She Turned Her Grief Into Wings novel Chapter 67

They walked side by side into the main hall.

The clerk took their paperwork, leafed through the documents, and looked up. "Divorce?"

"Yes," Shera nodded.

"All the paperwork is in order." The clerk opened their marriage license, glancing at the photo, the date, and the signatures at the bottom. A look of surprise crossed her face. "I was actually the one who processed your marriage license."

Shera barely blinked, showing no emotion. It was the kind of heavy-handed coincidence you only found in cheap novels.

The clerk asked, "Married for three years?"

Shera replied, "Three years and five months."

Caden turned his head to look at the woman beside him, but Shera kept her perfectly calm gaze fixed on the files across the desk.

The clerk went through the routine questions—division of assets, child custody, and so on. They both shook their heads, silently cooperating with every step of the process.

It all went incredibly fast.

So fast that Shera realized three years of marriage amounted to just a few minutes of paperwork.

The clerk pushed the two documents toward them. "Please sign here."

Shera picked up the pen first, smoothly signing her name in crisp strokes.

Shera Jewell.

Three years ago, she had signed *Shera Jewell*. Three years later, she was signing *Shera Jewell*.

It felt as though nothing had changed at all, yet everything was different.

Once she was done, she slid the pen and the papers over to him, never once glancing in his direction.

Caden stared at her signature in absolute silence. It wasn't until the clerk gently reminded him that he picked up the pen and dashed off his name, signing it with the brisk efficiency of closing a business deal.

"Alright," the clerk said, collecting the papers. "Just give me one minute."

They sat at the window, exactly like any other divorcing couple, without a single word left to say.

Inside City Hall, it was a painfully ordinary scene.

After printing out the receipts, the clerk handed them over. "Keep these safe. In this country, there is a legally mandated separation period of thirty days. Once that concludes, come back to finalize the papers."

"Thank you." Shera took her receipt, slipped it into her bag, and stood up to leave.

He opened the small square box. Inside rested a massive diamond ring—the very same ring he had kissed countless times while holding her hand during their most intimate nights.

Perhaps the sunlight by the door was just too bright, because the glare reflecting off the diamond made his eyes sting and ache.

"Excuse me."

Caden shoved the ring into his pocket and turned around. It was the young couple Shera had taken photos for earlier.

The girl held out a Polaroid, pointing toward the locust tree. "I wanted to say thank you to the lady, but I couldn't find her. This is a picture I took of the two of you earlier. I wish you and your girlfriend a lifetime of happiness."

She paused, lightly tapping her own lips as if realizing her mistake. "Sorry, I meant your wife. I wish you and your wife a lifetime of happiness."

"We'll be going now, sir."

They gave Caden a polite nod before walking away hand in hand. The boy whispered something that made the girl blush and shyly tuck her face against his chest.

Caden held the Polaroid between his fingers. In the photo, the two of them stood facing each other beneath the massive tree draped in red ribbons, their clothes gently catching the wind.

He let out a hollow laugh. They hadn't even noticed that the two people in the picture were looking at each other with absolutely zero emotion.

Or maybe, when you're wrapped in happiness, everything else just looks like happiness, too.