Worship Him

1. Destiny

1

DESTINY

T he papers in front of me blur into an indistinct mass. My fingertips trace the edges of the documents, each one a nauseating reminder of the life I'm about to dismantle. The leather chair beneath me creaks as I shift, sounding out of place in the quiet office.

"Mrs. Ryder?" Barrett's voice cuts through my haze. "Destiny?"

I blink, refocusing on the man across the desk. "Sorry, I... I was just thinking."

Barrett leans forward, his elbows resting on the polished wood. "It's okay. This is a lot to process. But I want you to know, it will be alright. We'll make this as seamless and painless as possible."

A weak smile tugs at my lips. "Thank you, Barrett. I appreciate that."

He nods, then his expression turns serious. He adjusts his glasses. "However, I do need to inform you that this situation is going to be a bit more complicated than a typical divorce."

My stomach clenches. "What do you mean?"

"Well, given that you and Adam own property together, not to mention your closely intertwined business interests... it adds many layers of complexity to the proceedings."

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Our companies..."

"Yes," he confirms. "Your clothing line and Adam's tech company. The fact that you're both partners in each other's businesses will call for careful navigation. It’s going to take a lot of planning, many meetings, and most of all, time."

My mind races, thinking of the countless meetings, the late nights spent brainstorming, the shared dreams that led to our now-intertwined personal empires. How do you untangle a life so thoroughly and lovingly woven together?

"I understand," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... it's rather overwhelming."

Barrett's eyes soften. "I know. But that's why I'm here. We'll take it step by step, okay?"

I nod, grateful for his reassurance. "Thank you. Really. I don't know how I'd navigate this without your help."

"That's why you came to me," he says with a gentle smile. "Now, let's start by going through these documents one by one. We'll break it down into manageable pieces."

As he begins explaining the first form, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the long road ahead.

The life I built with Adam may now have to come to an end, but perhaps this is the first step toward a new beginning.

A few hours later, I leave Barrett's office, my head spinning with legal jargon and the weight of impending change.

The click of my heels against the polished floor echoes through the hallway, a sound I once found comforting but now feels hollow.

As I step into the elevator, a couple joins me, their hands intertwined. The woman leans into her partner, giggling at something he whispers in her ear.

My chest tightens, and I avert my gaze, focusing on the descending numbers above the door. I suddenly wish I could forward time and be out of this tiny space at once.

Long moments later, I welcome the ding of the elevator doors that will let me escape from the lovey-dovey vibes and awful elevator music.

The parking lot greets me with its usual song of car alarms and distant traffic. I fumble with my keys, dropping them twice before managing to unlock my car. Once inside, I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.

"Get it together, Destiny," I mutter to myself, taking a deep breath before starting the engine. I glance at the rearview mirror. My eyes are shiny with tears held back, and I blink rapidly to regain control.

Not here.

The drive home is a blur of familiar streets and unfamiliar emotions. I park in front of my new apartment building, staring at its facade.

It's modern, sleek, beautiful—everything I thought I wanted. But right now, it feels more like a resplendent mausoleum than a home.

I drag myself up the stairs, every step heavier than the last. The key turns in the lock, and I step inside, greeted by the smell of fresh paint and new furniture.

My eyes scan the room, taking in the carefully curated decor that now feels like a stranger's attempt at comfort.

The silence is deafening.

No TV murmuring in the background, no clacking of Adam's keyboard as he works late into the night.

Just... emptiness.

I drop my purse on the pristine kitchen counter, my gaze landing on the framed photo I couldn't bring myself to pack away. Adam and I on our wedding day, his arms around me, both of us beaming at the camera.

He looked so handsome, and I was practically glowing with joy.

We were so happy, so in love. Why did it all go so wrong?

A sob catches in my throat, and I sink to the floor, my back against the cold kitchen cabinets.

The tears I've been holding back all day finally break free, cascading down my cheeks.

Here. Now. I will let it all out behind closed doors. I know it’s how I’ll heal, but there’s no way I’ll let anyone see me in such a sorrowful state.

I take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling, as if searching for help or perhaps, answers to questions I haven’t thought of yet.

The truth lies heavily on my shoulders, seeping into my soul.

This apartment, with its perfect feng shui and Instagram-worthy aesthetic, will never be home.

Home was the sound of Adam's laughter echoing through our house.

Home was the way he'd surprise me with breakfast in bed on Sunday mornings.

Home was the warmth of his strong arms around me after a long day.

But I couldn't stay there. Not with the memories of our fights, the growing silences, the realization that we were drifting apart despite our best efforts.

Our house had become a battleground, every room a reminder of what we were losing, the precious fragility of a once-wonderful relationship we couldn’t keep together.

The two of us were a power couple, the envy of our friend group. Even our competition couldn’t deny how awesome the two of us were together.

But that all went up in smoke, and I was unable to capture it, flailing to close my hands over something that I wanted with all my heart.

I pull my knees to my chest, hugging them tight as I let the grief wash over me. This is my reality now—an empty apartment and a heart full of broken dreams.

I drag myself off the kitchen floor, my legs stiff from sitting too long. The photo on the counter catches my eye again, and I can't help but pick it up.

My thumb traces Adam's face, remembering the electricity I felt when we first met.

"God, we were so in love," I whisper to the empty room and the memories in the chambers of my heart.

Our first encounter floods back into my mind, a small smile tugging at my lips. Me, a wide-eyed intern, fumbling with a stack of papers.

Him, the hot and confident CEO, catching them mid-air as they slipped from my grasp.

"Looks like you could use a hand," he'd said, his smile making my heart skip.

It was as if time stood still and the only two people in existence was me and him.

From that moment, we were inseparable.

Late nights at the office turned into secret dinner dates. Stolen glances across conference rooms became wild, passionate kisses in his car.

It was a rose petal-filled whirlwind, intoxicating and all-consuming.

I set the photo down, my chest tight. "How did we go from that to... this?"

The answer echoes in my mind—slowly, then all at once.

The long hours at work, the missed dinners, the growing silences. The scandal at Adam’s company, the irate investors… We became strangers living in the same house, our dreams diverging instead of aligning.

"No," I say firmly, shaking my head. "I can't keep doing this to myself."

I need to focus on my future, not fixate on my past.

I grab my laptop from my bag, powering it on. If I can't fix my marriage, I can at least throw myself into my work.

My clothing line needs me, and frankly, I need it too.

As I open my business emails, a new message from my assistant pops up.

"Hey boss, just a reminder about the meeting with potential investors tomorrow. 9 AM sharp. You've got this!"

I smile, grateful for the distraction. "Thanks, Mia," I type back. "I'll be there. Can you send over the latest sales reports?"

Work. That's what I need to focus on. It's always been my safe haven, my place to shine. And now, more than ever, I need that anchor.

I dive into charts, spreadsheets, and design sketches, losing myself in the familiar rhythm of creativity and business.

Hours slip by unnoticed, and for a while, I forget about the divorce proceedings waiting to be handled, about the empty side of the bed I'll face tonight and every night for the foreseeable future.

As I finally close my laptop, exhaustion settling in, I realize something. I may have lost the love of my life, but I haven't lost myself.

My company, my designs—they're still here.

They're still mine.

"One day at a time," I mutter, heading to bed. "Just one day at a time."