I didn’t understand why he was so angry. Divorce should’ve suited him just fine.
I yanked my arm free. “Wasn’t it you who decided what we had wasn’t worth saving? You’re the one who called me cheap.”
“Eve, 1…” Magnus froze. “That’s not what I meant. Let me explain-”
I ignored him, crouched down and lifted my suitcase.
Seeing that I wasn’t stopping, he lashed out again. “If you walk out that door tonight, Evelyn, don’t come back. This won’t be your home anymore. You leave now and you have no home left.”
He knew exactly how cruel those words were–and still chose to say them.
I gave a bitter smile and nodded slowly. “Fine. As long as Mr. Finck stands by his word.”
With that, I wheeled my suitcase out without looking back.
The bedroom door slammed behind me, followed by the sound of Magnus’s furious voice yelling, “Get out!”
As I passed the entryway, I could hear the housekeepers whispering behind half–closed doors.
“I heard she was kicked out.”
“I always said she used low tricks to get into that bed. Now it’s coming back to bite her…” “Shh! Keep your voice down. She might hear you-”
I paused at the front door and looked back at the house where I’d lived for over a decade. The porch, wrapped in blooming wisteria, still held the memory of a night Magnus cradled my feverish body, waiting under that very archway for the ambulance.
The grand piano in the corner, now layered in dust–he once guided my hands across those keys, teaching me to play.
Those moments used to feel warm. Now, they were nothing more than faded photographs. The taxi hummed down the dark streets while I scrolled through rental listings on my phone.
In the end, I went back to Sven’s apartment.
The moment I opened the door, warm yellow light spilled out, wrapping me in the smell of home–cooked food.
Sven peeked his head out from the kitchen, wearing a navy apron, a smile tugging at the corners of his eyes.
“You’re back. Wanna try my cooking?”
The tomato beef stew simmered in the ceramic bowl, bubbling gently.
Out of nowhere, a memory surfaced. That time I saw a crumpled heart–shaped lunchbox tossed in the trash at Magnus’s office.
1/2 22.7%
It had been mine. I’d woken up at five in the morning to make that meal–porridge slow–cooked to the perfect texture, sushi rolls wrapped with care.
Now, the warmth on my tongue stung even more than the bitterness of that memory.
“How is it?” Sven asked, resting his chin in his hand. His lashes cast long shadows beneath his eyes.
I had just swallowed a mouthful of broth when the loud pounding on the door shattered the quiet.
“Evelyn! Open up!” It was Magnus, barely holding back rage.
Sven heard him too. He untied his apron and moved toward the door. Panic shot through me and I stood quickly, grabbing his arm.
Sven didn’t budge. A cold smile played on his lips.
“What are you afraid of? Sooner or later, this was going to happen.”
With that, he walked over and opened the door.
The moment Magnus saw Sven, his expression twisted. His eyes swept over the room, landing on the still–steaming food at the table. His face darkened in an instant, storm clouds gathering behind his eyes.
Magnus grabbed my wrist, hard. His grip was punishing. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his sleeve slipped–revealing a bandage on his forearm.
I remembered it. He’d gotten that injury in a fight defending Seraphina.
“What the hell is going on between you two?!” His words hit me like hot wind, reeking of alcohol.
Sven stepped forward slowly, his voice, calm. “What does it look like? I’m taking care of someone who deserves it.”
Before Sven could finish the sentence, Magnus’s fist landed into his cheek. The next second, they were locked in a full–on brawl.
“She’s my wife! You betrayed me! I treated you like my damn brother–and this is what I get?! Both of you?!”
Sven didn’t hold back. He swung back hard, landing a punch right on Magnus’s face.
13:23 Mon, 26 May DMT
