3rd pov
Outside the courthouse, a group of attorneys gathered for a break. Y/n's personal attorney, a well-dressed man with a serious expression, stood chatting with a couple of colleagues. They spoke in hushed tones, their conversation filled with curiosity.
"Y/n is filing for divorce," Y/n's attorney said, causing surprise among the group.
"Divorce? But they always seemed so happy. What happened?" one of the attorneys asked.
Y/n's attorney shrugged. "Y/n said her wife is a witch."
The group looked at each other, confused. "A witch?" they repeated, clearly puzzled.
"Yes," Y/n's attorney confirmed simply. The conversation paused, leaving the attorneys to ponder the unexpected news.
---
As Y/n entered the elevator, she sighed, hoping for a brief moment of solitude. But her relief was short-lived. Mikha walked in just as the doors were closing, her expression as tense as Y/n's.
Mikha turned to Y/n, her voice cold. "You're making things worse by talking about our issues. People are starting to notice, and it's damaging our reputation."
Y/n's eyes flashed with frustration. "I'm not the one spreading rumors. If anything, your actions have made it obvious that we're not in good terms."
Mikha's expression hardened. "Don't act like you're innocent. You've been vocal about our problems, and it's affecting everyone in the office."
Y/n took a deep breath, trying to control her anger. "Maybe if you were more concerned about fixing our problems rather than just covering them up, we wouldn't be in this mess."
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, but neither moved. Y/n looked at Mikha with determination. "We need to talk, Let's meet at The Skyline Lounge tonight."
Mikha's gaze softened slightly, acknowledging the need for a serious discussion. "Fine."
Mikha stepped out of the elevator, the weight of their argument pressing heavily on her shoulders. As the doors closed behind her, she glanced back and caught a fleeting glimpse of Y/n's expression. There was something in Y/n's eyes—frustration, determination, and a hint of sadness—that struck Mikha deeply.
---
Y/n's pov
I arrived at The Skyline Lounge an hour early, my nerves on edge as I waited for Mikha. The opulent surroundings did little to soothe my anxiety. The view of the city below was stunning, but I barely noticed it. My thoughts were consumed by the difficult conversation I was about to have.
I sat alone at our reserved table, trying to calm myself, but the ticking of the clock seemed to emphasize my growing impatience. I kept checking my watch, feeling each minute stretch longer. I was here to talk about the divorce, to confront the issues that had led us to this point.
The luxurious atmosphere of the lounge felt almost surreal compared to the seriousness of the discussion ahead. I was ready to tell Mikha that I wanted to proceed with the divorce, to finally address the reality that our marriage was beyond repair.
The more I waited, the more the weight of the conversation settled on me. I knew this wasn't going to be easy, but it was necessary. I needed to be honest about our relationship and make it clear that moving forward separately was the best option for both of us.
As I waited, I felt a mix of dread and resolve. I just hoped that when Mikha arrived, we could have the honest and direct conversation we needed to finally end this chapter and begin to move on.
I pulled out my phone and texted Mikha, hoping to get an update on her whereabouts. I typed out a simple message: *"I'm here at The Skyline Lounge. Where are you?"*
A few minutes passed with no response. I sent the same message again, and then again, my concern growing. *"Still waiting. Please let me know when you'll be here."*
I sent a fourth message, my patience wearing thin. *"It's been over an hour. I'm starting to get worried. Please respond."*
Finally, I sent a fifth message, my frustration evident. *"I've been waiting for a long time. I need to know if you're still coming."*
Each time I hit send, I hoped for a reply that would explain her delay. But as the minutes ticked by, my worry and frustration only grew.
After sending the fifth message with no response, I finally gave up waiting. The frustration and disappointment from the long wait were overwhelming. I decided to head home, feeling a deep sense of resignation.
Once inside the house, I walked through the quiet rooms, feeling the weight of the unresolved conversation. I made my way to the room that had become my own since the separation—our daughter's old room. Mikha had removed all the furniture and decorations that once belonged to our baby,
leaving the space stark and empty, save for the bed and a few bookshelves.
I sat down at the computer desk in the corner, where I'd been managing the practical aspects of our separation. Turning on the computer, I accessed the files and printed out the divorce papers. As the pages emerged from the printer, I felt a profound sense of finality and sadness.
I picked up the documents and glanced around the room. The bed and the bookshelves now seemed to define this space as my own. The emptiness of the room echoed the void I felt inside. The papers in my hands were more than just legal documents; they symbolized the end of a chapter in my life that had once been filled with hope and dreams.
As I sat by the computer desk, holding the freshly printed divorce papers, my phone buzzed with a new message. I picked it up, hoping it might be from Mikha. The message was brief, just two words:
"Family meeting."
I felt a pang of sadness. It always seemed like Mikha prioritized her family over everything else, including me. I understood that family matters were important, but it often felt like I was an afterthought. It wasn't something I frequently complained about, but it didn't make the reality any less painful or unfair.
Sighing, I stood up and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I needed to be presentable for the meeting—after all, as Mikha's spouse, I was part of the Lim family now. I quickly adjusted my outfit, choosing something formal yet understated, ensuring I would make a good impression. I knew I couldn't afford to be late, especially with the tense atmosphere that seemed to follow us everywhere.
