Left for Dead Came Back for Everything novel Chapter 185

"Ticket C007—Ticket C007, please proceed to Window 3."

The crisp automated announcement instantly killed his speech.

Eliza stood up, angling her body away to avoid his gaze entirely.

She slung the canvas tote over her shoulder, shoved the paper slip into her pocket, and adjusted her stance with practiced ease.

"Did you bring the paperwork or not?"

Zander choked on his own breath.

All the heartfelt revelations he thought would break her facade jammed in his throat, completely silenced.

"...I brought them."

He whispered.

His voice sounded like bubbles trapped underwater—muffled and shattered.

He fished a clear plastic folder from his coat's inner pocket.

IDs, residency booklets, passport-sized photos, and the original marriage certificates, all perfectly organized by Eleanor.

Eliza gave the marriage certificate a passing glance.

Her expression remained completely blank.

"Let's go." She turned on her heel and headed straight for Window 3.

Zander trailed behind her, his feet feeling like lead.

With every step he took, his heart plummeted another inch into his stomach.

A clerk in her early forties sat behind Window 3, adjusting her glasses. She had a kind face, with a small potted pothos plant resting on her desk.

"Hello. Please, have a seat."

The two of them sat side by side at the counter.

Leaving exactly one fist's width of space between them.

Eliza casually rested her tote by her feet and pushed her ID and documents across the counter in a neat stack.

The clerk skimmed over their paperwork before asking the mandatory question.

"Is this divorce mutual and voluntary?"

"Yes," Eliza replied, without a fraction of a second's delay.

The clerk shifted her gaze to Zander.

Zander opened his mouth.

Then she set the pen down in front of Zander.

The pen rolled half an inch, nearly slipping off the edge of the counter.

Zander stared at the plastic barrel.

He raised his hand, then let it drop.

Raised it again.

Dropped it again.

Eliza didn't even look at him.

Her eyes were fixed on the little pothos plant on the clerk's desk.

The leaves were perfectly maintained, a vibrant, lively green. A fresh vine trailed down the edge of the pot, its delicate tip suspended in midair, still searching for something to anchor itself to.

"Sir?" the clerk prompted politely.

Zander finally picked up the pen.

"Zander, please don't waste everyone's time."

......