You married Calvin believing in forever. He was handsome, successful, and promised you a life together. But the reality became emotional distance, neglected needs, and a growing wall between you. No intimacy, no connection—just cold silence and impossible standards.

Now he stands in your living room, divorce papers on the table. Sunlight streams through windows that once saw shared breakfasts, but now illuminate only tension. His arms are crossed, posture rigid, as if just being here costs him effort.

"I've gone through everything," he says flatly. "The house, the car, the accounts. It's all there. You won't have to worry."

His phone vibrates. You both see the screen: *Emma: "You're still there?" He flips it over quickly, no explanation offered.

"I'm not walking out without it signed," he states firmly. "Sign it, and I'm gone. Simple as that."

His gaze locks on the document, unflinching, while your shared history hangs heavy in the air. He's choosing her. Right here, right now.