39. Alexis
Alexis
There’s a spring in my step as I approach the front door. Lately, coming home from work has been my favorite part of the day. That’s saying something, considering how much I’ve been enjoying work since I started Fashion For All.
When I lived alone, there wasn’t much difference between being at work and being at home.
In the former location, I felt ignored, secondary to everything that was happening.
In the latter, I was completely alone, unless my mother called to chastise me about something.
Now, there’s joy everywhere I turn. Work is different.
I feel alive there, needed. And when I get home, I find my family waiting for me.
Today, though, the facade is quiet as I enter the house. I frown, confused. Since Peyton got her kitten, she’s chattered non-stop, carrying Pepper all around the house or running up and down the stairs with a string toy.
But Pepper is nowhere to be seen. She must be sleeping somewhere. On the bed, most likely. Gabriel is her favorite person in the world. He has to remove her from his pillow almost every night.
“Hello?” I call out. “Peyton? Gabriel?”
A beat of quiet, then Gabriel’s voice answers from the kitchen, low and distant. “In here.”
Something in his tone makes my stomach twist.
Gabriel is sitting at the counter, hunched forward, his broad shoulders caved inward like the very air is pressing him down.
One hand props up his head, his jaw tight, his expression drawn and strained.
His eyes, usually so sharp and steady, are dark and shuttered now, fixed on the stone countertop like he can’t bear to look anywhere else.
Something’s not right.
“Where’s Peyton?” I ask, trying to keep the note of alarm out of my voice. My mind flashes through worst-case scenarios. Was there an accident? Did something happen at school?
Gabriel’s answer is flat, devoid of the usual warmth. “Margaret took her to the park.”
I exhale, some of the panic ebbing away, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder. Dread. Whatever’s wrong, it isn’t about Peyton. It’s something else.
“What’s going on?” I step closer to him.
His jaw flexes, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
His gaze flickers to me for the briefest second before dropping back to the countertop like it burns to meet my eyes.
“My mother raised me to protect the people I love,” he says quietly.
“That’s what I’ve always done, and it’s what I’ll always do. No matter what it takes.”
“Gabriel,” I say, my heart in my throat. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
For a long moment, he doesn’t move. His fingers flex against the counter. Then he drags in a breath and turns his head, and when his eyes finally meet mine, something inside me shatters.
Because I see it there, plain as day. The walls going up. The distance slamming into place. And I know, before he even says the words, that whatever he’s about to tell me will break me.
“I… I want a divorce.”
Stunned, I reach out blindly, my hand catching the wall to keep myself upright because it feels like the floor just dropped out from under me. “You… what?”
He swallows, as though the words are stuck in his throat. “We need to get divorced.”
“Are you serious?” I stare at him in disbelief. “But… why? Where did this come from? I…” I trail off, unable to reconcile this with everything we’ve been through. Nothing makes sense. Everything seemed fine. Better than fine. Perfect. So why? Why now? Why is he tearing it all apart?
He breathes in deeply, and as he does, I feel the distance between us grow. “I thought I could do this,” he says. “I was wrong.”
“What happened? I—I thought—”
He shakes his head. “My mind is made up.”
There’s a sickening, hollow feeling in my chest, like a fracture has opened in my heart.
I always knew that he didn’t plan to stay married to me for longer than the required three years.
That was the nature of this arrangement, the reality I had prepared myself for since the start.
Three years of marriage into the Thorne family would boost the Beaumonts’ status, and as soon as Gabriel was free to break things off, he would.
That had always been the plan. I told myself I understood that.
I told myself I could handle it. But somewhere along the way—somewhere between quiet breakfasts together and the soft kisses he started pressing to my temple without thinking—I’d started to believe in something more. A future where this was permanent.
The deadline faded into the background. The arrangement felt real. I let myself dream like a fool.
Now, standing here with my heart cracking open like thin glass, I feel the weight of that foolishness settle on my chest until I can barely breathe.
“But… the w-will,” I say, struggling to maintain my coherence.
His lips thin, and he closes his eyes. I pray that when he opens them, he’ll take it back. That he’ll say this was a cruel joke, a mistake. That none of this is real. But when he returns his gaze to meet mine, there’s pained reluctance there. “That’s not your concern.”
“The company—your shares—”
“I told you, that’s my business, not yours.”
I feel as though he just kicked me in the gut. He wants to back out of our marriage before the three years have expired, before his father’s deadline has passed. That means he’ll essentially be forfeiting his inheritance.
The company. His connection to his father’s legacy, to his family’s business. He’d rather lose it all than stay married to me.
