Divorce Is Unnecessary

The second time I brought up the divorce was three years ago. That very night, Terrence went back to Fulton Manor.

After that, I only got to see my child once a week.

Over the seven years we were together, Terrence had learned exactly where my weak points were. He made it so that I could not leave.

This was my third attempt at getting a divorce.

Maybe out of sympathy, the lawyer, Mr. Lansing, agreed to take my case.

When he took the marriage certificate from me, his eyes widened dramatically.

“Ms. Mercer, this marriage certificate is fake! You and Mr. Fulton are not legally married.”

“What?” I was so shocked that I jumped up from my seat. I thought that I had heard wrong.

“How can the marriage certificate be fake? Please look again carefully.”

Mr. Lansing looked at the certificate properly.

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Mercer. This marriage certificate is truly fake.”

I burst out laughing. I laughed until tears streamed down my face.

Seven years! That was 2,555 days!

In all that time, I asked myself every day why I had ever trusted Terrence. Why had I agreed to marry him?

Marrying into the Fulton family had been like serving myself up on a platter to a heartless monster.

It had taken me seven years to fully see the truth and six of those years to gather the courage to seek a divorce.

But the lawyer was telling me that Terrence and I had never really been married at all.

It was no wonder that the members of the Fulton family called me a tramp. This was why they slandered me.

I was really no different from the other women in Terrence’s life.

I wiped away my tears and thanked Mr. Lansing for his kindness.

Since we were not married, it would be much simpler to leave Terrence.

Only, I could not quite let go of Nate.

Nate was my son. He would be five years old this year.

Giving birth to him had been difficult, and I had lost a lot of blood. I had nearly died on the surgery table.

I remembered hearing the doctor ask Terrence, in my semiconscious state, whether they should prioritize saving the baby or me if it came down to it.

Terrence did not even hesitate to respond.

“The baby.”

His cold words had ripped me out of the haze. I kept telling myself that I could not die. Nate could not survive without his mother.

It was this thought that had dragged me from the edge of death.

Nate was the only reason that I still had the will to live.

Yet, two days after giving birth, Terrence’s mother, Georgia, forcefully took him away.

She said, “It’s for his own good that the baby won’t be raised by you, Kendra. Don’t forget, you’re just a tramp who crawled out from an alley. If he stays with you, he’ll just be mistreated, just like you.”

Even if it was humiliating, I bore the brunt of their mockery just so Nate could have a better life.

I woke from my nightmares countless times, clutching the clothes and toys I had prepared for my son. I sobbed till my eyes were swollen.

My crying occasionally woke Terrence up. When that happened, he would show me a video clip of Nate.

I had survived on those videos for three years!

When I had asked for a divorce again, Georgia finally allowed me to see Nate once a week.

Today was one of those days.

When I got to Fulton Manor, it was very quiet.

I stood at the door and shouted for ten minutes or so, but no one came to the door.

That was right. I had been Mrs. Fulton for seven years, but I still did not have the right to go in and out of Fulton Manor as I pleased.

One of the servants passing by could not bear to watch any longer and told me that Terrence had taken Nate away early that morning.

I let out a bitter laugh. I knew that this was Terrence’s punishment.

Every time this happened, I was forced to give in. I traded my dignity for the right to see my son.

I took a deep breath.

For Nate, I had to call Terrence.

“Hello? Mommy!” came a familiar child’s voice. It was Nate.

Instantly, tears pricked my eyes, and I could feel my heart melt.

It was my son.