5. I had never mattered
Sophia's Pov:
The moment the words left my mouth, Adrian’s expression changed.
His eyes locked onto mine, cold and sharp.
For one second, the room was completely silent.
Then he started walking toward me.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
There was anger in every step.
Instinctively, I stepped backward.
My heart began pounding so hard it felt painful.
He kept moving forward, and I kept stepping back until the back of my knees hit the bed.
I stumbled and fell onto the edge of the mattress.
Before I could move, Adrian was already there.
He leaned over me, placing both hands on the bed at either side of me, trapping me between his arms.
His face was only inches away from mine.
Too close.
Too overwhelming.
His presence was suffocating.
I could feel my courage slipping away under the weight of his stare.
Then, in a mocking voice, he said,
“You want a divorce, wife?”
The way he said wife made it sound like a joke.
My throat tightened.
I knew this side of Adrian.
He knew exactly how to intimidate me without even raising his voice.
I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat.
“Why?” he asked, his tone sharp.
I swallowed hard.
My hands trembled in my lap.
My voice came out much quieter than before.
“Because...” I whispered.
His eyes stayed fixed on me.
I forced myself to continue.
“Because in this marriage, I am nothing.”
My voice shook, but I kept speaking.
“I am just something you keep around because you have to. A responsibility. A toy.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“You treat me as if I don’t have feelings.”
The words broke something inside me.
A sob escaped before I could stop it.
And then the tears came.
I tried to hold them back.
I really tried.
But years of pain spilled out all at once.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I cried. “I can’t keep watching my husband belong to another woman.”
My body trembled as the sobs came harder.
Adrian stayed where he was, still leaning over me.
For a moment, I thought I saw something shift in his expression.
His eyes softened.
Just slightly.
But it vanished almost immediately.
He stared at me and said coldly,
“But we were never a couple.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
Because they were true.
At least, true for him.
Maybe I had been foolish.
When I married him, I had convinced myself that things would change.
I had thought that once Lily was born, we would learn to become a family.
That for our daughter’s sake, we would become husband and wife in more than just name.
But none of that happened.
I had built dreams on a marriage that had never been real.
And now even Lily was slipping away from me.
My tears wouldn’t stop.
I looked up at him through blurred vision.
“If we were never a real couple,” I said in a broken voice, “then let’s stop pretending.”
I took a shaky breath.
“Divorce me, Adrian.”
For a second, he said nothing.
Then his phone rang.
The sound shattered the moment.
Adrian straightened immediately and took the phone from his pocket.
He glanced at the screen, then answered.
“Yes?”
I sat frozen on the bed, tears running down my face while he listened.
“Alright,” he said after a moment. “I’m coming.”
He ended the call, slipped the phone back into his pocket, and without looking at me, turned toward the door.
“Adrian...” I whispered.
But he didn’t stop.
He walked out of the room as though nothing had happened.
As though I had not just broken apart in front of him.
As though my pain meant nothing.
The door closed behind him.
And I was alone.
The silence in the room felt unbearable.
I stared at the closed door for one second—
then I broke.
The sobs came violently, uncontrollably.
I covered my mouth with my hand, but it did nothing to stop the sound of my crying.
I cried until my chest hurt.
I cried until I could barely breathe.
Because even after I had gathered the courage to ask for a divorce—
even after all my pain—
he still walked away as if I was nothing.
And in that moment, I realized something that shattered me more than all the rest.
I had never mattered to Adrian Whitmore.
Not even enough for him to stay.