Page 113 of My Dark Divine

The day of

Paranoia has taken hold, turning me into a nervous wreck, and I fear I’m slipping into something darker, something I can’t control. Everything was supposed to improve once I got rid of Cameron, clearing the threat from our business path. And outside of Zayden’s and my personal lives, it has indeed gotten better. The business is thriving, and money flows like a river.

My husband has become a phantom, a fleeting shadow in our home. He disappears, sometimes for days, leaving behindan echoing emptiness. The scent of her perfume lingers like a curse, and the red lipstick stains mock me, a stark reminder of his infidelity. It’s as though she’s leaving it all on purpose, and he doesn’t care that she’s laughing at me behind my back. Maybe he even encourages her to do that.

Before, I could cope with this pain by locking myself in my room and crying for hours. Now, it feels like my insides have dried up. I can no longer summon tears, and every time I try, nothing comes out. At this point, I think it’s more likely I’d start crying blood.

I feel empty. My heart has stopped aching, and I think I missed the moment it was ripped from my chest. Now, there’s a void inside me, leaving me incapable of feeling any emotions. My mind urges me to accept this. Maybe I’m not as good as I thought I was. I’ve failed Mom and Dad, failed myself. I can’t be a good wife, a good daughter, or a good friend.

I can’t be anything.

The click of the front door downstairs pulls me out of my reverie, and in an instant, I’m jumping off the bed and rushing down. Disbelief wraps tightly around my bones as I realize he’s come home much earlier than usual. When I see his face and catch the gleam in his eyes—the one not clouded by drugs or alcohol—pure happiness, foreign and bright, sparks within me. A smile blooms on my face as I rush to him, arms spreading wide to lock him in the tightest hug I’ve ever given.

“I missed you,” I whisper against his chest, expecting him to hug me back. But he doesn’t. Moments pass, and still nothing. I lift my head to look at him, but his eyes are glued to the wall, deliberately avoiding mine. “What’s wrong, Zayden?”

His palms press against my chest, nudging me back as his lips twitch with annoyance. “Look,” he begins, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. “We need to talk.”

Worry flares up inside me, erasing the flicker of positivity I felt just a moment ago. My smile fades, and I fold my arms across my chest, clearing my throat. “About what?”

“I want a divorce.”

I freeze, every muscle in my body tightening under an invisible weight. Then, a laugh bursts from my chest, shaking my frame. “O-okay,” I drawl, amusement thick in my voice.

His brows shoot up to his hairline as he scrutinizes me from head to toe. “I’m serious, Venetia. Look, it’s not me, it’s you—” He pauses, his gaze lifting to the ceiling as he realizes he’s said the wrong thing. “I mean, it’s not you, it’s me… Whatever. You get it. I need you to sign the papers.”

My world crumbles, a fragile edifice collapsing into the abyss of my despair. Panic flares, a wildfire consuming my sanity, leaving only ashes in its wake. “What? No,” I stammer. “I don’t—I don’t get it, Zayden. What do you mean? Everything was perfect?—”

His chuckle cuts me off mid-sentence, igniting a painful mix of anger and despair inside me. “Perfect? Are you fucking blind, Venetia? If you’re talking about yourself, then yes, sure, it was perfect for you,” he says, each word slicing through me. “Look, I thought I could make myself live with this. I thought I could force myself to love you.” A shrug ripples through his shoulders. “But I’m fucking tired of this circus. Tired of pretending to love the idea of this marriage, the idea of you. You can’t imagine how tired I am.”

He’s the one who’s tired? He didn’t do anything for our relationship. He used me in every way imaginable and then wiped his feet on me. I’ve never felt safe with him, never experienced what I wanted—a husband’s support, a reliable shoulder to cry on.

And now he says he’s the one who’s tired.

My fists curl instinctively, nails digging into the soft flesh of my palms. I can already feel the bloody half-moons, but this dull pain doesn’t distract me as I had hoped. “You’ve never been forced into anything with me,” I mumble, hating myself for breaking apart before him. It’s always been my biggest flaw—whenever I argue with someone, I can’t help but shrink back into my shell, becoming small, vulnerable, and utterly miserable.

It feels like he’s compressing me, the walls closing in on all sides, and I’m powerless to escape.

“You know that’s not true. There was a reason we needed to be together and get married. But it doesn’t matter anymore,” he replies nonchalantly, and I shake my head, trying to convince both him and myself. “Don’t shake your head. You can’t fix this marriage, no matter how hard you try.”

“Is it because of her?” I demand, my voice cracking with barely contained rage. My sanity hangs by a thread.

His face betrays him, the ghost of joy piercing my heart like a sharp dagger. I try to fight back the flames of anger, but they only grow stronger, fueled by the sight of him so alive at the mention of her.

“You always tried to make me your business, Venetia,” he says, his hands gesturing wildly, trying to articulate his frustration. “You’re... I don’t fucking know! You’re too much, okay? Look at what you’ve become because of it. Look at yourself.”

His eyes rake over me, disgust etching itself into his features. I know I’ve never been the prettiest girl in the world, and the sorrowful days have taken their toll. The dark circles under my eyes, the unkempt hair, the damaged skin around my nails, and the dirty clothes—I’m the epitome of neglect.

And she’s the walking definition of fucking perfection in her slutty dress and heels. She embodies everything I used to bebefore Zayden turned me into the shell standing before him now.

He made me like this.

“What did I do wrong?” I push, though my voice lacks conviction. I feel like I’ve asked this question too many times already, and deep down, I know the answer.

He bows his head, clicking his tongue in irritation as if he can’t bear to tolerate me. “Nothing. I just?—”

“NO!” I cut in, my scream vibrating through the walls of my throat. My anger churns in my stomach like molten lava, threatening to erupt. I’m so tired of being dismissed. “Why the fuck are you leaving me if I didn’t do anything wrong, huh?” I step closer, my insides shaking from the intense emotions that course through my veins. “I did everything for you, for this fucking marriage, but you can’t fucking see it!”

His eyes widen in shock, and he whistles, shifting his weight back onto his heels before laughter bursts from him.

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