I asked Virginia for a divorce while she was on her phone, soothing her heartbroken first love. She didn’t even look up from her screen. "Hell must have frozen over. You’re asking for a divorce?" In our five years of marriage, Virginia was always the one to throw the word "divorce" around whenever we fought. And every single time, she would wait for me to bend, to apologize, to coax her back. "What’s your reason?" she asked. I pointed at her phone, where the screen was overflowing with comforting messages to Jordan. "Is that not reason enough?" Virginia frowned. "He’s going through a hard time. What’s wrong with me comforting a friend?" She let out a cold laugh. "If you don't even have this basic level of trust, then fine. Let's end it." I slid the signed divorce agreement across the desk. "Fine. Sign it." Virginia froze for a second, then carelessly scribbled her name at the bottom. "Have fun with your little tantrum." She didn't think I was serious. She truly believed I would never leave. But this time, I meant it. I was done chasing her. 1 The study was silent except for the dry scratch of her pen. When she finished, Virginia pushed the agreement back to me, her eyes already drifting away. "It’s signed. Take it." Her tone was light and dismissive, like a boss handing an idle chore to an intern. The moment I picked up the paper, Jordan’s FaceTime call came through. Virginia answered immediately. "Virginia, thank you so much for talking to me..." Jordan’s voice crackled through the speaker, thick with tears. "I don't know what I would’ve done without you." My hands tightened on the document. Virginia’s voice softened into that warm, indulgent tone she reserved only for him. "Oh, stop it. It’s just a breakup. You don't need to cry like this. When you broke up with me back then, you didn't seem nearly this devastated." "That's not true... I was miserable. I just didn't let you see it," Jordan whined, his voice dripping with practiced vulnerability. I looked down, burying the familiar ache deep inside. Whenever Jordan hurt, Virginia was there to soothe him. When he got sick, she would drive through the night just to bring him soup. For his birthdays, she spent months hunting down the perfect gifts. Every minor tremor in Jordan’s life was an earthquake to Virginia. And to me? She left nothing but the threat of divorce. A dull, heavy bitterness settled in my chest. "I’ll pack my things and move out tomorrow," I said quietly. Virginia looked up, her brow furrowing with that familiar, sharp annoyance. "You're taking it this far? Fine. Do whatever you want." "Is Drew there?" Jordan asked over the phone. Virginia turned her attention back to the screen, a dry laugh escaping her lips. "Yeah. He's throwing a fit. We just signed the divorce papers." Jordan let out a soft, performative gasp. "Oh... it's not because of me, is it?" His voice pitched higher, directed at me. "Drew, seriously, Virginia and I are just friends. She was just keeping me company. Please don't take it the wrong way." I almost wanted to laugh. He called this blatant disregard for boundaries "just keeping a friend company." "What does he have to do with this?" Virginia snapped, her irritation turning back to me. "His own mind is just dirty. We grew up together. What's the big deal?" Yes. To Virginia, Jordan wasn't just her first love; he was her childhood sweetheart. After his parents passed away, her family took him in. In her heart, Jordan would always occupy the throne. Even though they had broken up years ago, her devotion to him had never wavered. If anything, it had grown. He was always first, and I, her husband, was a distant second. They were never "just friends." "It doesn't matter anymore," I said, my voice dead calm. "I won't be in your way." "Drew, that's enough," she sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know exactly what Jordan means to me." "I do," I said. "I finally do." Before she could reply, Jordan's voice pulled her back to the screen. I picked up the divorce papers and walked out of the study. Through the heavy wood, I heard Jordan's muffled voice. "Virginia, maybe you should go check on him?" "Don't worry about it," she replied, her voice dismissive. "There's no point." A bitter smile touched my lips. She was right. There was no point. In this marriage, I had always been the one to bend, to apologize, to bridge the distance. I used to think she just didn't know how to apologize, that she was just too proud. But the truth was simpler: she just believed I would never actually leave. I looked down at the signed papers, my fingers clutching the edges. It wasn't that she didn't know how to comfort someone. She just didn't want to comfort me. 2 Back in our bedroom, I began to pack. I pulled my passport, birth certificate, and important documents from the safe, laying them out on the bed. Tucked at the bottom of the drawer were our two marriage certificates. I took mine. I'd need it soon. I didn't hear Virginia walk in. She leaned against the doorframe, watching me fold my shirts, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Where do you think you're going?" She had always treated my words like background noise. I was used to it. "I'm moving