in Sebastian's office, his normally composed features twisted with disgust.

Sebastian looked up from his computer, irritation flashing across his face. "To what are you referring?"

"Don't play games with me," Marcus snapped. "I've known you since college. I've watched you transform into someone I barely recognize since your mother died."

"Careful, Marcus," Sebastian warned, setting down his pen.

"And now this—publicly humiliating Sophie with those videos, then blaming her for it? What kind of monster have you become?"

"I know what I saw," Sebastian insisted, his voice hardening. "My mother asked for help. Sophie refused."

"Or maybe," Marcus said carefully, "your grief has distorted your memory of that day."

Sebastian stood abruptly, his chair rolling back against the wall. "Get out."

"Sebastian—"

"GET OUT!" Sebastian roared, pointing to the door. "You're fired. Get your things and leave."

Marcus stared at him for a long moment before turning toward the door. "She loved you," he said quietly. "More than you ever deserved."

As the door closed behind him, Sebastian sank back into his chair, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for the framed photo on his desk—a picture of happier times, when love still seemed possible.