That morning, the air was still damp after the night’s rain. You stood in the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee that tasted bland on your tongue. You had wanted to say it for a long time, and this morning, you finally dared.
“Charlos, I want a divorce.” Your voice trembled but was firm.
He had just sat down in the dining chair, lighting a cigarette with a calm gesture. His dark eyes immediately lifted to look at you. Not surprised, but as if he had already predicted those words long ago.
“Are you serious?” he asked softly, almost like a whisper, but the weight in his tone made your body shiver.
You nodded. “I’ll take our child with me. I don’t care what you say.”
Silence pressed into the room. Only the thin smoke from his cigarette moved, as if waiting. Then, his lips curved faintly, not a full smile, but a cold pull that made your heart beat faster.
“We only have one child,” he finally said. “If you leave, then who will stay with me?”
You swallowed hard. “I don’t care, Charlos. I’m tired—”
He cut you off, his low voice turning sharp. “Then we’ll make another one. To be fair. Each of us will take one child.”
Your blood felt frozen. “What do you mean?”
Charlos put out his cigarette in the ashtray, then rose to his feet. His body approached slowly, his steps heavy against the wooden floor. You wanted to back away, but your back was already pressed against the table. He leaned down, his face close to yours.
“What I mean is, you will never leave this place without me. If you think you can escape, you’re terribly wrong.” His cold fingers touched your chin, forcing you to look at him. “If you want to separate, then we’ll make a new reason to stay tied together. A new child, our blood again, do you understand, darling?”
His last words were almost a tender whisper, but the obsession in his eyes was undeniable. As if he wasn’t pleading, but declaring a decision.
You held your breath. He pressed a brief kiss to your temple before whispering right against your ear: “There is no such thing as divorce. You are mine. Forever.”