Chapter 31 - Seraphina

I had just spent hours with Nick, helping him pick out a ring for Lyra. He had asked for my help because I knew Lyra's tastes—what she liked, what she didn't, the little things that made her smile. It had been a good day, a light-hearted day, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it. We laughed, we talked, and for the first time in a while, I didn't feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. Nick's excitement was contagious, and I was genuinely happy for him. He was about to confess his feelings to someone he cared about deeply. He was about to take a step forward, the one I had been too afraid to take with Adrian.

When I left the mall, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from Adrian. "Meet me in my office. I need to talk to you."

I felt a mix of curiosity and apprehension. It wasn't like him to request a meeting so suddenly. But I smiled softly, thinking it was probably just business or something trivial, and agreed without a second thought. I was naïve then. I had no idea what awaited me.

When I walked into his office, the air felt different—heavier, colder. The usual warmth that filled the space when we were together was gone. Adrian was sitting at his desk, his back to me, and I couldn't read his expression. It was always hard for me to get a sense of what he was truly feeling, but today, something was different. Today, I felt an unease settling deep inside me, something sharp that I couldn't shake off. My heart began to race, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I was being swallowed by this strange, unsettling silence that hung in the room.

Adrian didn't look at me right away. He just kept his focus on the papers in front of him, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the surface. The room felt suffocating, and I couldn't understand why. It was as if every breath I took was too shallow, too heavy, too wrong.

"Here," he said suddenly, breaking the silence, his voice calm, controlled. He pushed a stack of papers across the table toward me. "This is for you."

I took a step forward, my fingers trembling as I reached for the papers. The moment my eyes skimmed the first line, my world stopped. My breath caught in my throat. Divorce papers. My vision blurred, the words on the page blending together. Divorce. It felt like a slap to my face.

Adrian's voice was distant, as if he was speaking from another place, another time. "You're finally free, Seraphina," he said coldly. "Now you can live a life free from my control. You always wanted this, right?"

His words sliced through me like a blade. I had always complained, always nagged about feeling trapped, about being suffocated by this marriage. But now, in this moment, those complaints felt hollow. I had never imagined that freedom would feel like this. This wasn't freedom. This was a prison of my own making. My heart sank into my stomach, and the weight of it pulled me down. My chest felt tight as though there was no air left to breathe.

He was offering me freedom, but it wasn't what I wanted anymore. Not like this. Not from him.

I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the chaos in my mind. I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't prepared for him to end everything between us so easily, so coldly. There had to be more to this. There had to be something—something I was missing. But as I looked at him, my mind couldn't find the answers.

The silence between us stretched on, and my own voice seemed to fail me. I swallowed hard, trying to push through the lump in my throat. I took a step closer to him, barely able to steady myself. "Adrian... don't you think," I began, my voice shaking, "that after everything we've been through... after all this time, we've... we've gotten used to each other? I mean... don't you feel that way too? Like, we've built something here?"

He didn't answer immediately. The only sound was the soft rustling of papers as he fiddled with the divorce papers again. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and distant, detached. "We can't be each other's habit, Seraphina. Bad habits are injurious to health." He looked up at me then, but there was no warmth in his gaze. "I'm not a good man for you. Live your life freely. Enjoy it without the restrictions I placed on you."

His words crushed me, each one more painful than the last. "I'm not a good man for you." I'm not a good man for you. I had heard those words from him before, but never like this. Never so final. Never so absolute.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him how much this hurt, how much I wanted to scream at him to stop—to take it back. I wanted to break down, to tell him how wrong this all felt, how empty this freedom was without him. But I couldn't. The tears were threatening to fall, but I didn't allow them to. I had spent so long building walls, convincing myself that I was strong enough to handle anything that came my way, but in this moment, I felt every ounce of that strength slipping away.

I didn't trust myself to speak, to say anything that might expose how deeply this was cutting me. So instead, I smiled. A sad, broken smile that I hoped he wouldn't see through. I had always been good at hiding what I felt, but today, even that seemed to fail me.

With trembling hands, I reached for the pen he had placed beside the papers. I took it, my fingers feeling numb as I signed my name. Each stroke on the paper felt like a death sentence, a finality I wasn't ready for. This wasn't just the end of a marriage. This was the end of everything I had known for so long.

"Just forget me, Seraphina," Adrian said, his voice hollow. "Just forget me like a bad memory. It will be better for you. We were never right for each other."

His words echoed in my mind, but they didn't make sense. I wanted to scream, to shout that he was wrong, that I had never wanted to forget him. But nothing came out. My throat was constricted, my chest so tight I could barely breathe.

I signed the papers, my hand trembling, and handed them back to him. The finality of it all hit me like a truck. My heart was shattered, my world slipping through my fingers, but I didn't have the strength to fight anymore.

Without another word, I turned and walked out of the office. My feet felt like they were dragging through wet cement. Each step took everything I had. The door clicked shut behind me, but it didn't bring any comfort.

I wanted to collapse, to let the world swallow me whole, but I didn't. I couldn't. Because now, it was over. And I was alone.

And in the quiet of the hallway, I finally allowed myself to cry.

I walked aimlessly through the streets, the cold biting at my skin, my mind numb, lost in a sea of thoughts I couldn't escape. The Christmas carols echoed softly from the speakers above, a cheerful "Joy to the World" filling the air. It was supposed to be a joyous time, a celebration of love and togetherness, but all I felt was emptiness. The world was wrapped in festive lights, but inside, I felt nothing but darkness. The lights of the city reflected off the soft blanket of snow that began to fall, but it only served to deepen the ache in my chest.

