Chapter 4

Rachel’s handbag slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a thud.

Liam couldn't hide the smirk creeping onto his face. He looked ready to pop champagne.

He’d been angling for this exact outcome for months.

Rachel’s brow furrowed. She let out a sharp, nervous laugh.

"Are you drunk, Austin? Did you sleep through your alarm and lose your mind? Say that again."

I didn't blink.

"I said: Rachel, I want a divorce."

I waited for her to agree.

Instead, she just stared at me, trying to figure out if this was a desperate bluff.

After an awkward silence, she looked away, her tone suddenly turning patronizingly soft.

"Look, I'll pretend you're just stressed and talking nonsense. I'm not going to hold it against you."

"You don't throw around the D-word just because you had a bad day. That's childish."

"We've been together for years. We know each other inside out. Couples like us don't just split over a misunderstanding."

"I'm staying at a hotel near the office tonight. Stay home, cool off, and don't ever say something that stupid again."

She didn't give me room to reply. She spun around and walked straight out. Liam hurried after her, throwing a baffled glance over his shoulder.

I almost laughed.

They had spent months parading their emotional affair right in front of my face. Tonight, they literally flaunted it before high-profile clients. I honestly thought she’d jump at the chance to make it official with Liam.

Whatever. It didn't matter.

Tomorrow, I'd have the paperwork drafted. Once she saw the legal reality, she'd sign fast enough.

I pulled the duvet over my head and fell into a deep sleep until noon.

My phone was completely silent when I woke up. No calls, no texts. Perfect.

I dialed my attorney, had him draft a clean uncontested divorce settlement, and printed it out.

Once that was settled, I got dressed and texted some old friends from my art school days.

Those guys were the ones who used to paint through the night with me in dirty studios, witnessing my rawest creative highs.

When I gave it all up for Rachel, they called me a certified idiot. They hated seeing someone throw away undeniable talent for domestic bliss.

Back then, I ignored them. Love felt worth the sacrifice.

Now, the moment I told them I was picking up the brush again, they booked a private room at our favorite bistro to welcome me back.

"Austin, man! We don't care why you finally came to your senses, we're just damn glad you're back!"

"Hell yes! We're already putting together a group exhibition for next month. Let's launch a shared studio space, just like old times!"