Page 71 of Convenient Vows

The nausea rises so quickly I have to summon all my will power to push it down. The thought of him touching me—of pretending that things are great between us, makes my stomach twist.

“I want out of this marriage.” I say with all the strength that I have left.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t even fucking blink.

The only sign that he’s heard me is the way his jaw tightens and his teeth clench so hard I can hear it.

I keep going. I need to say it all. I need to be clear.

“We agreed to a year, but I can’t do it anymore. I thought I could. But I don’t want to be in something that makes me feel like I’m being suffocated.”

My voice wavers, but I don’t let it break. I am going to stand tall and beat him at his own game.

“I want a divorce.”

He doesn’t move. He just stares at me, something unreadable darkening his eyes.

“Is that what you really want?”

I nod once, slow and tight. “Yes.”

He stares at me for what seem like forever, then he gives a single, curt nod. And without saying another word, he turns and walks out of the room.

As the door closes behind him, I collapse back on the bed, with my chest aching like I ripped something vital out of it.

26

Chapter 22

Zasha

I close her door behind me and walk down the hall as if I’m moving through a haze of smoke. It feels like I’ve been sucker-punched and am waiting for my legs to give out.

I make it to my study. The door clicks shut behind me, and I lock it. Not because I think she’ll come after me. I know she won’t.

Her words still echo in my head, sharp and emotionless:

“I want a divorce.”

I sit down heavily in the chair behind my desk. My elbows hit the wood with more force than I intend. My hands drag down my face, as though trying to make sure this is not a fucking dream.

I can’t make sense of it.

Just hours ago, she was wrapped around me like she couldn’t get enough of me. We kissed like we were starving. We touched like we were finally crossing a threshold neither of us had dared name out loud.

I felt her, not just on top or under me, but with me. She was present. Open. Real.

It was fucking real for me. So, what the hell happened between then and now?

Did I misread everything?

How could I?

I pride myself on being able to read people. It’s not just a skill—it’s my survival. I’ve built alliances and avoided ambushes by trusting my gut and reading the truth behind a man’s smile.

And somehow, I missed this?

Was it only ever physical for her? Some sort of distraction? Maybe she was only using me to fill the silence while we waited for the clock on our arrangement to run out.

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