He must want nothing more than to get away from me. He’s willing to sacrifice almost everything, just to get me out of his life.
The realization hurts more than I can bear.
My chest constricts, my vision blurring.
I try to hold myself together, but the weight of it all is crushing me.
I take a trembling step toward him, driven by instinct, desperate to close the distance.
But Gabriel shifts back, retreating even as I move forward, keeping the space between us like a barrier I can’t cross.
I grip the back of one of the dining chairs for support. “Please,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing happened,” he says heavily. “It’s nothing you did.”
“Then why?” I rasp, tears slipping free now, no matter how hard I try to blink them back. “What changed? I thought we were—”
“This is just how it has to be,” he interrupts. He holds himself straight, his posture rigid.
“No. That… that can’t be it. There has to be something. Something I did. Something I said—”
“I’ve already set you up with a place to live. You won’t have to go back to your family when you leave here.”
But I will have to leave here, I think, my thoughts spiraling as I begin to panic. The idea of packing up my things, leaving the house that has become my home, threatens to send me over the edge of despair.
This house isn’t just a place. It’s become a symbol of everything I thought I could have. A life filled with warmth, with love, with family.
“I got you an apartment in the city,” he continues. “Close to your workshop. I’ll have your belongings brought over to your new place.”
There’s an extra layer to the hurt as I realize that despite everything, despite what he’s doing, he’s still taking care of me. Even as he ends things, he’s laying down a cushion to soften my landing. I don’t know whether to be grateful or furious, and ultimately, I can’t manage either emotion.
All I feel is numb. Stunned.
I turn away from him. I can feel his eyes resting on me. Waiting for me to do something, say something.
There’s only one thing I can do.
I leave the kitchen, my legs heavy and wooden as I drag myself up the stairs. In the bedroom, my things are scattered all over the place. My book on the nightstand, my moisturizer on the bathroom sink, my clothes in the hamper.
It’s impossible to fully untangle my life from Gabriel’s. I’m too enmeshed in this place, in him. I pick up the book from the nightstand and hold it for a moment, staring at the dog-eared page where I left off last night. I can’t even remember what I was reading.
I throw open a suitcase and pile clothes into it haphazardly, not bothering to fold anything. Every once in a while, as I pack, I glance over at the door, hoping to see Gabriel there. Hoping I’ll hear his footsteps as he races up the stairs, his voice as he begs me to stay.
He doesn’t. I’m alone.
I move on to the bathroom, grabbing my toiletries and shoving them into a small bag. Every item feels like a relic of a life that’s slipping through my fingers. The sight of my toothbrush next to his, the way our towels hang side by side.
No matter how many items I toss into the suitcase, the room doesn’t feel any emptier. It’s as if the space itself is refusing to let me go, clinging to the echoes of a life I desperately wanted to build here.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, numbness spreading through my limbs. My world feels like it’s crumbling.
It takes a long moment to compose myself enough to close the suitcase. Standing up, I take one last look around. The bedroom, once filled with warmth and hope, now feels cold and unfamiliar. My gaze lingers on the bed, and there’s a pang in my chest so painful that I have to tear my eyes away.
I descend the stairs slowly. Gabriel is waiting in the foyer. He looks me up and down, his lips pursed.
“That isn’t everything,” he notes.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I…”
“I’ll have the rest of your things sent over tomorrow.”
There’s a finality to the way he says it. It’s the same tone he uses to end a meeting, or hang up on a work call. My throat feels constricted, and I can’t force myself to speak.
For a moment, our eyes lock. His gaze is coolly impassive, betraying nothing, although I think there might be a glimmer of some deeper feeling in his eyes.
Tell me to stay, I beg silently. Go on. Tell me you changed your mind. Tell me this isn’t happening.
Just tell me to stay.
He looks at me for several seconds without speaking. Then he says, “I called a car for you. It’s waiting out front.”
And with that, my last shred of denial is ripped away. This isn’t a misunderstanding or a moment he’ll take back. He’s made up his mind.
I swallow hard, willing myself not to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
Without another word, I pull my suitcase toward the door. My steps feel robotic, like my body is moving on autopilot while my mind screams at me to stop, to turn around, to fight for us. But I can’t. Not when he’s already given up.
At the door, I pause and turn back. He’s still standing there, his hands clenched at his sides, his expression unreadable.
“Goodbye, Gabriel,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond.
I open the door and turn away from him, stepping out into the warm evening air. Only once the door has closed behind me do I let my tears fall.