With one last glance at the empty room and the divorce papers on the desk, I left, hoping the meeting would bring some clarity to our complicated lives.
3rd pov
Y/n arrived at the Lim family mansion, slightly late for the meeting. The atmosphere was tense as she walked into the grand dining room, where Mikha sat at the head of the table, her demeanor cold and distant. Matteo, Mikha's brother, and his wife, Aiah, were also present. Matteo's usual smirk grew as he saw Y/n, while Aiah offered a warm, reassuring smile.
As Y/n settled in, Mikha's mother immediately addressed the issue. "Why you're late?"
"Mom, I texted Y/n late. I wasn't sure she'd make it on time," Mikha said, her voice edged with frustration.
Mikha's mother, clearly irritated, responded, "Mikha, Y/n should be aware that family meetings are every weekend. She needs to be punctual and respect our schedule."
Matteo, barely hiding his amusement, leaned back in his chair, making a snide comment. "Well, it looks like Y/n's still getting used to family life. Maybe she needs a little more time to adjust."
Aiah, sensing the discomfort, gently placed a hand on Matteo's arm, trying to diffuse the tension. "Let's focus on the meeting," she suggested with a kind smile.
Mikha's grandpa, a figure known for his wisdom and fairness, interjected with a firm tone. "Bianca, it's not fair to put the blame on Y/n. She's part of this family now, and we should be making her feel welcomed, not alienated."
Bianca sighed, looking chastened but not fully mollified. The family meeting continued with a palpable tension, each member navigating their roles in the complex family dynamics.
As the meeting continued, the atmosphere remained tense. The discussion was interrupted when Mikha's grandpa's secretary, a poised woman with an air of authority, stepped into the room carrying a stack of papers.
"Excuse me Mr Sebastian" she said, her voice cutting through the murmur of conversation. "I have an important update regarding Y/n and Mikha's relationship reputation."
Sebastian motioned for her to proceed. The room fell silent, the family's curiosity piqued. The secretary began, "Recent media reports and public perception have raised concerns about Y/n and Mikha's relationship. The press has been highlighting the tension between them, which is affecting the family's image and business interests."
Sebastian eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Perhaps the best way to resolve this issue and shift the focus is to have a baby. It will address the rumors and present a united front."
Bianca immediately turned to Y/n with a sharp tone. "We're also planning to send you abroad for further studies. It will keep you out of the public eye and allow us to manage the situation better."
Y/n looked stunned. "Ms Bianca I already told you- " Y/n got interupted by her
Bianca expression hardened. "You don't have a choice in this matter. It's for the good of the family and our reputation. You'll do as we say."
Before Y/n could respond further, Sebastian intervened, his voice stern. "This isn't the way to handle things. We shouldn't be forcing Y/n into something she doesn't want. "
Bianca sigh and roll her eyes internally As the discussion continued, Matteo, with a smirk, leaned back in his chair and addressed Y/n. "You know, maybe if you spent less time causing trouble and more time thinking about how to fit in, this wouldn't be an issue. It's not that hard to play along."
As Matteo made his comment, Y/n's anger flared up, but before she could respond, Mikha's frustration reached its peak. She slammed her tea cup onto the table with a loud crash, tea spilling everywhere. Mikha's eyes were locked on Matteo, sending him a chilling, silent warning.
Matteo's smirk disappeared, and he looked genuinely scared. He immediately fell silent, shrinking back in his seat. The room grew tense, with everyone feeling the weight of Mikha's intense glare and the awkward silence that followed.
Mikha's eyes, still sharp with anger, slowly softened as she looked at her grandfather. "I agree with your idea about having a baby," she said, her voice steady. "But if this is how you and the rest of the family are going to treat Y/n, then we're leaving."
She glanced around the room, her frustration evident. "I'm not staying where my wife is disrespected and mistreated."
Without waiting for a response, Mikha took Y/n's hand and began to walk towards the door. The family, caught off guard by her declaration, fell into an uneasy silence. The weight of Mikha's decision hung heavily in the air as they left.
As Mikha and Y/n were about to leave, Mikha realized she'd forgotten her purse. "Wait here for me," she told Y/n, then turned back towards the main hall.
Y/n waited near the door, her anxiety growing. Mikha, returning to the main hall, overheard her brother talking "that fucking bitch Y/n did it again dude, yeah I know she's just a slave to the family anwyays.." The harsh words cut through her, and her anger flared
Without hesitation, Mikha stormed over to Matteo and smack his head "How dare you speak about my wife like that!" she said, her voice with rage.
Before Matteo could react, Mikha kicked his bulge hard , her move quick and deliberate. Matteo doubled over in pain, struggling to catch his breath, his face twisted in agony. Mikha's eyes burned with anger as she stood over him, her voice cold and threatening. "If I ever hear you talk about my wife like that again," she said, her tone deadly serious, "I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life."
Mikha's glare was intense, showing she meant every word. Matteo, shocked and visibly shaken, backed away quickly, his hands trembling as he held his injured side. The confidence he had moments before was gone, replaced by fear as he avoided her fierce, unwavering stare, desperate to get away from her.