Jaylan released my hand, slowly standing up with a look on his face that was hard to read. A moment later, he snorted a laugh—a helpless yet mischievous sound—and finally fixed his gaze on me. “Aaliyah, I’ll sign it! From now on, we're done!”
“That’s exactly what I want.” I shot back with a sharp edge to my voice.
He glanced at me and smirked, a devil-may-care expression playing on his lips.
Hannah stepped in just in time, sliding the divorce papers across the table to him with a pen tucked neatly alongside.
He looked at me, took the pen, and without even glancing at the document, he scrawled his signature across the bottom.
I let out a silent sigh of relief. A decade of mistakes was finally reaching its conclusion.
Still caught in my reverie, I heard Jaylan’s sardonic voice cut through, “Aaliyah, don't get ahead of yourself. You know, you’d make the perfect housewife, staying at home, taking care of the kids.”
His words hung heavy in the air, his smirk turning into a sneer that seemed to carry with it a chilling mix of malice and menace.
“Hannah, get Mr. Dawson's stuff out of here, would you? I don’t want him having any reason to come back,” I called out firmly. I wanted a clean break, no lingering connections.
Jaylan’s face turned to stone at my words. “Aaliyah, this is still my home...”
“The moment you signed these papers, this is no longer your home,” I said, holding up the document. “Because I can’t bear the sight of you one minute longer!”
With that, I turned on my heel, clutching the signed divorce papers, and made my way upstairs without a backward glance.
“You’re cold-hearted!” he growled behind me, his voice laced with anger and disbelief.
Hannah and Larkin maneuvered three oversized suitcases down to the front door, placing them right next to his car, their message clear, [Take care, and don’t bother coming back!]
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