The Missing Signature
It had been weeks since the last time Celeste and Adrian spoke.
Celeste had shut every door—literally and figuratively. She had blocked Adrian from every possible channel, ignored his knocks, and turned off the lights in her apartment when he came. As far as she was concerned, Adrian Sinclair no longer existed.
Until the call came.
Celeste's phone rang that morning, and when she picked it up, it was a representative from the Civil Affairs Bureau.
"Miss Lancaster," the voice said, "we're calling regarding your divorce petition with Mr. Adrian Sinclair. The thirty-day cooling-off period is almost over, but unfortunately, the petition will be canceled."
Celeste blinked. "What do you mean canceled?"
"There's a missing signature on the document. Mr. Sinclair didn't sign. Without both parties' signatures, the divorce can't proceed."
Her heart thundered in her chest.
"What?" she said, stunned. "That's impossible. He signed. I saw his name on the form."
"Yes, his full name is written, but the signature field is blank. I'm afraid that's not valid, Miss Lancaster."
Celeste didn't even end the call properly. She grabbed her keys and drove like a madwoman to the bureau. Her heart refused to settle as she approached the reception desk. The clerk handed her a copy of the form.
And there it was—his name written neatly in the "Full Name" box.
But no signature.
No proof that he had ever let her go.
Fury. Betrayal. Confusion. It all built up inside her as she stormed out of the building and headed straight to Adrian's office tower, not giving herself a moment to think. She was shaking when she entered the lobby.
Adrian's new secretary, a young man in a crisp navy-blue suit, stood up when he saw her. "Excuse me, Miss, do you have an appointment?"
"I don't need an appointment," she snapped. "I'm here to see Adrian Sinclair."
"I'm sorry, but—"
"Let her in." Adrian's voice echoed down the hall. The secretary turned, startled.
"She's my wife."
The secretary—Miles—visibly flinched, eyes wide. "Oh—my apologies, ma'am. Please... go ahead."
Celeste pushed past him and entered Adrian's office, her eyes ablaze. She slammed the divorce papers onto his desk.
"You didn't sign," she said coldly. "They called me. I saw it with my own eyes."
Adrian stood still behind his desk, his shoulders tense.
"You lied to me," she seethed. "You lied, Adrian. You wrote your name, and I thought it was done. I trusted you enough not to even look at the papers after—I thought you had the decency to respect what we agreed on. But no. You were lying to me all along."
Adrian swallowed hard. "Celeste—"
"Don't." Her voice cracked. "Don't you dare. You looked me in the eye and told me it was done. You smiled. You moved on with your life while stringing me along, hoping I wouldn't notice. Do you think I'm a joke?"
"No!" Adrian finally stepped forward, desperation in his eyes.
"I didn't mean to lie to you. I just—Celeste, I've signed thousands of contracts in my life.
Business deals worth millions.
I thought this would be the same. But when I picked up that pen, my hand. .. it froze."
Celeste stared at him, unblinking. "So you chickened out."
"I couldn't do it," he admitted, guilt pouring from him. "I practiced. I swear I did. I wrote my name, prepared myself. But when it came to signing away our marriage, it felt like I was ripping out my own heart. I just couldn't."
Celeste's voice dropped into a whisper, but it was sharp as a knife. "So you were lying to me while smiling at me. You met me, let me think it was over, while all along, you had another plan."
"I thought... maybe if I waited, you'd change your mind," Adrian said. "As long as the papers weren't final, there was still a chance. I was wrong to lie, but I couldn't give up. Not on you. Not on us."
"You don't get to make that decision for me," she said, trembling now, her arms wrapped around herself. "You think I didn't hurt? You think it was easy for me to walk away? But I did. I was ready to let go. And you... you just watched me grieve something I thought was already over."
Adrian stepped toward her, voice low, pained. "Call me anything. Scold me. Hit me. But I can't sign those papers, Celeste. I'll do everything else you ask—but not that. I can't lose you."
"You already did," she whispered.
He stared at her like the words physically wounded him.
She picked up the divorce papers again and shoved them against his chest.
"Sign it," she said, her voice cracking. "Sign it and get out of my life for good."
For a long moment, Adrian didn't move. His jaw clenched. His eyes glistened.
But he didn't argue this time.
He looked at her, at the woman he had always loved but had pushed away with silence, misunderstandings, and fear.
And then he took a step back.
Celeste turned, tears streaking down her face, and walked out of the room without another word.
As the door closed behind her, the silence that followed was unbearable.
And Adrian, left standing in the middle of his office, clutched the papers in his hand, his knuckles white.
This time, he was truly alone.