They say snow brings true love, that it's a sign of new beginnings, of hope.

But for me, all it brought was a painful reminder of what I had lost. I had lost the one person who meant everything to me. My heart felt heavy, weighed down by the realization that I had let him go, that I had failed to speak the truth when it mattered the most. I cried, the tears blurring my vision, my breath hitching with every sob. It felt like a release, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough.

A small child, no older than five, passed by with a balloon in his hand, his innocent face full of joy. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and full of warmth. Without saying a word, he offered me his balloon, his little hands wiping away the tears from my face as he smiled brightly. "Merry Christmas!" he exclaimed, his voice pure and untainted. For a brief moment, I felt a flicker of something—something close to hope, close to a fleeting sense of peace—but it disappeared as quickly as it came. The child's mother called him back, and he ran to her, looking back only once, still smiling.

I watched them, that mother and her child, my heart breaking with each step they took. They had each other. They had a love that was simple, beautiful, and pure. But what did I have? I had lost the one person who could have filled the emptiness inside me, and now I was alone, surrounded by families, by laughter, by joy. I felt like a ghost walking among the living, a shadow in a world that no longer felt like mine.

The city around me was alive, vibrant with the spirit of Christmas, but I couldn't feel it. As the night stretched on, the cold air and the falling snow made everything feel even more distant. I walked further into the night, each step echoing in the quiet streets. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was fading, that the world was moving on without me, and I was stuck in a past that was slipping away with every passing second.

I wanted to shout to the heavens, to scream Adrian's name, to tell him how much I loved him, how sorry I was for everything. But the words were trapped inside me, stuck in my throat, unable to break free. I had let so many opportunities slip through my fingers—times when I could have told him, when I could have confessed everything. But I never did. I was too afraid, too unsure of myself, too lost in my own doubts.

Now, it was too late. The silence between us was deafening, and I was left with nothing but regrets.

"Merry Christmas, Adrian," I whispered through the tears, my voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. "I wish I could have told you sooner... that I loved you. I always have."

But I didn't, and now it was too late. I missed my chance. I had everything—wealth, luxury, a life that many would envy—but I felt like the poorest person in the world. Because the one thing that truly mattered, the one thing I wanted more than anything, was gone. I had lost him, and there was nothing left for me. No amount of money, no material possession could fill the hole in my heart.

I had let love slip through my fingers, and now, all I had left was the cold emptiness of a life without him. It was my fault. I had been too late, too afraid to say the words when they could have mattered. And now, I was left to walk through this world, haunted by the ghost of a love I had lost forever.

I reached the end of the block and paused, looking up at the star-filled sky, the cold air biting my cheeks as I took in a shaky breath. I wished so badly that I could go back, that I could rewrite everything. That I could stop the moments where I hesitated, where I doubted myself, where I let my insecurities control me. I would give anything to go back to the time when I still had a chance to fix things, when Adrian was still mine, before everything turned into this tangled mess of mistakes and missed opportunities.

But wishing didn't change anything. The past was gone.

"Merry Christmas, Adrian," I whispered again, my voice trembling in the wind. The words felt like a prayer, a fragile offering to the universe, hoping that somehow, some way, Adrian would hear them. But I knew it was pointless. He had made his decision. He had given me the freedom I thought I wanted, but now, in this moment, I realized that the freedom was a lie. It wasn't freedom that I wanted—it was him. It was the love we had shared, the bond that connected us even in the darkest of times. And now it was gone, slipping through my fingers like sand.

The thought of him hurt so much that it felt like a physical ache, deep in my chest. I could still remember his eyes, the warmth in his touch, the way he held me in his arms like I was the only person in the world. How could I have let that go? How could I have let him go?

I stopped walking, standing at the corner of the street, my heart heavy in my chest. My breath came in short, sharp gasps, the tears threatening to fall again. I couldn't seem to control them anymore. I wanted to scream, to cry out to him, to beg him to take it all back. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't ready to let him go. That I loved him, I had always loved him, even when I didn't know how to show it. But what good would it do? He had already made up his mind. The distance between us felt insurmountable now, as though the space that separated us was no longer just physical, but emotional, a chasm so deep that I couldn't see the bottom.

I sank down on the edge of a nearby bench, my hands buried in my coat pockets, trying to hide the trembling of my fingers. The tears fell freely now, the snowflakes melting on my cheeks as I cried into the night. I was so tired. Tired of pretending that everything was fine, tired of running from my feelings. But most of all, I was tired of being without him.

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like if I had been braver, if I had taken that leap, told him how I felt when it mattered. Maybe he would have stayed. Maybe we could have worked through everything together. But now, all I had left was the haunting image of his face when he signed those papers, when he told me to forget him. The finality of it. The crushing weight of it.

The world seemed to blur around me. The snow, the lights, the carolers singing in the distance—they were all a blur, a background to the unbearable pain in my heart. I was alone, completely and utterly alone, and I had no one to blame but myself.

I should have fought for him. I should have told him that I needed him, that I loved him, that I couldn't bear to lose him. But I didn't. And now, in the cold, unforgiving night, I was paying the price. The one person I had always needed, the one person who had made my life feel whole, was gone.

And all I had left were the memories, the regrets, and the crushing silence of a life without Adrian.

The snow continued to fall, covering everything in its soft white blanket, but nothing could cover the emptiness inside me. I was drowning in it, and I didn't know how to swim back to the surface.