Clara looked down at her husband, her expression entirely serene, devoid of the tears he likely expected. The years of playing the invisible, underappreciated housewife were officially over, and the power dynamic had completely shifted.
“You didn’t even realize what day it was, did you, Marcus?” Clara said, her voice cutting through his panicked sobbing with absolute, sharp iciness. “You were so busy planning this ‘business trip’ that you completely forgot today is our seventh wedding anniversary. But don’t worry, I made sure it would be memorable.” Marcus scrambled to his feet, trying to grab her hand, but Clara stepped back, looking at him with nothing but cold indifference.
“I want a divorce,” she stated smoothly, her tone as calm as if she were reading a grocery list. “Don’t bother coming back to the house. I will see you in court.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the pavilion, leaving him entirely alone in the wreckage of his own making.