Natalie's POV:
I watched Ethan across the table, hoping for a sign—just one little thing to tell me we could still fix this. A smile, a glance, a trace of the man I married. But all I got was the same cold expression I'd been seeing for months now. His jaw was clenched, his eyes distant, and his fingers drummed against the table as though this whole evening was just another thing to get through.
I tried to ignore the pit growing in my stomach. We were here, weren't we? At the same restaurant where we'd celebrated our first anniversary. I even wore the red dress he used to love—the one that made me feel beautiful when he looked at me like I was the only person in the room. Tonight, though, he hadn't even noticed. Not once had his eyes softened when they landed on me, and that coldness…it chilled me more than I wanted to admit.
I sipped my wine, forcing a smile. "This place still has the best food, don't you think?"
He looked up, barely, before picking up his own glass. "Yeah, sure." His response was flat, uninterested.
The knot in my throat tightened. How did we get here? I had been trying so hard to keep us afloat, to pull us out of this rut we seemed stuck in, but every time I reached out, he pulled further away. I had told myself over and over that tonight would be different. Tonight was our chance to reconnect, to find that spark again.
But now, sitting across from him in silence, I wasn't so sure.
"I've been thinking," I said, my voice softer, more tentative than I wanted. "Maybe we could take a weekend trip together? Get away, just the two of us. Like we used to."
He set his glass down carefully, his eyes fixed on the table. For a moment, I thought I saw something—hesitation, maybe? But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"Natalie, we need to talk."
The tone of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. My pulse quickened, and I forced myself to stay calm, gripping my napkin under the table as I nodded.
"Yeah, I know," I said quickly, trying to keep the conversation from going down a path I wasn't ready for. "That's why I thought this dinner—"
"No," he interrupted, his voice sharper than I expected. "I don't think you understand. This isn't working anymore."
I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. "What…what do you mean?"
He let out a slow, measured breath, reaching into his jacket pocket. My stomach twisted, hoping for something—anything—that could signal this conversation wasn't heading where I feared it was. But when he pulled out the envelope and placed it on the table, my blood ran cold.
"Read it," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
My hands trembled as I picked up the envelope, the weight of it already suffocating. I pulled out the papers inside, and my breath caught in my throat the moment I saw the words Divorce Petition printed at the top.
I felt the ground shift beneath me. The noise of the restaurant faded, replaced by the deafening sound of my heartbeat in my ears. My hands shook as I stared at the papers, the reality of what was happening sinking in like a slow, piercing ache.
"Ethan," I whispered, my voice breaking. "What is this? You can't be serious."
"I am," he said, his tone cold, detached. "It's over, Natalie. We're done."
Done. That single word shattered everything. My throat tightened, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. This wasn't how we were supposed to end.
"You don't mean that," I said, my voice trembling. "We can fix this, Ethan. We just need to try harder. I've been trying—"
He shook his head, cutting me off. "You've been trying. I haven't. And I don't want to anymore."
The finality of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. I looked at him, desperately searching for something—anything—that could explain this. His expression was unreadable, his eyes cold and distant, as though he had already made peace with this decision long before tonight.
I felt my chest tighten as the reality of the situation settled over me. "But…how can you just give up like this? We've been together for so long. We have so much history. You can't just walk away."
"I'm not walking away," he said, standing up from the table. "I've already walked away. This is just the final step."
I stared up at him, speechless, my heart racing as he pulled out his wallet and tossed a few bills onto the table. The gesture felt so dismissive, so final.
"This should cover the bill," he said, not bothering to look at me as he turned toward the exit. "I'll send someone to get my things from the house. You don't have to be there."
I watched him walk away, my entire world unraveling around me. The weight of the divorce papers in my hands felt unbearable, and I couldn't stop the tears that welled up in my eyes. How had we gotten here? How had I not seen this coming?
For a few moments, I just sat there, frozen in shock. I replayed the last few months in my mind, searching for answers, trying to pinpoint when things had gone so horribly wrong. I thought about the late nights when he barely spoke to me, the distance that had grown between us, the times when I had reached out only to be met with silence.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make sense of it. I thought we were just going through a rough patch. I thought we could still fix this. I thought he still loved me.
Now, all I had were these divorce papers and the empty shell of what our marriage used to be.