Page 72 of Convenient Vows

I swallow hard, leaning back in the chair.

There’s no anger in me, well, not yet. There’s only confusion. The kind that feels like frost creeping up from your chest, turning your limbs stiff and hollow.

If divorce is what she wants—if being married to me feels like suffocation to her—then I’ll give her what she asked for.

I push myself out of my chair and walk to the cabinet where I’ve kept the bracelet. I open the velvet box and look at the piece of jewellery. It is simple and clean, not flashy—just something elegant. Something I imagined on her wrist when she’d reach for her coffee, when she’d dance barefoot across the kitchen, and when she’d touch me.

I had hoped to have her wear only this bracelet as she moans my name. Now I stare at it with a clenched jaw. I was going to give her this tonight and tell her that I wanted more. Planned to say it over a romantic dinner because she deserved to be wooed. I chose the restaurant myself: candlelight, fine wine, and the same dessert she once said reminded her of her childhood.

I even let Lev and Viktor join in the plans. Took their teasing like a man because it was worth it. I close the box, walk back to my room, and flop down on top of the covers, still dressed.

The lights are off. The ceiling stares back at me. My body aches, but it’s not from anything physical. It’s the weight in my chest. The silence pressing in on all sides. And her absence.

I close my eyes and see her dancing barefoot in the kitchen, swaying to a tune she only half remembers, and laughing when she catches me watching.

The way she scrunched her nose when the pancakes got too brown on one side, and how she curls into me at night as if I were home.

Mara had grown accustomed to teasing me. Calling me a grump. A caveman. Her caveman. She said it with a smirk, but now she won’t even let me near her.

What the hell happened between this afternoon and tonight? I thought she was mine. Not in a way that meant ownership. But in a way that meant we had carved out something real.

Was I wrong all along? Was I the only one who was falling? And what does she mean when she says she has had enough of me?

I turn onto my side, but it doesn’t help. The bed feels too big. Too empty. And all I can do is wonder.

After what feels like centuries, I push off the bed, joints stiff, spine tight like I haven’t slept at all—because I haven’t. I get off the bed and walk to the door. I’m going to Mara to get answers to my questions because I have fallen for her, and she is not going to walk away and leave me on my knees.

As I approach her door, I hear her on the phone.

“It is over,” she says, “And I am leaving him. There is no point in staying here anymore.” There is a pause, and then she tells whoever is on the other end that she will see them the next day.

The bracelet nearly slips from my grip, but I hold it tighter and quietly retrace my steps to my room, fully aware that we can no longer share a future together.

When I reach my room, I hold the bracelet for a moment longer than intended, knowing I’ll never see it on her. Then, I place it gently in the top drawer and close it with a quiet final click.

Feeling battered, like I have been physically hit by a truck, I pull out my overnight bag and start packing. Shirts. Knife. Phone charger. No thought. Just muscle memory. There’d be no confrontation between us.

I zip the bag shut.

She says she doesn’t want me.

And I won’t beg someone to stay where they don’t want to be.

Xiomara

The next morning, as I walk into the Delgado estate, the guards give me little nods. One of the maids offers a soft smile and murmurs, “Good morning, señora.”

I nod back politely, but I don’t return the smile. I’m not sure I have one left.

The hedges are still perfectly trimmed. The fountain in the center courtyard still gurgles softly. The air smells like citrus and roses—just like it always did.

And yet everything feels different.

I feel different, and even though I was raised in this place, I don’t belong here anymore. I walk slowly through the halls, my sandals clicking softly against the marble floors. Every step feels heavy, like I’m dragging a version of myself I no longer recognize.

No tears have fallen from my eyes since this morning. There is no way I’m going to keep crying over someone who couldn’t wait to see me walk out of his life. Even Cristóbal has encouraged me not to cry, and it is in times like these, I feel grateful to have him.

He didn’t laugh in my face when I called him. Instead, he offered to come get me this morning, but I declined the offer, knowing I didn’t want to talk to my parents in his presence.

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