Jarrow City Registrar’s Office.
The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant and a faint, awkward tension.
Grace sat in a chair, clutching a black pen.
Across from her sat Ethan, dressed in a sharp suit, his expression cold and severe.
He hadn't said a single word the entire time, merely staring at her with those deep eyes.
It was a look that was part scrutiny, part probing.
He had expected her to cry, or make a scene, or at least show a flicker of reluctance.
After all, this woman had loved him for five years, loved him so desperately that she had practically groveled at his feet.
But she did none of that.
Grace’s face was as calm as a frozen lake, without a single ripple of emotion.
The clerk went through the motions robotically. “Have you both considered this carefully? Do you confirm you are divorcing voluntarily?”
Ethan remained silent, his gaze still fixed on Grace.
Grace lifted her eyes to meet his, the corner of her mouth curling into a faint, almost mocking smile.
She spoke clearly. “I confirm.”
Her voice was cold, crisp, and utterly devoid of attachment.
Ethan felt an unexpected pang in his chest.
He frowned as an inexplicable sense of irritation began to bubble up from within.
Grace didn't look at him again.
She picked up the pen without the slightest hesitation.
On the document that signified the end of their five-year marriage, she signed her name.
Each stroke was clear and calm, as if she were signing for an unimportant package.
When she was done, she pushed the agreement toward Ethan, the movement so smooth it seemed rehearsed a thousand times.
“Your turn, Mr. Ward.”
That title, “Mr. Ward,” was so distant and polite it was like an invisible blade, severing the last thread that connected them.
Ethan’s expression darkened further.
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