out," I said. She let out a sharp, mocking breath. "Oh, drop the act, Drew. You've made your point." "You'll pack your bags, go stay at a hotel for a night, and then drag them right back here. Aren't you tired of the drama?" She didn't believe me. She thought this was a performance to get her attention. And why wouldn't she? Everyone knew I loved her to the point of self-destruction. One second she would threaten to leave, and the next I would be apologizing, swallowing my pride just to keep her. At social gatherings, her friends would laugh and say: "Virginia, you've got him wrapped around your little finger. He's totally obsessed. Not like Jordan—whenever Jordan got mad, you had to be the one to chase him. Drew is so much easier." And Virginia would just shrug, her eyes cold. "Yeah, well. I'm used to it." I folded another sweater, keeping my eyes on the fabric, ignoring her. When I didn't fire back, her tone shifted, becoming quiet but laced with a threat. "Drew. Don't push this too far." My hands paused. I looked up at her. "You think I'm just throwing a tantrum?" "Aren't you?" she retorted. "We had a conversation. That's it. And now you're demanding a divorce? When did you become so incredibly petty?" I actually laughed. To her, a lifetime of being sidelined was just "a conversation." My breaking point was just "pettiness." A profound, bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. All the arguments, the defenses, the explanations I had prepared over the years evaporated. "Fine," I said softly. "Then I'm petty." I didn't have any words left. Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at it, silent for a moment, before looking back up. "I'll sleep in the guest room tonight. Since you're so set on this little exit, pack light. It'll save you the hassle of unpacking when you come back." I didn't answer. I just kept folding. "You know what Jordan and I are," she added, her voice dropping, though it sent a chill straight to my chest. "Jealousy is a bad look on you, Drew." She turned and walked away. The next morning, I carried my suitcase downstairs. Virginia was in the kitchen, sipping coffee as if it were any other Tuesday. "Jordan's birthday is in a couple of days," she said, her tone conversational, almost pleasant. "He wants to spend it here in Chicago. I told him he could stay in our guest room for a bit." It wasn't a question. It was an announcement. I gripped the handle of my suitcase so hard my knuckles turned white. The sheer absurdity of it made me want to laugh. "Do whatever you want," I said. She looked at me, taking a sip. "You should come to the dinner. Otherwise, Jordan's going to think you're holding a grudge." She didn't care about my feelings. She never had. It was just another box for her to check. She checked her watch and stood up. "He's landing soon. I'm going to go pick him up." As she reached the front door, I called out. "Virginia." 3 She turned, her eyebrow slightly raised. There was no surprise on her face, only that familiar, smug indifference. She thought I was finally breaking. She thought I was going to apologize. "Are you free tomorrow?" I asked. "If you are, we need to go to the courthouse to file the petition." The smugness vanished, replaced by a dark, simmering anger. She let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Are you serious, Drew?" "I let you play your little signing game, and I let you pack. But this is getting ridiculous." I looked at her. "I am serious. Let's go tomorrow. It takes thirty days for the court to finalize it anyway, so the sooner we file, the better." She cut me off, her voice sharp with impatience. "Drew, drop it. We both know you can't survive without me. You're throwing a fit over Jordan because you have nothing better to do. It’s pathetic." She checked her watch again. "I have to get Jordan. If I'm late, he'll be upset. We'll talk about this when you've calmed down." She slammed the door, leaving me in the quiet foyer. I stood there for a long moment, then pulled my suitcase out into the cold morning air. That night, I sent her a text. "Nine o'clock tomorrow at the county courthouse. Don't be late." It took hours for a response. When my phone finally buzzed, it was an audio message. But it wasn't Virginia’s voice. It was Jordan’s. "Hey Drew, what's this about nine o'clock?" Jordan's voice was bright, backed by the loud thrum of music and laughter. "Virginia is throwing me a welcome-home party. You should come!" In the background, I heard someone yell, "Whoa, Jordan, you're just answering Virginia's texts now? Aren't you worried she'll get mad?" Another voice chimed in, laughing. "Are you kidding? Drew touched her phone once last year and she practically bit his head off." "Exactly! You can't compare Drew to Jordan. Jordan's special." The message went on, filled with drunken laughter. I knew Jordan had sent it on purpose. But they weren't wrong. At a dinner party months ago, my phone had died, and I’d reached for Virginia’s to check the time. She had snatched it out of my hand instantly. "Drew, do you have absolutely no concept of privacy?" she’d snapped in front of everyone. I had sat there, burning with embarrassment, while someone else quickly changed the subject. A second audio message from Jordan came through. "Sorry about that, Drew! The guys are just joking around. Don't take them seriously." I didn't reply. Ten minutes later, Virginia called. "Jordan said you texted?" She sounded amused, as if she were waiting for my inevitable surrender. