But that’s when Zoe stepped forward.

She walked to Jackson’s side and gently took his hand.

She said softly, “Jackson, don’t be upset. Clara’s just not thinking clearly right now. She’ll cool down.”

As she spoke, she looked at me, and her eyes were filled with pity… and triumph.

“Clara, I know you’re hurting, but you have to try and understand Jackson. He just has a good heart. He can’t stand to see anyone suffer.”

“After all the years you two have been together, are you really worried that you can’t compete with the little bit of history we had?”

“Shut up!” I roared, finally snapping.

I lunged forward, grabbed the front of her dress, and slapped her across the face.

The sharp crack echoed in the room.

Zoe stumbled back a few steps, unsteady on her feet, letting out a pained grunt.

That slap was pure, unadulterated rage.

I held nothing back.

A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth.

“Clara!” Jackson screamed.

He charged at me, shoved me aside, and shielded Zoe with his own body.

“Don’t you touch her!”

He glared down at me, his eyes and tone making me feel like I was the villain, the one who had committed an unforgivable crime.

The force of his push sent me staggering backward until I hit the edge of the coffee table.

“Jackson, you…”

I pointed at him, my body trembling with fury, unable to speak.

Jackson ignored me completely.

He helped Zoe up, gently dabbing the blood from her lip, his eyes full of concern and adoration.

“Zoe, are you okay? Does it hurt?”

Zoe shook her head, looking at him with tender eyes.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Then, she lifted her head and looked at me.

Her eyes were gleaming with provocation and victory.

I watched the scene unfold, feeling like the punchline to a long, cruel joke.

It was all so meaningless.

This marriage was long past its expiration date.

Fighting back the rage and the pain, I said coldly, “Jackson, sign the papers. I’ll set you both free.”

Jackson snatched a pen and furiously signed his name.

The tip of the pen dug into the paper, as if he wanted to tear it to shreds.

I took the document back without a flicker of emotion and turned to leave.

“Clara, you are going to regret this!”

Jackson’s sharp voice followed me out the door, sounding like a curse, or maybe, a plea.

I walked down the stairs without looking back.

My stomach churned, and the pain from my incision intensified, like a knife twisting inside me.

I leaned against the wall, my vision tunneling.

Regret?

What did I have to regret?

I had given everything to this marriage, only to end up a fool.

I stumbled out of the building and hailed a cab, giving the address of the lawyer’s office.

There, I forced my body to hold itself together long enough to finalize the divorce.

As of today, Jackson and I were officially over.

When I walked out of the law office, dusk had fallen.

The streetlights cast a sickly yellow glow, stretching my shadow long and thin behind me.

My phone rang.

A number I didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Is this Ms. Clara Reed? I’m a nurse at Mercy General Hospital. Your husband is here, he…”

The nurse’s voice was rushed, and my heart dropped.

“My ex-husband? What happened to him?!”

“Your ex-husband, he was in a car accident. He's not in good shape. You need to come to the hospital.”

For a second, the world stopped.

It felt like I’d been struck by lightning.

My mind was a complete blank.

A car accident? Jackson was in a car accident?

Without thinking, my old instincts kicked in, and I rushed to the hospital.

In the hallway, I saw Zoe.

She was sitting on a bench, her clothes disheveled, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

I marched over to her and grabbed a handful of her hair.

“What happened? How did he crash the car?!”

Zoe looked up, her face a mess of tears and confusion.

She looked at me, her expression a mix of emotions, her lips moving but no words coming out.

Just then, the doors to the operating room swung open.

A doctor walked out, pulling off his surgical mask, looking exhausted.

“Who is the patient’s family?”

I rushed forward, grabbing the doctor’s arm.

“I am. How is he?”

The doctor sighed.

“We saved his life, for now. But… his condition is very serious.”

His tone shifted, becoming laced with judgment.

“Young people need to pay attention when they drive. You can’t be doing that kind of thing behind the wheel.”

My brain exploded.

The doctor’s words echoed in my head.

You can’t be doing that kind of thing behind the wheel.

What “kind of thing” it was, I didn’t have to guess.

I knew.

And in that moment, whatever was left of my heart for him turned to dust.

I walked like a robot out of the hospital's automatic doors.