“For us. I’m divorcing you, Darius. Please sign them so I can leave.”
“You’re not leaving. We’re not separating. I am not fine with divorcing you, Rosella. You’ll stay here,” he said calmly, but his voice was brewing with storm.
I rolled my eyes and let them fall to his messy desk. I pushed the lacy thong that belonged to Sasha across to him.
“Why would you want the three of us to suffer, Darius? You can have the world for the two of you. You just have to free me—”
“You know Sasha’s pregnant. I’m doing all of this for her and the baby! After that, she’s nothing to me. You’ll remain my wife. Why can’t you understand that?” His voice cracked with frustration.
He rubbed his head, trying to calm down, then walked to the sofa and leaned back, likely to control his anger.
I’d heard of situations like this, but those couples still respected each other. With us, it was different. She was sleeping with him, acting like his wife. What was I supposed to do? Endure it?
“I can no longer endure the torture here,” I said.
“You know what’s torture?” He raised his voice. “That’s marrying a woman who couldn’t bear my child! Finding another woman who can because my wife is a useless—”