Chapter 5

Abigail's POV

I woke early, my first instinct was to reach for my phone. My heart raced as I scanned the notifications, desperately hoping to see any response from Nicholas about the divorce agreement.

Nothing. No calls, no texts, no emails.

Had he even seen the agreement? Or had he seen it and simply didn't care enough to respond? This uncertainty felt like an invisible hand squeezing my heart.

After staring at the ceiling for twenty minutes, I finally gathered the courage to call him. The phone rang for a long time before going to voicemail. I didn't leave a message.

What could I say? Have you received the divorce agreement I left for you? Are you planning to sign it, or will you ignore me as usual?

That familiar emptiness and coldness spread through my chest again, deeper than ever before. Even as I'd decided to leave, Nicholas remained indifferent to me.

My phone suddenly vibrated with a message from Isabella. My heart tightened when I saw the preview—a screenshot of Nicholas and Olivia at the airport, followed by a string of angry emojis.

"Those fucking bastards!" she wrote. "I just saw this on social media. That asshole parading around with his mistress while you're at home. He's absolutely blind to throw you away for that manipulative bitch!"

Several more messages followed:

"I swear karma will get them both!" "Are you okay, honey? Should I come over?" "I have your favorite Scotch whisky here, and an urge to burn his designer suits."

Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile. Isabella's loyalty and passion wrapped around me like a warm blanket. At least I wasn't completely alone.

"No need for arson," I replied. "I left the divorce papers on his desk last night."

Seconds later, the phone rang. Before I could even say "hello," Isabella's voice exploded through the speaker.

"He's divorcing you? For her? That absolute piece of garbage! I'm going to destroy him in the media. I know every mainstream outlet in this city—"

"Bella, don't." I interrupted her. "It wasn't his idea. I prepared the divorce agreement."

The other end went silent for a few seconds.

"What? Why would you...? Are you doing this because of her? If you're giving up without a fight—"

"I'm not giving up," I said softly. "I'm making a choice for myself."

I took a deep breath and told her everything—Nicholas's indifference, his monthly "obligations," and my diagnosis. With each sentence, the burden in my heart lightened a little.

"Oh my God, Abby." Her voice was full of shock and concern. "Your heart... Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have gone to the hospital with you."

"I needed to process it myself first," I admitted. "But I've figured it out now. Nicholas never loved me, our marriage was a transaction from the beginning. I don't want to waste what time I have left in a loveless relationship."

"Whatever you need, I'm right beside you," Isabella's voice cracked slightly. "You know that, right? I'll support every decision you make."

"Thank you," I said softly, truly touched. "I just want to do something meaningful now, to live for myself."

"That's exactly how you should think!" Her tone regained its usual vitality. "You're brilliant, Abby, always have been. You should be using your talent to create, not being someone's secret wife."

She paused for a moment, then continued: "Come work with us at Seraphic Scents. We really need someone with your professional abilities, and the timing is perfect. The company is growing faster than we anticipated."

Hearing this suggestion, my heart involuntarily tightened. The thought of returning to the perfume industry both excited and unnerved me. I had once been passionate about molecular chemistry and fragrance construction, spending countless nights in the lab with Matthew, developing new formulas and discussing theories.

Matthew. My former senior and friend. His disappointment and anger when I decided to give up my studies to marry Nicholas still haunted me. He said I was wasting my talent, and as it turned out, he wasn't wrong.

"I don't know, Bella..." I hesitated. "Matthew probably doesn't want me back. After all, I left so abruptly."

"Matthew isn't as petty as you think," Isabella insisted. "He cares about you because he values your potential. He still mentions your research sometimes. That formula you created in your final year? He says no one can replicate the molecular stability you achieved then."

"'Eternal Tears,'" I whispered.

"Yes, that one! Listen, he might be a bit awkward at first, but he'll accept it. I'll talk to him. You're the person he considers most capable, Abby. If he doesn't welcome you, that would be his loss."

I fell silent, memories washing over me like a tide. The excitement of discovery, the satisfaction of solving complex molecular problems, the pride of creating unique fragrances... These feelings I had suppressed for three years, all to become a quiet, undemanding wife.

"I've spent too long being what others wanted me to be," I finally spoke. "First my father, pushing me into this marriage for his benefit. Then trying to be what Nicholas needed, even though he didn't care."

"What about yourself, Abby? What do you want?"

The question hung simply yet heavily in the air. In this moment of uncertain health and ending marriage, what did I truly desire?

"I want to create again," I finally admitted. "I want to experience that spark when a formula perfectly blends. I want to use my mind to do something meaningful."

"Then do it!" Isabella encouraged. "Don't let fear stop you. Even if Matthew is cold to you at first, face it bravely. You're stronger than you imagine."

During our conversation, something seemed to quietly change within me. A calm determination took root in my heart. I had lived too long for others' expectations. Perhaps it was time to reclaim the dreams I had set aside. Even if Matthew was still angry, even if my health condition was uncertain, I could still choose how to spend my remaining time.

"Alright," I took a deep breath. "I'll do it. When can I start?"