Fourth Wedding Anniversary

"I want a divorce, Declan."

The words hung heavily in the chilling morning air. Today was their fourth wedding anniversary. Serena Vance gripped her phone, her knuckles turning white. Her voice was cold and steady, completely devoid of the warmth that had defined their eight-year relationship.

On the other end of the line, Declan Mercer let out a harsh, frustrated breath. "You want a divorce just because I was with Lyla on our anniversary? Serena, don't you forget we've been in love for eight years? Are you seriously doing this right now?"

His tone was laced with utter confusion, as if she were a child throwing a baseless tantrum over a minor inconvenience.

Serena nodded, staring blankly at the empty bedroom wall, even though he couldn't see her. The exhaustion settled deep in her bones. "There is more to it, Declan. But yes, this is the last straw."

She ended the call without waiting for his reply, letting the deafening silence of the master bedroom replace his voice. It was a stark contrast to the romantic fantasy she had desperately tried to build just hours ago.

The memory of the previous night played out in her mind like a cruel joke. She had spent the entire afternoon preparing. It was a tradition they had never broken in four years of marriage. They never missed celebrating their special day. She had specifically asked the housekeeper to prepare a special feast. Downstairs in the dining room, a lavish meal now sat cold and untouched on the long mahogany table. Crystal wine glasses caught the dim evening light, stationed next to a vase of fresh, blood-red roses she had arranged herself. She had placed a carefully chosen anniversary gift box on his velvet placemat.

Upstairs, Serena had meticulously prepared herself. She stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the delicate straps of the new black lace lingerie she had bought specifically for this milestone. The dark silk felt cool against her skin. She felt excited, her heart fluttering with the desperate hope of an unforgettable night. She had wanted to bridge the growing distance between them.

But as she reached back, about to take it off for him, Declan's phone rang loudly on the nightstand. The illusion shattered before it even began.

Serena froze. In the quiet room, she clearly heard a woman's sobbing, frantic voice leaking through the receiver.

Declan's demeanor shifted instantly. He froze in his tracks, the romantic atmosphere instantly evaporating from his eyes. Without saying a single word to her, he climbed out of bed, turned his back on her, and headed straight for the bathroom.

Serena lay on the edge of the mattress. Her cheeks burned with humiliation and a rising sense of dread as she listened to the sound of running water from the bathroom sink.

When Declan finally came out, she pulled the bedsheet over her chest, trying to cover the black lace. He was already fully dressed, his sharp features clouded with worry.

"Can't you stay?" she whispered, the vulnerability raw in her throat. "Do you have to go right now?"

Declan grabbed his keys from the dresser. "Leo has a fever. I need to go check on him. I'll be right back."

"Declan, it's our anniversary," she pleaded quietly.

"He's a sick kid, Serena. I'll be back," he said, turning on his heel. With that, he walked out. The heavy thud of the front door echoing through the quiet house was his only goodbye.

Serena sat up in bed as shadows stretched across the walls. She waited through the midnight hour, listening to the house grow dead and silent. She waited the entire night, but he never came home.

She sat there until dawn. The first grey light of morning began to creep through the bedroom blinds when her phone finally lit up on the mattress beside her.

Serena jolted. Her stiff muscles ached as she reached for the screen, a small part of her still hoping for an apology from him. Instead, it was a message from her sister-in-law, Lyla Vance.

It was a photo.

Serena stared at the bright screen, her chest tightening. The image showed Declan sitting on the edge of a stark white hospital bed. He was holding Lyla's three-year-old son, Leo Mercer, in his arms. Declan's eyes—usually so guarded and stoic—were incredibly soft and full of care, looking down at the sick boy as if he were the boy's own father.

Beneath the photo was another text from Lyla.

[Rena, you'd better go to bed. Declan's truly worried about Leo. Maybe it's because he even flew overseas to be with me when I gave birth. He cares for Leo like he's his own son. He won't be coming home tonight.]

Serena read the glowing message again and again, stunned, unable to believe what she was seeing.

*He was with Lyla when she gave birth?*

Her mind raced backwards in time. Three years ago, after Nolan, Declan's elder brother and Lyla's husband, passed away suddenly, Lyla said she needed a change of scenery to cope with the grief. She went abroad. Not long afterward, she found out she was pregnant and stayed overseas for her entire pregnancy.

It suddenly dawned on Serena that during the exact month Lyla was due to give birth, Declan had been away on endless, back-to-back business trips. He had claimed they were crucial corporate meetings.

*He flew all that way to be with her when she delivered?* Serena wondered, her heart sinking like a stone.

Tears blurred her vision and fell heavily onto the glass screen. She closed her eyes tightly, her heart shattering into jagged pieces. All this time, she had believed his excuses.

*He's been taking care of Lyla and her son since way back then,* she thought, an agonizing ache spreading through her ribs.

No wonder every time Lyla called, Declan dropped everything and rushed to her side, no matter how late it was.

His excuse to Serena never changed. "Leo is Nolan's only child. Now that Nolan's gone, it's my duty as Leo's uncle to look after him. You understand, don't you, Serena?"

Serena kept telling herself that Declan was only doing this for Nolan's blood. She had forced herself to swallow the neglect and accept it for years.

But today, staring at the screen in the pale morning light, she could no longer force herself to accept it.

*Is he really doing this for Leo or for Lyla?* Serena wondered, the agonizing sense of betrayal crushing the last bit of air from her lungs.

The sheer manipulation in Lyla's message wasn't just a taunt; it was a victory lap.

Serena wiped her wet cheeks. Her deep sorrow hardened into a cold, devastating resolve. She pushed herself off the bed, walked over to the desk, opened the bottom drawer, and took out the divorce papers.

She gripped the documents tightly in her hand. Right before walking out of the bedroom, she glanced at their wedding photo on the wall. Her smile back then had been full of genuine joy.

Four years together as lovers, four as husband and wife. And now, everything was crumbling into divorce.