At the entrance, a pair of men’s shoes sat neatly beside mine—Zavier’s.
Was this woman brain-dead?
She had the audacity to bring him here?
I changed my shoes and stepped inside, only to freeze at the sight before me.
Zavier stood in the kitchen, holding a piece of meat to Hyacinth’s lips. She smiled, radiant, savoring the so-called moment of intimacy.
The warmth in her eyes vanished the moment she spotted me.
"H-honey..."
Her voice trembled with panic. "Don’t misunderstand! I was just tasting the seasoning, and my hands were full, so I let Zavier help me."
“No need to explain."
My gaze swept over her—over them. Then I pulled out the divorce papers from my briefcase and placed them on the table.
"And by the way, you don’t need to call me 'husband' anymore."
Her breath hitched.
"Sign it. We’ll finalize our divorce tomorrow."
Hyacinth’s face went pale. She stared at me, disbelief clouding her eyes. "Honey… You really want to divorce me?"
"Tobias, you have no shame!"
"My Hyacinth has already lowered herself to cook for you. What more do you want?"
His glare sharpened. "I even personally came here to apologize! What else do you want? Don’t push your luck!"
Hearing that, I let out a low, amused laugh.