“She filed for divorce.”
Maya did not respond immediately.
Zayn rubbed his forehead.
“She had the papers ready.”
“Before last night?”
“Yes.”
That question bothered him because Maya understood its meaning instantly.
Audrey had not walked away because of one sentence in one restaurant.
The sentence had only confirmed what months of deception had already taught her.
Maya finally spoke.
“What happens now?”
Zayn looked at the signed pages.
For the first time, he realized he had no answer.
The night before, he had presented everything as a plan.
Maya would give birth.
He would support her financially.
Audrey would accept the child.
Their marriage would continue.
He had arranged three lives in his imagination without asking either woman whether she wanted the role he had assigned her.
Now one of those women had simply refused to participate.
“I need time,” he said.
Maya’s voice hardened slightly.
“You told me Audrey would understand.”
“I thought she would.”
“You told me she wanted a child.”
“She did.”
“That doesn’t mean she wanted mine.”
Zayn closed his eyes.
The sentence was obvious.
Painfully obvious.
Yet somehow he had never allowed himself to say it that plainly.
“I’ll call you later,” he said.
He ended the conversation and remained alone at the table.
By noon, Audrey had turned off her phone.
Elise had made tea she barely touched and placed a blanket over the back of the sofa even though Audrey was not cold.
“You can stay as long as you need,” Elise said.
Audrey nodded.
For the first time since the restaurant, tears threatened.
Not because she wanted Zayn back.
Because kindness suddenly reminded her how little kindness she had accepted at home.
She looked down at her hands.
“I kept thinking if I were more patient, things would become normal again.”
Elise sat opposite her.
“How long did you suspect something?”
“I didn’t know about Maya.
Not for certain.”
“But you knew something was wrong.”
Audrey nodded.
“He stopped being present.
Even when he was standing right beside me, it felt like he was somewhere else.”
That was why she had prepared the folder.
Not because she had discovered the pregnancy.
Not because she had proof of an affair.
Because she had finally understood that a marriage could become unsafe for the heart long before anyone admitted why.
Preparing the documents had been her way of reminding herself she still had a choice.
She had hoped never to use them.
