Once Us, Now Dust

Chapter 5

At my words, Christopher froze, his eyes wide in shock. "What did you say? Sophia."

I signed my name on each page of the divorce papers, pressing my thumbprint on the final page with lipstick before pushing the documents toward him. "I said, I want a divorce."

Christopher tugged at his shirt collar, a mix of frustration and disbelief on his face. "Sophia, have you completely lost it? Who would want a middle-aged woman like you once you leave me?"

So, in Christopher's eyes, I was already a "middle-aged woman" at barely 30.

I tossed the pen onto his lap, not missing a beat. "Haven't you heard? 30 is the new 20 for women."

I gave him a flat look before adding, "But you know I can't continue as your assistant after the divorce. I'll need a few days to hand over your schedule to the new assistant."

My calm, matter-of-fact tone seemed to infuriate him even more. He let out a bitter laugh and pointed at me, his eyes burning with impatience.

"Sophia, you're playing with fire. You're taking this too far."

Right then, Mia's special ringtone blared from his phone.

Christopher didn't answer, his glare intensifying as he fixed his eyes on me. "Didn't you want to have a baby before turning 30? I know you're ovulating right now."

A cruel smile tugged at his lips. "I'll give you three seconds to take back what you just said."

I could feel my heart pound, the words I'd said only seconds ago lingering in the air like poison. Last year, on my 29th birthday, I had talked about wanting to get pregnant. Since then, my ovulation period had become an "appointment" for Christopher to fulfill his husbandly duties.

But what he didn't know was that I had stopped ovulating last month.

The ringtone echoed through the room like a ticking time bomb. In three seconds, it would shatter whatever fragile connection remained between us.

"You've got guts, Sophia," he sneered. "Let's see how long you can keep up this act."

With that, Christopher stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

As the echo of the door's final thud lingered, I pulled out my phone and booked an abortion for two days later.

Lying on the operating table, the doctor glanced at the ultrasound and hesitated. "Miss Sophia, the baby is developing very well. Are you sure you don't want to discuss this with the father?"

Just then, my phone buzzed with a social media notification.