Divorce to Destiny: Reclaiming My CEO Husband novel Chapter 189

189 Glimmers 

(Winona) 

The therapy room is the same as always–soft lighting, comfortable chairs, Barnaby’s calming presence in the middle. But today, there’s a new tension in the air. 

Mom sits beside me, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, eyes flicking around the room like a trapped 

animal. 

Barnaby smiles warmly at her. “Lucy, thank you for joining us today. This is a safe space for Winona and now, for you. You’re welcome to share as much or as little as you’d like.” 

Mom nods but doesn’t say anything. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. I give her a reassuring smile, but I know this is hard for her. Hell, it’s hard for me, and I’ve been doing this for a while now. 

Barnaby starts gently, asking Mom about her life before Cass, before everything went to hell. At first, she’s hesitant, giving short, clipped answers. 

But Barnaby has a way of getting under your skin, making you open up even when you don’t want to. 

“I know it’s hard to talk about, to relive. But hearing it from you helps Winona to be able to understand and move on from it,” Barnaby encourages. 

“I should never have made it through that time,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “There were days I didn’t think I would. I didn’t want to. But something kept me going.” 

“Keep going, you’re doing great,” Barnaby says in his low voice, the one that leads you on to say more without you even realizing. 

“I just always believed inside me that Winona was somehow protected as long as I was there. Even in that vegetated state. I was on the edge of losing it every second of every day, but Winona pulled me through.” 

It’s a relief to hear her open up. To know I’m not the only one who’s felt like that. Who’s had to fight some days just to want to keep breathing. 

Barnaby nods, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable to feel that way, Lucy. You’ve been through more than most people could ever imagine. But you survived, and that’s something to be very, very proud 

of.” 

Mom looks at him, her eyes filled with years of pain. “Proud? Of what? That I let myself be used and abused in the worst possible way and somehow made it out the other side? That I didn’t die when I probably should have?” 

“Proud that you’re here, right now, in this room with your daughter,” Barnaby says softly. “Proud that you found the strength to change and raise another daughter, even when it really was impossible.” 

Mom’s eyes fill with tears, and she quickly looks away, blinking them back. I reach out and take her hand, squeezing it tight. She doesn’t pull away. 

Barnaby shifts the mood. Sitting upright and giving a big grin. “Let’s talk about something called ‘glimmers. They’re the opposite of triggers. Small moments in your day that make you feel safe, happy, and content, 

“Okay, glimmers, got it,” I say. 

189 Glimmers 

+25 BONUS 

“It could be anything–a smell, a sound, a memory. Something that brings you back to the present and reminds you that not everything is bad.” 

Mom looks at him like he’s speaking another language. “Glimmers?” 

“Yes,” Barnaby says with a smile. “For me, one of my glimmers is the smell of fresh coffee in the morning. Reminds me that I’ve woken up, and that’s far better than the alternative.” 

He pauses, a faraway look in his eye. “Finding the parking spot I want isn’t taken. Because if it is, I don’t have to follow that car home and throw something through their window later. Frees up my me–time.” 

I blink at him, caught off guard, while Mom just stares. Did he just say that? I’m not sure if he’s joking or if he’s serious. But before I can figure it out, he keeps going. 

“Or when I find my favorite snack in the break room that’s labeled with someone’s name and I eat it anyway.” He shrugs. “YOLO.” 

I can’t help it–I laugh. The absurdity of it, the randomness. But that’s Barnaby. 

“YOLO?” Mom asks. 

“You only live once,” I explain. 

Mom actually smiles at that, a small, tentative smile, but it’s there. “I guess I haven’t really been looking for the good stuff.” 

“That’s okay,” Barnaby reassures her. “Find those little moments that make you feel good, no matter how small they are. Write them down. With practice, they’ll outweigh the triggers.“. 

“For me, it’s Abby’s laugh. Hearing her laugh is like a reset button for my brain. It reminds me that there’s still joy in my world, even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.” 

“Exactly, Winona.” 

“Take your time,” Barnaby says gently. “And remember, it can be little things. The things that make you feel like it’s all going to be okay, even if just for a moment.” 

“When Cass hugs me. That’s when I feel safe. And now when Winona hugs me,” Mom says. 

“Perfect. So you both have homework before next week’s session.” 

I see a spark of hope in Mom’s eyes. Maybe this is the start of something new. Something better. 

As we leave, Barnaby adds, “remember, Lucy, even a hot buttered piece of toast can be a glimmer. Or, you know, when I don’t resist the urge to prank–call my ex after a few too many glasses of wine…” 

Mom laughs–a genuine laugh–and it’s the best glimmer I’ve had all day. 

189 Glimmers 

(Winona) 

The therapy room is the same as always–soft lighting, comfortable chairs, Barnaby’s calming presence in the middle. But today, there’s a new tension in the air. 

Mom sits beside me, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, eyes flicking around the room like a trapped 

animal. 

Barnaby smiles warmly at her. “Lucy, thank you for joining us today. This is a safe space for Winona and now, for you. You’re welcome to share as much or as little as you’d like.” 

Mom nods but doesn’t say anything. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. I give her a reassuring smile, but I know this is hard for her. Hell, it’s hard for me, and I’ve been doing this for a while now. 

Barnaby starts gently, asking Mom about her life before Cass, before everything went to hell. At first, she’s hesitant, giving short, clipped answers. 

But Barnaby has a way of getting under your skin, making you open up even when you don’t want to. 

“I know it’s hard to talk about, to relive. But hearing it from you helps Winona to be able to understand and move on from it,” Barnaby encourages. 

“I should never have made it through that time,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “There were days I didn’t think I would. I didn’t want to. But something kept me going.” 

“Keep going, you’re doing great,” Barnaby says in his low voice, the one that leads you on to say more without you even realizing. 

“I just always believed inside me that Winona was somehow protected as long as I was there. Even in that vegetated state. I was on the edge of losing it every second of every day, but Winona pulled me through.” 

It’s a relief to hear her open up. To know I’m not the only one who’s felt like that. Who’s had to fight some days just to want to keep breathing. 

Barnaby nods, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable to feel that way, Lucy. You’ve been through more than most people could ever imagine. But you survived, and that’s something to be very, very proud 

of.” 

Mom looks at him, her eyes filled with years of pain. “Proud? Of what? That I let myself be used and abused in the worst possible way and somehow made it out the other side? That I didn’t die when I probably should have?” 

“Proud that you’re here, right now, in this room with your daughter,” Barnaby says softly. “Proud that you found the strength to change and raise another daughter, even when it really was impossible.” 

Mom’s eyes fill with tears, and she quickly looks away, blinking them back. I reach out and take her hand, squeezing it tight. She doesn’t pull away. 

Barnaby shifts the mood. Sitting upright and giving a big grin. “Let’s talk about something called ‘glimmers. They’re the opposite of triggers. Small moments in your day that make you feel safe, happy, and content, 

“Okay, glimmers, got it,” I say. 

189 Glimmers