Page 23 of Vintage

He let out a heavy sigh, rubbed his temple, and then excused himself to go to his office.

His odd reaction left me confused, but I stayed patient. When he returned with an envelope in hand, my bewilderment only grew.

He handed me the envelope and urged me to open it, and I did, feeling apprehensive about what was inside.

Taking the papers and scrutinizing every detail, my gaze instinctively shifted to Darius, confusion etched on my face, disbelief settling in.

"What is this?" My question hit like a punch to the gut.

He merely shrugged and gestured toward the document. "Don't ask, but it's definitely something you wanted, Amery. You requested it, and he delivered."

Was this way of speaking his new mojo?

"I know exactly what this is. I'm asking why, Darius. Ro said to give him another chance, so why would he send me divorce papers? It makes no sense."

I crumpled the documents in my grip, waiting for a response.

"I don't know. Don't ask me why... He just sent the papers over and emailed me to give them to you. Once you sign, I’m supposed to file them with the court." His explanation made my fists clench with frustration.

I understood that what transpired between us was wrong, but Ro promised he would change. He served his time during those three months in prison, so why this?

“I will come back to you, Mrs. Rowan. Nothing can keep us apart. There’s no force that can prevent me from loving you.”

His words linger in my dreams almost every night, interspersed with the memories I cherish from our time together.

When I shared the news about Ro with our families, neither his nor mine could accept it, and honestly, I still struggle to comprehend his actions. Whattranspired between us feels trivial compared to the overwhelming presence of one name:Willow.

I vividly recall how Darius had his crew keeping an eye on me. I was under constant watch from the moment Ro was arrested until I moved back to my parents' home.

While our families were in disbelief, they still stood by me. However, his parents had a request.

"I know you must feel disgusted by our son, and we do not condone his actions, but if there’s any chance you could find it in your heart to forgive him, we would be grateful."Ro's father had always treated me kindly, making it difficult to face him. Even though the guilt wasn’t mine, I felt a pang of sorrow for their pain.

His mother embraced me as well, offering her apologies for her son’s behavior.

They did everything they could to support my choices. They expressed,"Our only loss is losing a daughter like you, but we hope you’ll still consider visiting us on weekends if it’s not too difficult. If it is, we completely understand and wish you all the best for the future."

They treated me like family, and I never felt blamed or judged in their presence. It empowered me to believe that perhaps, despite everything, their parenting couldn’t have been so flawed that Ro would forget the meaning of consent in any relationship.

I didn’t mind his roughness, but I despised how he made me feel—like I was nothing more than a mere plaything for his desires. He made me feel used. Humiliated. Cheap.

His parents never shared what they discussed with their son during the phone call. However, the look in their eyes during my last visit before my flight to NC spoke volumes. There was a deep pain there, as if they were concealing a hurt that only they could comprehend. They were grappling with shadows that remained invisible to everyone else.

I longed to be part of their world again, even though I was the one who chose to step away.

"When was the last time you saw him?" I couldn't resist asking. My mind was racing with an unshakeable feeling that I had overlooked something significant about Ro.

"The day he got out." Darius tightened his jaw, and I stood there, wide-eyed and stunned, unable to process the information.

It had been over three months and two weeks, to be exact!

"Why did you leave him by himself?!" Anger surged through me. The thought of Ro being alone, struggling with his problems without anyone to confide in, infuriated me.

My breath hitched, a scream lodged in my throat, and my heart raced, each beat feeling hollow and lifeless.

Did he choose solitude as a form of self-punishment?

That wasn’t like him; he was never the type to seek isolation. He always needed at least one person by his side. He had always made sure of that.