Negative. Again. How many was this now?
Frustrated, Anna tossed the used pregnancy test onto the bathroom sink, her fists clenching in growing agitation.
Another test. Another wasted effort. And another stark reminder of her failure. In the Hyde household, if you couldn't produce the desired results, you were nothing more than a disappointment. Useless. Wasted.
She exhaled shakily, picking up the test once more. Her vision blurred with unshed tears as she stared at that single, merciless blue line—the same line that had haunted her for years. It almost felt like it was mocking her, just as Robert's family had ever since the doctor had first uttered those fateful words: she would have difficulty conceiving.
Seven years. She had been married to Robert Hyde for seven long years, and their inability to produce an heir weighed on her shoulders like an anchor, the burden growing heavier with each passing year.
"Anna?"
Robert's husky voice echoed down the second-floor hallway. She flinched, nearly dropping the test in her panic.
Heart pounding, she hastily shoved it deep into the trash bin, burying it beneath a pile of napkins. It wasn't that she was afraid of Robert seeing another negative test—he had long since come to terms with her infertility. But the fact that they were still trying… It left a fragile ember of hope flickering inside her.
Maybe, just maybe, all wasn't lost yet.
"Anna?"
This time, his voice was closer. Anna's breath hitched as she realized Robert had entered their bedroom.
She smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles on her knee-length beige cotton dress, composing herself before stepping out of the bathroom. A warm smile curved her lips—practiced, effortless. The kind of smile expected of a stay-at-home wife whose sole duty was to be pleasant, to ensure her husband's happiness at all times.
But the moment Robert's gaze landed on her, his expression hardened. A deep frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his otherwise handsome features. Lately, that look had become more frequent, though Anna couldn't quite understand why.
"Robert," she said cautiously, as she always did. "Is everything alright?"
His dark brown eyes studied her from beneath thick black brows, his face almost unreadable. Between them lay their bed—the bed they rarely shared anymore. And with each passing second of silence, it felt as if the distance between them stretched wider and wider, pulling them further apart.
Robert let out a low, frustrated groan, raking a pale hand through his sleek black hair, messing it up slightly. "That pitiful face of yours is only making this harder..."
He muttered the last part under his breath, too low for her to hear. Still, before she could press for clarity, he tossed a black plastic folder onto the bed with a sharp flick of his wrist. His frown deepened, his jaw tightening.
"I want a divorce."
Anna's hands fell to her sides, her entire body trembling as if an earthquake had just torn through the room.
No. She must have misheard.
Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she took a small, unsteady step forward, forcing her voice to remain calm.
"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Could you repeat that?"
Anna's voice wavered, but she forced herself to keep her composure.
Robert let out another irritated groan, his tone dropping to something colder, firmer. "These are the divorce papers drawn up by the family lawyer. Sign them. I want a divorce, Anna."
The words hit her like a slap. Her face paled, her heartbeat thundering so loudly in her ears that it drowned out everything else. She turned her wide green eyes to the black folder resting on their bed, her legs suddenly weak beneath her.
Why is this happening? Why now?
She looked back at Robert, searching his face for some trace of hesitation, some hint that he didn't truly mean this. But he only sighed and averted his gaze, as if the mere sight of her was unbearable.
"Don't tell me you didn't see this coming," he said, his voice laced with barely restrained impatience. "And don't try to make this harder than it has to be. I have someone I truly love, and I want to marry her instead. I want a real marriage—not… this."
Someone else he loves. Yes, she knew that.
Anna's fingers curled into tight fists, her nails digging into her palms. A real marriage? Was that what their seven years together had amounted to? A meaningless arrangement?
She locked eyes with him, her deep green irises darkening with emotion, but whatever she was feeling—pain, disbelief, fury—Robert met it with nothing but cold indifference.
Then, as if savoring her reaction, he smirked and added, "Unlike you, she's warm. Alive. Genuine. She makes me feel things… things you never could. With her, I feel like a man, not just someone indebted to you."
"What?"
Anna finally forced the question out, her voice shaking as anger clawed its way up her throat, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Her lips parted in disbelief. "How can you even say something like that?! After everything I have—"
"See?" Robert cut her off, his tone sharp and dismissive. "There you go again—always bringing up what you have done for this marriage. What now? Are you going to guilt-trip me again? Drag your father into this, too?"
Anna felt as if something inside her had snapped. A volatile mix of rage, frustration, and disbelief swelled within her like a pressure cooker about to explode. Before she could stop herself, she snatched the black folder off the bed, nearly leaped toward her husband, and hurled it straight at Robert's face. He barely dodged it.
"My father was the one who saved you and your entire family when you were on the verge of ruin! And what did he get in return?" Her voice cracked with fury. "Prison! Death! You killed him!"
Slap!
The sound echoed through the room, sharp and deafening.
Robert's hand struck her across the face, the force snapping her head to the side. His fingers curled into a fist at his waist as if restraining himself from more.
Anna gasped, her breath catching in her throat. A cold hand shot up to her stinging cheek, her wide green eyes swimming with fear and disbelief.