Her Final "Okay" Chapter 2

Christine emerged from the bedroom holding a file.

I watched her, studying her expression. Her eyes were placid pools, her face a calm mask. None of the tearful breakdowns or hysterical rage I'd grown used to.

"I've already signed it," she said, holding the papers out to me. "Just let me know when you've scheduled the appointment at the courthouse."

She handed me the document and turned to make tea. The kettle began its low, gurgling song, and soon the rich, earthy scent of dark tea filled the room. When she poured, I instinctively reached out to take the cup from her.

But she brought it to her own lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip, her expression one of pure, relaxed contentment.

Seeing my outstretched hand, she looked at me, a flicker of genuine confusion in her eyes. "The divorce papers are in your hand, aren't they?"

My brow furrowed. I pulled my hand back and looked down at the agreement. Ten minutes later, I looked up, bewildered.

"This is the same one I gave you last time. You haven't changed a single word?"

Christine was curled up on the sofa, sipping her tea and returning to her book. She glanced up, a momentary blankness in her eyes before she registered my question. "Oh. No, I didn't. It seemed fine to me."

I stared at her for a long moment, then decided to press on. "Christine, if this is still too hard for you, I can increase the settlement amount."

She tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Increase it? Has Isabella approved that?"

A familiar wave of irritation washed over me. For the past two years, every conversation about the divorce inevitably circled back to Isabella. In Christine's eyes, I was the weak-willed cheater and Isabella was the shameless homewrecker.

She had no idea what we'd been through—the guilt, the agonizing struggle, the painful journey that had led us to this point.