Chapter 2: The Last Straw

Her lips pressed tight, her whole face lost. She stared at the floor, searching for a way out.

Honestly, I was done. My chest felt hollow, like something inside me had finally snapped for good.

I didn’t wait for more excuses. I just said it:

“Natalie, let’s get divorced.”

“Cheating and lying—once it starts, it never really ends, does it? I can’t trust you anymore.” My voice was cold, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to walk it back.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, voice shaking but defiant. “Fine, I lied. The general manager is into me. I only lied to avoid drama.” She squared her shoulders, ready for a fight.

“I’m not getting any younger. If you want out, how are you going to make up for all the time I wasted on you?”

There it was—the truth, raw and ugly. Our college romance, our marriage—it was just a waste of her best years, at least in her eyes. She wouldn’t even meet my gaze.

I always knew she was competitive. Student council, campus events, you name it—she had to be the star. She’d do anything for the spotlight, and if she wasn’t in it, she’d claw her way back in.

Now, at work, she’d sink this low for a quick promotion. I felt embarrassed for both of us.

At this point, I couldn’t tell what was real from her anymore. Every word felt rehearsed, part of a show I was tired of watching.

“Caleb, except for being broke, you’re almost perfect—looks, body, everything.” She said it like a compliment, but it twisted the knife.

“So I’m willing to give you another shot. Tell me, are you really serious about divorcing?”

She curled her lips into a faint, smug smile—the same look she’d always give when she thought she had me pegged. Even now, after everything, she acted like she was the one giving me a chance. The arrogance suffocated me.

Three letters flashed through my mind—GAS. I almost laughed. I could picture her spinning this to her friends, painting herself the victim.

“I’m serious,” I said, holding her gaze.

“I’d rather end it than keep wondering if you’re going to cheat on me every day.”

“Without me, you can do whatever you want.” I saw the relief in her eyes. That stung more than anything else.

Her smile faded. She stared at me for a long time, her lips parting. “Caleb, you don’t have to be so petty.” Her tone dripped with condescension, like I was the one ruining everything.

I shook my head, done talking. I insisted we get the divorce finalized today. No more arguing. I just wanted out.

The general manager barged into the lounge, chest puffed out:

“Natalie, just divorce him. Always acting so high and mighty.” His voice was gleeful, like he’d been waiting for this.

“I’ll tell HR—the director job is yours. We’ll pop champagne tonight.”

He looked at Natalie with hungry eyes and slung his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t even flinch. She just let it happen, like it was nothing.

“He doesn’t appreciate you, but plenty of guys do. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

She didn’t pull away, just nodded, grateful. The sight made my stomach twist.

I let out a harsh laugh. I couldn’t help it. It sounded too bitter, but I didn’t care.

She felt like a stranger now—someone cold, someone who wanted power more than love.

“You said, once you put the ring on my finger, you’d give me all your loyalty and passion.”

I remembered our wedding night, the way she’d whispered promises in the dark. Turns out, people change—or maybe we just stop pretending.

I met the general manager’s smug gaze, bitterness and possessiveness surging in my chest:

“Natalie, if you slap him, quit, and leave with me, I’ll act like none of this ever happened.”

I looked at her, searching for a reason to believe she still cared. If she was willing, I’d let the past go.

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up—the time we’d agreed on. I could even take her home.

The general manager burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. His laugh echoed, loud and mocking.

Natalie frowned, a flicker of disgust in her eyes:

“Caleb, why can’t you just get it?”

“Do you know what this company’s worth? Do you know what a director makes?” She spoke like I was some clueless intern, not her husband. It stung.

“Forget it, let’s get divorced. Your world’s too small. We’re just not the same.” She shrugged, her tone final.

Her words hit hard. For a second, I saw every good thing we’d shared crumble.

The general manager clapped and grinned. “Come on, I’ll drive you both to the courthouse.” He jingled his keys, already celebrating.

I grabbed Natalie’s wrist, pulling her toward me. I just wanted her to look at me, just once, the way she used to.

The general manager shoved me hard against the wall:

“You little punk, touch her again and see what happens!” His breath was hot and sour, his grip bruising.

I grabbed his collar, shoving him back:

“As long as we’re not divorced, she’s still my wife. Why can’t I touch her?”

“But you—I call you Mr. Harris out of courtesy. Without that, who are you to yell at me?” My voice shook, but I held my ground.

Natalie’s face went pale. She rushed over, shouting for me to let go:

“Caleb, let go! If you hurt him, your life is over!”

Of course, I knew what she meant. For someone to be general manager this young, his family had to have serious pull. His dad’s name was a threat at every board meeting.

But the more I looked at his face, the angrier I got.

What to do?

I pulled a Sharpie from my pocket—usually for files, never for this.

He struggled, and I kneed him hard in the groin. The room went dead silent, then he doubled over with a howl.

He howled, clutching himself, and spat, “Caleb, you reckless jerk! Do you know who my dad is?!”

I popped the cap and pressed the marker to his cheek. The Sharpie squeaked over his skin, the scent of permanent ink mixing with the metallic tang of blood from a fresh cut as I scrawled ‘BS’—one letter on each cheek.

I pressed harder, making his pale skin bleed and his screams echo louder. I realized I’d gone too far, but I didn’t care.

Natalie finally panicked, screaming for help. Her voice carried down the hall, and a crowd rushed in.

Coworkers spilled into the room, knocking over chairs and tables in the chaos.

“Oh my god, Mr. Harris, are you okay?”

“Hurry, get some tissues!”

“Move, I’ll get a chair!”

……

Everyone fell over themselves to help. The whole thing was almost a bad sitcom—the way people scrambled for him.

But what hurt most was seeing Natalie in the crowd, gently cupping the general manager’s face, blowing on his wounds. The sight burned—a thousand tiny cuts every time I closed my eyes.

My heart felt crushed. First anger, then numbness, then nothing at all. Something inside me just switched off.

Eventually, Natalie pushed through the crowd and glared at me:

“You really are hopeless.” She rolled her eyes, but her jaw trembled—like she was holding something back. “Let’s go to the courthouse now.” Her voice was all business, cold and distant.

At the divorce, she didn’t say another word. She just kept urging the clerk to hurry up. The courthouse buzzed with people, but it felt like we were the only two in the world. When the stamp hit the paper, it sounded like a gavel—final, unforgiving.

When we got the papers, she snapped a photo and posted it to her Instagram story, like a weight had finally lifted. Then she looked up at me and said:

“Caleb, believe it or not, I never regretted marrying you.”

“But in the end, we’re just not meant to be.”

……