Though Zaldy and I technically had separate quarters in the manor, we shared a dressing wing—a space I had once meticulously maintained, folding his suits, polishing his shoes, arranging his belts, and ensuring everything he owned was in perfect order. It had been my daily ritual, a small attempt to keep peace in a marriage that had always been more obligation than love. But now, it was time to let it all go.
As I folded my own clothes, my gaze landed on the gifts I had given him over the years: luxury watches, tailored jackets, trinkets from foreign cities, and carefully chosen items for birthdays, anniversaries, and every other occasion the family recognized. Each lay untouched, still wrapped or set aside as if my effort had never mattered.
My chest tightened. I had poured care, thought, and hope into every single one, hoping they might remind him that I had once tried to be more than a name in the ledger. But they were never for me to keep. I bundled them for donation, a quiet act of reclaiming control over my life.
Next, I packed every token he had ever given me—gold chains, rings, garments meant to remind me of my “place,” symbols of ownership rather than affection. I left behind only what I had earned with my own labor: the steady income from selling my paintings, modest yet entirely my own.
When the donation boxes were loaded into the car, I set off for the orphanage where I had grown up. On the way, I stopped at a small market and bought treats for the children there—no matter how far I traveled, they would always be a piece of my heart.
Upon arrival, the woman who had raised me, my mother in all but blood, greeted me warmly. We settled into a quiet corner, speaking in the familiar rhythm of mother and daughter.
After a pause, I exhaled and shared my plans.
“I’m leaving for Italy to continue my studies,” I said, a small, resolute smile brushing my lips. Her eyes lit up, and she clasped my hands tightly.
“Oh, Sami! I knew you were meant for great things,” she said, voice trembling with pride. “You deserve every bit of happiness coming your way.”
Her words soothed the knot in my chest, giving me courage. “I’m also… divorcing Zaldy.”
Her expression faltered, concern shading her features. She had known me long enough to recognize the kindness in my heart, and perhaps she had hoped my marriage might provide a family I had never truly had.