My Husband's Affair My Anniversary Gift (Lily and David) novel Chapter 350

When the envelope arrived, Riyana already felt something was wrong.

It was the same courier service. Same thick paper. Same formal handwriting. For a brief second, she thought maybe he had signed it after all. Maybe last night had shaken him enough. Maybe, just maybe, he had finally understood that she was serious.

That hope died the moment she opened it.

Ash fell onto the table.

Not neatly, not gently, it spilled out like dirt from a grave.

Riyana froze.

Her eyes moved slowly over the grey-black powder, the burnt corners of what used to be legal paper, the faint smell of smoke still trapped inside the envelope. Her divorce papers. Reduced to nothing. Not even torn. Destroyed.

Her breath turned shallow.

The lawyer sitting across from her went pale. He had seen angry clients before, but this was different. Riyana wasn’t shouting. She wasn’t moving.

That scared him more.

Her fingers slowly curled around the envelope.

The paper crumpled in her grip.

“So,” she said quietly, voice low and steady, “this is his answer.”

The lawyer swallowed hard. “Ms. Rivan… I wasn’t expecting this response.”

Riyana laughed once. A short, bitter sound with no humor in it.

“I was,” she said.

Her eyes lifted to the lawyer, sharp and cold. He flinched without meaning to.

“Ms. Rivan,” he said carefully, “should I prepare and send another notice? We can....”

She slammed the envelope onto the table.

The sound echoed in the room.

The lawyer nearly jumped out of his chair.

“No,” Riyana said flatly.

Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath, forcing the anger down before it exploded. Her hands were shaking now. Not weak. Furious.

“I know him,” she continued. “This is how he talks when he wants to threaten someone without saying a word.”

She leaned back in her chair, eyes fixed on the ashes as if they might still speak.

“He’s telling me I don’t get to decide,” she said. “He’s telling me I can’t walk away unless he allows it.”

The lawyer nodded slowly, unsure what to say.

Riyana closed her eyes for a moment.

In her head, she could see his face. Calm, Cold and Controlled. Burning her freedom just to prove he could.

Her jaw tightened.

“He won’t sign,” she said again, more to herself this time.

“Not easily. Not quietly.”

The lawyer cleared his throat.

“Ms. Rivan… if this becomes contested, things could get messy. He has power. Influence. He can delay this for years if he wants.”

She opened her eyes.

“I know,” she said.

Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach, fingers pressing lightly as if grounding herself.

“But I’m not backing down,” she added, voice firm now. “Not for him. Not for anyone.”

The lawyer hesitated. “Then… what would you like to do next?”

Riyana stared at the ashes one last time. Then she pushed the envelope away.

“Nothing,” she said. “Not yet.”

She stood up, shoulders straight, anger burning clean and sharp in her chest.

“If he thinks this will scare me,” she said calmly, “he doesn’t know me at all.”

The lawyer nodded, still uneasy. “Understood, Ms. Rivan.”

As she walked out of the office, Riyana didn’t look back.

Inside her, fear and anger twisted together, but beneath it all was something stronger.

Resolve.

Jabco watched her from across the table.

Her silence eased something inside him. He told himself this meant she had cooled down. That the divorce thing was over. That she had finally accepted reality.

He didn’t understand that this wasn’t surrender.

This was distance.

They finished eating in silence.

Riyana ate every bite. Slowly. Without expression.

Inside, her emotions were not calm at all. Her anger had not gone anywhere. She had simply buried it deeper. This silence was not surrender. It was strategy.

She had decided something during the day.

If he wanted control, she would give him distance.

If he wanted obedience, she would give him emptiness.

If he wanted to pretend everything was fine, she would let him drown in that lie.

After they finished eating, she stood up, collected the plates, and went to wash them.

Jabco watched her from the table, confused.

This looked normal. Too normal.

A wife washing dishes after her husband cooked. A shared routine. A shared home.

But something about it unsettled him more than her shouting ever had.

She wasn’t forgiving him.

She was erasing him.

Riyana washed the dishes calmly, her hands steady. Her mind cold and clear.

She wasn’t doing this for him.

She was doing this for herself.

She wanted him to feel what it was like to exist beside someone who no longer gave anything emotionally. No warmth. No affection. No reaction.

This was her way of fighting.