“Ewan, I want a divorce.”
Athena spoke, finding her voice a minute after seeing her husband, Ewan, and his self–acclaimed best friend, Fiona, in an intimate position on the black, long, plushy L–shaped, gold trimmed sofa
in the sitting room.
What good husband would abandon his wife to grief today? What good husband would choose
to mourn with his wife over
his work–or rather mistress now–to spending at least five minut
her mother’s death? What good husband was that cold hearted?
Seeing
them had brought to her remembrance the unflattering, yet heartbreaking picture that Fiona had sent to her two days ago; of Ewan sleeping at Fiona’s home, in her bed, intertwined
with her. 1
Athena had been beyond pained then, but now she just let out a sarcastic laugh.
Divorce?
Athena had always thought it an abstract event, relegated to certain people, but not her. Yet at this moment, this was the only thing she wanted to do. Oh, the tides of life!
She watched now as Fiona dealt her a withering glare before slithering out of the arms of Ewan who had turned lazily to see the disrupter of his peace.
“What did you just say, Athena?” Ewan asked, sitting up properly on the sofa, his countenance, a canvas of aloofness. A bystander would think that he was asking about the weather, or inquiring about the time.
“I’ve had enough, Ewan. Grant me a divorce.” Athena answered, clamping down the hurt and searing pain that was threatening to mask her face on seeing Fiona slip her right hand into Ewan’s open palm.
Was that a solidarity stance? Athena wasn’t sure, but it pained her the most; her heart tethered on breakage the most when Ewan clasped, and covered Fiona’s hand with an attitude that suggested normalcy.
Athena felt faint then, yet she stood her ground, choosing to see the end of this matter there. and then, before disappearing to grieve two losses. She believed that she had no choice at the
moment.
Coainer that Ewan didn’t care for her amatione had never cared actually it would he etunid of
1 Divorce
Seeing that Ewan didn’t care for her emotions, had never cared actually, it would be stupid of her to break down in tears before them. Her foolishness and naivety of three years ended here. She no longer had the desire to thaw the ice that was Ewan Giacometti.
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