Scarlett OHara had hoped that by pretending ignorance, she could maintain the peace in her crumbling marriage. However, reality was merciless, and no matter how much she endured, the inevitable could not be avoided. She nearly tore her hair out in frustration, her mind replaying the words of the woman on the phone.
“Isabelle Swan,” the woman had introduced herself, “I am Edward Cullen’s secretary, and we’ve been together for a year. I truly don’t want to break up your family, but love happened, and we can’t control it. I think it’s time we met and talked.”
Scarlett had expected the other woman to berate her with harsh words, as depicted in television dramas. Yet, upon hearing Isabelle’s gentle and composed voice, she realized how mistaken she had been.
They had agreed to meet the next morning. Scarlett got up, looking at the hair she had torn out in her distress, and carefully disposed of it in the trash can. She was afraid to meet Isabelle, but she couldn’t avoid it.
Another sleepless night passed, and she woke up early, taking extra care to groom herself. Standing in front of the mirror, she examined her reflection. At just twenty-six years old, her eyes looked as worn and aged as those of a much older woman. She hadn’t truly looked at herself in the mirror for what felt like years.
The quaint café was bathed in a soft blue light as Scarlett walked in, scanning the room until her gaze settled on an elegant figure by the window. She had never met Isabelle Swan, but her intuition told her that was the woman she was looking for.
Isabelle was quietly sipping her coffee, gazing out the window, seemingly unaware of Scarlett’s presence for a long while. “I’m here!” Scarlett announced.
Isabelle turned to face her, her eyes briefly widening in surprise at the ordinary appearance of the housewife before her. “Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?” Isabelle asked, settling back into her chair and setting down her coffee.
“No, let’s get straight to the point. What do you want to say?” Scarlett’s hands were tightly clasped, resting on her lap.
“Since you’re in such a hurry, I’ll be blunt: divorce Edward,” Isabelle stated, her tone commanding.
Scarlett’s hands clenched, her lifeless eyes fixed on Isabelle. “You seem to forget that I am Edward’s wife, and you are but an interloper,” she retorted, questioning Isabelle’s audacity to demand such a thing.
“Edward says he doesn’t love you anymore. Your marriage is already a shell of its former self. Many women divorce and live well afterwards. Why cling to him so desperately?” Isabelle spoke indifferently.
It felt as if needles were piercing Scarlett’s heart. After a long while, she looked up. “It’s easy for you to say. We have a family and a child. How can I just let go? Isabelle, I beg you, leave Edward alone. My child and I cannot lose him.”
The night before, she had thought of countless scathing remarks to hurl at Isabelle, but now, speaking them, she felt no strength, only a plea of helplessness.
“I feel truly guilty seeing you like this, but some things are beyond our control,” Isabelle said.
Scarlett gripped her hands tightly, “Do you really feel guilty? If you did, you shouldn’t have interfered with our family.”
Isabelle’s phone rang, and she put it on speaker.
“Baby, I’ve booked the hotel. I’ll pick you up tonight, don’t forget,” Edward’s voice cooed with tenderness from the other end.
...
Scarlett didn’t know how she left the café. Her soul felt as if it had been torn out, slamming to the ground, utterly disgraced.