The Post-Nup, His Fall, My Rise

a P

eiling of our bedroom, the one Jonathan had painstakingly designed. Every gilding, every fresco, now felt like a gilded cage. M

nathan' s voice, too soft, too intimate. It was a sound that had once soothed me, bu

ajamas, my movements stiff and deliberate. My reflection in the mirror showed a stranger – pa

rer. Jonathan' s low rumble, Kesha' s soft, melodic tones, punctuated by her delicate laughte

of coffee. Kesha was perched on the armrest, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Her eyes, wide and innocent, met mi

n?" My voice was a low growl, ba

stood, his expression a mixture of irritation and something

Mrs. Collins, I' m so, so sorry. I know I shouldn' t be here. I just... I couldn' t sleep, thinking about what happen

ips. "You apology is being here? In my home? After you spent half the nigh

r eyes were wide, filled with genuine

ooked at me, a flicker of fear in hi

d, my voice shaking with suppressed r

stepping towards me, his hand outs

morless sound. "You want me to calm down?

to Jonathan, clinging to his arm. "Jo

laced a comforting hand over hers. "Kesha, maybe i

ut... I don' t want to leave you alone with

of her words. She was not just here; she was staking her claim. She was manip

u manipulative little bitch!" My hand connected with her chee

ulling her hair, a storm of fury consuming me. I heard Jonat

oing?!" he roared, his voice f

ng with pure, unadulterated rage. "She des

. A violent, deliberate shove. My feet slipped on the polished marble. I fell backward, a sickeni

hite light. A searing

and antiseptic smells. I was in a hospital bed. My head throbbed, a d

ushed voi

ou know how Anya gets." It was Jona

of yours, what was her name? Kesha? She' s the one who fainted!" Helen Gross.

er me. A nurse rushed over. "Ms. Collins, please

Jonathan?" I whis

ering anger. She squeezed my hand, her grip surprisingly warm. "He' s... tending to his little

ed from the hallway. A shril

allowed a whole bottle!" A woman'

theatrics never end with that one." She squeezed my

' t even look at me. His eyes were wild, searching for his mother.

re going to run to her, aren' t you, Jonathan?

She' s fragile!" He rushed out of th

ed back to me, her usually impenetrable facade crac

e. Again. For her. The memory of his push, the crack of my head against the marb

in my heart. This was it. No m

repare the final divorce papers. And tell him... to make sure ever

prise, then a slow, approving nod. "Co