Chapter 158

Chapter 158
“I’m exhausted, Clayton. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I’m leaving you.” She pressed a trembling hand against her chest, as if it could stop the pain splitting her apart. “I’m doing this for myself because if I stay any longer, there won't be anything left of me to save.”

Olivia loosened her grip on the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Then she let go. The blanket slipped from her fingers, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

She started walking toward the door, uncaring if her wet clothes made her shiver. Before she could reach it, white sheets danced aimlessly through the air, caught in a slow, dramatic motion. Then, strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

“Don’t do this,” he choked out. “Please don't leave me. I know I don't deserve another chance, but give me one anyway. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just... Please don't leave.”

Clayton buried his face at the crook of her neck. His arms tightened around her, holding on as if he were trying to memorize the feeling of having her in his embrace. Because he knew, deep down, this might be the last time.

Something warm dropped against the side of her neck. For a moment, Olivia told herself it was water dripping from his damp hair. But the drops kept falling—one after another. They soaked into her skin, carrying a warmth no rainwater could ever hold.

She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him cry. Yet she didn't turn around. Because if she looked at him now and saw his anguished face, she wasn't sure she would have the strength to leave.

Slowly, Olivia reached for the arms wrapped around her waist. She peeled one away, then the other. His hands resisted at first, clinging desperately as though they had a will of their own. But eventually, his fingers loosened and slipped away.

She leaned closer, her voice venomously gentle as it brushed his ear.

“You can’t undo what you’ve done. A wound, once made, cannot be undone. And the cruelest thing about your regret is that it came too late for me to forgive and forget.”

Though every step felt like walking barefoot over shattered glass, she turned and walked toward the door.

Some endings hurt. Some endings leave scars that never truly fade. But not all endings are tragedies; some are the beginning of finally being free.

Olivia quietly closed the door behind her, like closing the final chapter of a book she had finished reading.

She made a beeline straight toward her car without so much as a glance to check if he followed. She was too exhausted for one more goodbye.

For too many years, she had lived for everyone except herself, but she finally chose differently.

Today, for the first time, she chose herself. And though it felt like dying, she walked away without regret.

—

She packed her clothes, jewelry, and other important belongings into a never-been-used suitcase she had bought years ago. Placing each item inside felt heavier than it should have, and throughout the process, she fought back tears.

Olivia felt tempted to keep at least one memento of her marriage, but she squashed the thought as quickly as it arrived.

What for?

To hold it at night and weep her heart out? To torture herself every time her eyes bore on it? No. What it would take was a single glance at a forgotten photograph, a gift, or some meaningless trinket to tear open wounds that were only beginning to close.

Moving on was painful enough. She had no desire to make the journey even harder. She was better off leaving everything behind. Anything that reminded her of her soon-to-be ex-husband had no place in her suitcase.

Finally, she finished packing with flying colors. Making it through the ordeal without breaking down in tears felt like a victory of its own. She left her house key on the nightstand and walked toward the main door. It was only as she stepped outside and closed the door behind her that she realized packing had been the easy part.

Saying goodbye to the life she had built, the memories she had made, and the years she had spent as Clayton's wife was far harder.

_

“Smile, Olivia! This is a celebration, not a funeral.”

Olivia tore her eyes away from the 65-inch television screen and wiped at the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She turned toward Bella, who was sitting cross-legged on the rug beside her. Sloane and Czara lounged nearby, equally invested in the movie.

Behind them, sprawled across the velvet couch and occupying far more space than her size warranted, was Cinnamon, their shared furbaby. The fluffy Pomeranian lay on her back with all four paws in the air, looking every bit like a pampered princess.

They were gathered in the living room of a duplex apartment in an upscale residential building. From now on, this would be Olivia's home—a place she would be sharing with Bella and Czara. Sloane used to live there as well, but she had moved out shortly after marrying.

“It was your idea to watch Titanic!” Olivia shot back, making a face.

Apparently, Bella's idea of celebrating was binge-watching tragic movies while stuffing herself with nachos and popcorn. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to watch Leonardo DiCaprio die five times in less than a year?”

“I thought it would make you feel better,” Bella replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“How was it supposed to make me feel better?" Olivia asked dryly.

Bella waved a hand dramatically toward the screen. “Because it proves how stupid love is. Jack could've saved himself if he wasn't so moonstruck.”

The declaration was accompanied by enough hand gestures to direct traffic. When it came to logic, Bella treated emotions the way scientists treated lab rats—something to be studied, dissected, and ultimately proven wrong.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “You completely missed the point of the movie.”