Regretting Divorce

I looked back at her and then 

my hand. 

“That’s okay. Just… Just wrap it up quickly 

“But sir, stitches have- 

Tll do it myself then.” 

“TIL… I’ll do it.” She held my hand tight as I tried to take it back. 

Stacy quietly cleaned my wound and covered it with a thick layer of ointment. She then wrapped it carefully. Not even two minutes passed since the bandage was changed and it was dark red again. 

Stacy stared at it helplessly. On her way out, she requested me to see a doctor again. 

1 ignored her and focused back on the papers. I cleaned the blood on the desk with tissues and discarded them. When I held the files again, and took a pen to scribble my signature, my eyes stilled on the freshly wrapped gauze on my hand. 

How did I get it? It’s quite surprising because it was done to punish my impulsiveness for raising my hand on my own wife. 

Yes, I punished myself. I literally shattered a glass in my hand until the broken pieces penetrated my flesh half inch deep. 

Ever since Claire left the hospital, my heart has been a mess. I have been a mess and I don’t know why. Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

My chest was compressed under an unknown and inexplicable weight of guilt. It was for more than hitting my wife. 

On top of that, I was all over the place as I wanted to know how she was because she forcefully left the hospital against the doctor’s advice. 

Cole visited her father’s house to meet her in the early morning the next day. But he informed me he was not allowed to see her. Claire was avoiding him- avoiding the elements that connected us 

That fact alone sent my anger soaring and I tightened my hold on the glass of water that I was holding. I crushed it in my tight grip, not loosening my hold even after it jabbed me badly, 

Had it not been for a passing by waitress in the coffee shop I was sitting in, I wouldn’t have left it any sooner. 

Closing my eyes, I tried to take a deep breath. Claire’s images filled my eyes. I immediately undid my eyelids and stared at 

the wall in the front. 

I don’t know what has happened to me? I can’t get rid of Claire’s houghts. 

I should be happy that she’s gone. I should feel elated that I don’t have to use forceful means to make her leave me. 

But now as I think about not returning home to the sight of her face glowing up on finding me at the door every evening. not getting to see her joyful smiles for wearing the shirt she chose for me every morning, not finding my favorite dishes. covering the dining table end–to–end, not being able to feel her soft hands coming around my waist and her head on my shoulder at night in sleep, not being able to hear her non–stop chattering in the house, a flaming pain buzzes through me. 

I went to our house for the first time after she left two days ago a night, and I was hit by the strong smell of her presence. 

She wasn’t there but still she was there. 

I had stopped by the staircase, staring at the floor with blood patches. It was cleaned but not to the extent of removing its marks completely. I had bent over, touching my fingers on the cold floor. 

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Her imprints were etched in this house. I couldn’t stay there for more than five minutes. I ran away. I ran back to the hospital where Cole confronted me. 

Even if he saw my conflicted expressions, he didn’t do a thing. He only spoke to offer his house and clothes as I was in need. of a bath and change of clothes. 

Since then, I have not visited my house. Neither did I go to hospital for more than five minutes. 

Zara has developed an infection on her face from Claire’s scratching. She is kept in for a few days more. She hated the fact that I had to spend all my time in the hospital next to her. 

She was kind enough to suggest that I resume my work. Now I only go to visit her once a day. That too at night, before I crash into Cole’s house for the night. 

I took a look at my watch. It was time to leave. Zara must be waiting. 

I signed all the papers and called Stacy over to hand them to her On my way out she reminded me, “Sir, Don’t forget to go to the doctor too, please.” 

I departed without responding to her. The ride to the hospital was full of guilt again as this was where I saw my wife last. I took the elevator to the floor I asked exclusively to be kept reserved for my wife when she was admitted here. 

It’s crazy because when I found she was in the hospital because of me, I wanted to make it up to her by getting the best treatment for her. That’s why I hired a whole floor for her privacy. 

And then Zara’s incident happened. I couldn’t think of anywhere else other than the same floor for her safety. That way she would have to see very less people and hospital staff, giving her time to heal and come out of trauma. 

I stalled in my tracks. Turning around, I cast a longing look at the ward I last saw my wife in. 

My chest convulsed and breathing fractured. My mind was a mess too. 

I don’t understand why I keep referring to Claire as my wife? Why now? Why after she decided to leave that in my heart and thoughts I’m calling her my wife? 

Why am I not happy with the fact that she’s finally leaving me? 

“Hunter,” I was torn off my conflicting thoughts and lifted my head. 

Zara was standing some steps away from me. She looked healthy. If it wasn’t for the scratches on her cheeks–Which occurred like a strike of a wolf’s claw to the eyes- she seemed perfectly fine to me, 

“You miss her, don’t you?” My mouth hung open in daze. 

“Why would you think that?” I walked over to her slowly. 

“It’s written all over your face, Hunter. Your body language is different. It’s… It’s conquered by defeat as if you lost a battle. You can lie to the world but me. Don’t forget we used to love each other unconditionally and at some point we were aware of each other’s body language and what it meant like the back of our hands. Zara’s lips upturned faintly. 

“You’re missing her, Hunter. You are missing your wife. 

-3 pressed my hp together and lowered my 

truth. 

I miss her. 

the floor. There’s no point in lying to her when I know she’s telling the 

I miss my wife that I didn’t want. I miss my wife that I wanted gone. I miss seeing her smile, seeing her blink her big eyes at me. I miss her. 

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But the point is why! 

The… 

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