Divorce

Camila

Afonso — more than just a trusted lawyer — dropped me off in front of the house I'd lived in for the past four years.

I was coming from the hospital, where I'd spent the entire night alone. My best friend wanted to leave the city where she was filming a TV series — she had the lead role — just to come be with me, but I wouldn't let her. It wouldn't be fair to her.

I stood there, staring at everything, a hollow ache in my chest. I was never happy in this house. I did everything I could to make Sebastian see that I deserved to be his wife, that I was fulfilling my role. I took care of him, all of his needs — his clothes were impeccable, his shoes polished to a shine. When he left for work, he looked like a model. Flawless. Sebastian was so handsome.

As handsome as he was cruel. I'd never met a man so vicious. He seemed to enjoy watching me suffer.

When I was seventeen, my father died. He wasn't a good father — I always felt his contempt, probably because I was a girl, as if that made me useless. I tried so hard to be a good daughter, helping my mother with the housework. She was a good woman. She gave me affection, sewed clothes for me — even with simple fabrics, they were beautifully made. She taught me to sew. I love sewing, and it's the very thing that's helping me make the decision I need to make.

I'd made up my mind to leave. My lawyer had the divorce agreement ready. Everything was in order. All I needed was Sebastian's signature.

Yesterday we went to dinner at his mother's house. I hated those dinners. He forced me to go to every single one — I think because he enjoyed watching her and his siblings humiliate me. And to make it worse, she always invited the woman who tormented me, the one who wanted Sebastian for herself. According to them, Soraia Santos was the woman Sebastian was supposed to marry, and I had gotten in the way.

Only his father and grandfather disapproved of her. They said if he married "that adult film actress," as they called her, he'd be removed from running the family business.

At yesterday's dinner, I could feel the tension in the air. Edna stared at me with such contempt that I shrank into myself. Then his sister offered me a drink. I refused. I didn't trust her enough to eat or drink anything that passed through her hands.

Then Grandpa Manoel pulled me into a hug and led me to a private room.

"Come here, sweetheart. I'll have Mariza make you a nice drink."

"Thank you, Grandpa," I answered with a smile. God, I loved that man.

Mariza arrived with a beautiful glass filled with a shimmering drink.

"Mariza, this is delicious! You always outdo yourself!"

"You deserve it, honey. Made it just the way I know you like it," Mariza replied with a warm smile, and I thanked her with a squeeze of her hand.

"Now tell me, my dear — how's your life?" Grandpa Manoel asked once we were alone.

"I'm fine, Grandpa. Nothing new," I said, keeping my smile steady.

"What are you two doing in here all by yourselves, away from everyone? I bet you're talking about people behind their backs!" Edna appeared out of nowhere.

"Don't judge others by your own standards, Edna. We're decent people in here," Grandpa shot back, leaving her red with fury.

"You're insulting me!" she snapped.

"You insulted us first."

At dinner, Edna set a plate in front of me and one in front of Sebastian.

The moment I started eating, something was wrong. My throat burned, and it felt like my airway was closing. Sebastian was deep in conversation with Soraia.

"Sebastian," I called. He ignored me.

I called again. He turned around and glared.

"What do you want, Camila?"

"I'm not feeling well. I can't breathe."

"Don't be so dramatic! It's always something with you — always trying to get attention!"

My eyes filled with tears, but I refused to cry in front of these people. I took a sip of water and stood up.

"Are you all right, dear?" Grandpa Manoel asked.

I couldn't answer. I walked toward the exit of the mansion and called the driver.

"Lucas, please take me to the hospital. I'm feeling really sick."

Lucas ran to get the car.

"Ma'am, where is Mr. Sebastian?" he asked, not meaning any harm. I was on the verge of tears.

"He's staying. Just take me to the hospital and come back for him."

He agreed. We left, and I got worse on the way. He didn't know whether to focus on the road or on me. When we reached the hospital, he carried me to the reception desk.

"Please, she needs a doctor — she's—" I cut him off before he could say I was Sebastian's wife.

I filled out the form with my maiden name, and a nurse took me to a doctor's office.

They ordered a battery of tests and moved me to a room. When I told them I'd been eating when I fell ill, they rushed me in for a stomach pump — but not before collecting samples to figure out what I'd ingested.

The doctor came back later and told me I'd been poisoned with a toxic substance. If I'd eaten more, I could have been dead. I called Afonso to come to the hospital.

"Afonso, I need you to get the full medical report from the doctor — every detail about what I ingested. I also need the security footage from every camera in my in-laws' house. Every single one. And Afonso, I need that divorce agreement I asked you to prepare. It's time to set myself free."

"Thank God! Girl, I thought you'd never ask me for that."

"The time has come, Afonso. There's no reason to stay in this situation. They've put my life at risk — it could've been an attempt to kill me, or it could be a warning that they won't stop."

After that, I called my best friend and told her everything.

When I felt better, I slept. The next morning, I called Sebastian.

"What is it, Camila? What do you want?"

I realized he hadn't come home last night. I couldn't believe he'd left his parents' house with that woman and spent the night with her — after I'd left feeling sick.

"I'm—" He cut me off, cold as ice.

"I'm with my friends. See you at home."

I hung up and got dressed. When I got to the house, he still wasn't there. I packed a few things — only what I'd take with me. Some clothes I'd made myself, the pathetic little pieces of jewelry he'd given me. I left it all on the dresser. I packed a small suitcase and left it in the room next to ours.

I went downstairs, and an hour later he walked in, still wearing last night's clothes. He stopped and looked at me. I realized I hadn't changed either — same outfit from yesterday, having showered at the hospital and put on the only clothes I had.

"Why are you wearing the same clothes as last night?"

"Thank you so much for being such a warm, caring person," I said, the sarcasm dripping. "To answer your question — I slept at the hospital. After being poisoned at your mother's house."

"I could sue you for slander. You can't make up things like that about good people."

"Don't make me laugh! The only good people in that house are your grandfather Manoel and your father Osvaldo. But that's beside the point. Here's the divorce agreement. Sign it and hand it to my lawyer, Afonso."

"Seriously, Camila? Divorce? Who do you think you're fooling?"

I stared at his contemptuous face. I said nothing. Sebastian walked over to where I stood, towering over me. I looked away. He knew I loved him, and he used it against me. He grabbed me and kissed me. At first I thought about pushing him away, but I changed my mind. I gave in willingly. For the first time, I was going to use his body the way he'd always used mine. I stripped off all his clothes and explored every inch of his sculpted frame, kissing his mouth and every part of him. We gave ourselves over to pleasure for hours. Sebastian had never cared about giving me pleasure — he'd used my body as punishment. But today was our last time, so I surrendered completely. Three hours later, he got up and headed for the shower. I watched him go.

Then I went to the other bedroom, showered, grabbed my suitcase, went downstairs, and placed my wedding ring on top of the divorce papers on the table. I walked to the front gate and asked Lucas to take me to Leticia's house.

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