He stood up calmly, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a thick stack of papers. A pen clipped neatly on top. He held them out to me.
“We need to settle this,” he said. “Sign these.”
I stared at the papers, my hands trembling. “What is this?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Divorce papers. Everything’s already arranged. Assets, custody schedules, legal terms. I just need your signature so we can move forward.”
Divorce—what?
I looked at his face. There was nothing there. No regret. No apology. Not even discomfort.
“After everything,” I whispered, “this is all you have to say to me?”
He sighed, clearly annoyed. “Miya, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. This is the cleanest solution for everyone. Especially Nana.”
My heart sank.
I stared at the divorce papers in Gusion’s hand, my whole body shaking like I might fall apart any second.
“Sign it,” he said again, calm and flat, like the years we spent together were just some expired contract. Like I had already been written off.
I took the papers from him. My hands were trembling so hard the pages rattled. Then I tore them in half. Once. Twice. Over and over, until they were nothing but scraps falling to the floor.
For a second, his eyes darkened. Then he smiled. Slow. Controlled.
He reached into his wallet, pulled out a black ATM card, and flicked it onto the coffee table.
“There’s a million dollars on that,” he said casually. “Consider it your settlement. You’ll be fine.”
Settlement.
The word burned. Like I was some long-term employee being laid off. Like my love, my body, my years meant nothing more than a payout.
Before I even realized it, I slapped him. Hard.
The sound echoed through the room. My hand stung, but my chest hurt worse.
Gusion barely reacted. He turned his head slowly, touched his cheek, and looked at me with mild curiosity.
“Do you feel better now?” he chuckled.
I grabbed the card and broke it and threw it back at him. “Keep it! I don’t want your money. I want my life back.”
He gave a small, cruel smile. “That life is over, Miya. You should start accepting reality.”
Then he leaned closer, his voice low and sharp. “Nana already sees Hanabi as her mom now. Children adapt fast.”
My blood went cold.
The kitchen door opened.
Hanabi stepped out, holding Nana’s hand. They were smiling. Both of them. Like this was normal. Like this was home.