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock at the family court. I'm calling to make sure you don't forget." "Drew, are you seriously doing this?" Her voice flared with sudden, sharp anger. "Don't you think you've humiliated us enough? Do you want everyone laughing at us? Take a few days to cool off. This constant jealousy is exhausting. You're acting like a child." I let out a soft laugh. "I'm not jealous, Virginia. I'm done. I want a divorce." But before I could finish, the line went dead. Jordan must have called her back to the party. A minute later, my screen lit up with a video from Jordan. "Hey Drew, we're playing a game. You don't mind, right?" 4 I hesitated, then tapped play. It was the card-passing game. Virginia and Jordan were face-to-face, holding a thin playing card between their lips. The crowd around them was cheering wildly. "Oh my god, Virginia's going to be sleeping on the couch tonight!" someone yelled. "Childhood sweethearts, first loves... come on, just kiss already!" "Thank god Drew isn't here, or we'd never hear the end of it." As they leaned in, someone blew on the card. It fluttered to the floor. Their lips met. The video cut off to a chorus of wild screams. I felt... nothing. Just a vast, hollow emptiness. Another text from Jordan popped up: "Drew, you're not mad, are you? It was just a party game. Don't take it seriously." I locked my phone and went to sleep. The next morning, I went back to the house to grab the rest of my things. When I tried the keyless lock, the code didn't work. I tried it three times before the door finally clicked open from the inside. Jordan stood there, wearing a silk pajama set. "Drew?" He smiled warmly. "Oh, sorry about the lock. Virginia had a few too many drinks last night and ended up changing the code to my birthday. I guess she forgot to tell you." I didn't say a word. My gaze traveled down to the pajamas he was wearing. They were mine. A set Virginia had bought me for our anniversary that I’d never even worn. Jordan noticed my gaze and offered a sheepish, apologetic smile. "I packed in such a rush, I forgot to bring pajamas. You don't mind, do you?" I pushed past him. Virginia was coming down the stairs, tying her robe. She stopped when she saw me. "What are you doing here?" I ignored her and went straight up to our bedroom. When I opened the door, I froze. My suitcase had been dragged out of the closet and left open on the floor. The clothes I had neatly packed were rummaged through, scattered everywhere. Virginia walked in behind me. She looked at the mess, then cleared her throat, a rare flash of self-consciousness crossing her face. "Jordan forgot his clothes. I was looking for something he could wear. I didn't mean to make a mess. I'll clean it up later." She dismissed it as if it were nothing. I didn't say a word. I knelt down, picked up my clothes, and stuffed them back into the bag, zipping it shut. Virginia frowned. "It's just a shirt, Drew. I'll buy you a new one. Stop acting like this." "No need," I said, pulling the suitcase upright. "Keep it. Let Jordan have it." I looked her in the eyes. "Find some time today. Let's go file the papers." Jordan hurried into the room, his eyes red and pooling with tears. "I'm so sorry, Drew. This is my fault. I shouldn't have borrowed your things. I'll buy you a new set... please, don't divorce Virginia because of me." Virginia’s expression softened immediately. She put a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Jordan. Don't apologize." Then she turned to me, her voice cold. "That's enough, Drew. You're making a scene over a t-shirt. Is this really who you want to be?" To Virginia, everything was a minor issue when it came to Jordan. I was always the unreasonable one, the villain in their beautiful, tragic story. "Yes," I said, looking at her one last time. "I'm making a scene. And I'm leaving." I wheeled my suitcase out. As I walked down the hall, I heard Jordan’s quiet, worried voice behind me. "Virginia, he seems really mad this time. What if he actually leaves?" And then, Virginia’s confident reply: "He won't. I know him. He can't live without me." I kept walking. That afternoon, we met at the courthouse. We filed the petition, and the clerk informed us of the mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Virginia let out a small, knowing smirk as we walked down the steps. "Nice show. You knew about the waiting period, didn't you? Is that why you insisted on coming today? Just to keep up the act?" I didn't answer. I hailed a cab and got in. A text from her arrived ten minutes later. "Jordan's birthday dinner is tomorrow night. Make sure you're there. And don't forget to buy him a gift." I didn't reply. I blocked her number, opened my airline app, and booked a one-way ticket to Denver.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "533870", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel