Before It's Too Late
The office was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.
Adrian sat hunched over his desk, his hand moving absently over the papers in front of him.
He had been doing this for the past hour, mindlessly practicing his signature over and over.
Each time, the pen felt heavier in his hand, as though the weight of his regrets was seeping into the ink, marking the page with each stroke.
He could almost hear Celeste's voice from earlier that morning, still clear in his mind.
"Meet me tomorrow at the Civil Affairs Bureau. We'll file for our divorce."
The words felt like a death sentence to his heart. His chest tightened, and his breath hitched every time he thought about it. Celeste had made her decision, and there was nothing he could do to change it.
He had tried to convince himself that it was fine—that he could handle it.
But the reality of it was sinking in deeper now.
He couldn't escape the fact that Celeste had already moved on.
She had been ready to let go for so long, and now, it seemed, he was the last to know.
The thought of her out there living her life, free from him, was a bitter pill to swallow.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face as he stared at the papers once again. The divorce papers. He was about to sign them. Tomorrow, he reminded himself. Tomorrow, it would be official.
The sound of the door opening made him sit up abruptly. He glanced up to see his mother, Margaret Sinclair, stepping into the room with a large shopping bag in her hands.
"Adrian," she greeted, her voice warm but laced with an unmistakable air of concern.
"I just got back from my trip, and I brought back some gifts for you and Celeste.
" She walked over to the desk, placing the bag down, her eyes scanning the room before looking at him.
"Where's Celeste? I thought she'd be here. "
Adrian's throat tightened as he swallowed.
He hesitated before answering, not wanting to face his mother's inevitable reaction to the news.
But before he could say anything, Margaret's eyes darted to the chair across from him, expecting Celeste to be there.
When she saw the empty seat, her brows furrowed.
"Adrian?" Margaret asked again, her voice tinged with confusion. "Where is she?"
Adrian set the pen down slowly, his hand resting on the cold surface of the desk. He looked up at his mother, his gaze distant, as if the weight of his words were too much for him to carry alone.
"She's not here," Adrian said softly, his voice flat. "Celeste... she insisted on the divorce. We're going to the Civil Affairs Bureau tomorrow to file it together."
Margaret's eyes widened, her surprise evident. "Wait, what? An you just let that happen?"
Adrian nodded, though the ache in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. "It's what she wants," he said, trying to sound indifferent, but failing miserably. "I've accepted it."
Margaret crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "And you're okay with this?" she asked, her voice rising with disbelief. "You're really okay with letting her walk away like this? After everything?"
Adrian stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "How can I be? She's made up her mind. What am I supposed to do? Beg her to stay? It's over."
Margaret shook her head, her frustration clear. "That's why I always tell you not to be so cocky—too confident with your handsome face. You think that's enough to keep someone? That you can just coast by, and people will always stay? Well, Celeste wasn't going to wait forever."
Adrian winced at the sting in his mother's words but couldn't deny the truth in them. He had been careless, had taken her love for granted, and now, it seemed like it was too late to change anything.
"Well, how was I supposed to know she was unhappy? She never said anything," he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "I didn't even know she was this unhappy."
Margaret's voice softened, but it was firm. "You never saw the signs, did you? You never saw how she was slowly fading away. I always told you, Adrian, that once Celeste got fed up—once she was tired of waiting for you to wake up—it would be too late. And now look where we are."
Adrian stood frozen, feeling his resolve crumble with each word his mother spoke. She was right. He had been blind, had kept thinking everything would stay the same. That Celeste would always be there, waiting for him to come around.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Adrian said quietly. "I didn't know what to do."
Margaret's eyes softened, but there was still a hint of fire in them.
She took a step closer to him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"If you truly want to save your marriage, you have to fight for it, Adrian.
It's never too late until the divorce has been finalized.
You still have time. But if you're going to let her go without a fight, then don't come crying to me afterward. "
Adrian's heart hammered in his chest, his mother's words igniting a spark within him. He had been so lost in his own guilt and confusion, but now, something inside of him shifted. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe there was still a chance to turn things around.
"I'll fix this." Adrian said, his voice steadier now. He looked at his mother, determination beginning to settle in. "I won't let her go without a fight."
Margaret gave him a small, approving nod. "Good. Then go. Don't waste any more time."
Adrian turned to leave, his heart pounding with renewed hope. He couldn't lose her. Not like this. He had one last chance.
______________
Adrian arrived home, his mind racing with everything his mother had said. He was ready to confront Celeste, to do whatever it took to make her see that he wasn't going to let her go without a fight.
But when he stepped inside the house, a cold emptiness greeted him. The lights were off, and the silence felt suffocating.
His gaze scanned the room, confusion sweeping over him. Celeste's shoes were gone. Her coat was missing from the hook. Her personal belongings—everything—was gone.
He felt his chest tighten, panic rising in him. No...
Adrian rushed to the bedroom, but it was the same. The bed was made, the closet was empty.
A note sat on the nightstand, hastily written.
"Civil Affairs Bureau tomorrow at 9 am."
The words knocked the breath out of him.
She's gone.