Lyla Monroe (Nova Kingsley)
“I signed it.”
The voice behind me was quiet. Cold. Final.
I froze mid-stir at the kitchen counter, the spoon clinking against the mug in my hand. Slowly, I turned around.
Luca stood in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a thin white envelope.
He walked in, calm as ever, and dropped the envelope onto the counter between us. It landed with a soft thud, but it might as well have been a gunshot.
I looked down. The divorce papers.
Oh.
Oh, God.
I had forgotten all about them. Yesterday had changed everything. Yesterday—when he kissed and touched me like I mattered.
When I kissed him back like he was mine.
When the air crackled and our worlds blurred into something new, something dangerous, something real.
And I forgot.
I forgot I had given him an exit.
“What about yesterday?” I asked quietly, not trusting my voice.
He didn’t answer right away.
“Yesterday,” he repeated, leaning against the counter.
“Yeah. Yesterday.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “That kept me up all night, you know?”
I blinked, heart thudding in my chest. “It did?”
He looked up at me finally, and his eyes—usually sharp, unreadable—were guarded. Like he had built a wall overnight.
“You gave me divorce papers, Nova,” he said slowly. “Before all of that happened.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“You were already walking around with the idea,” he continued. “You’d already made up your mind. You were ready to leave. And that… that kiss? That moment? That was just a mistake, I guess.”
“No,” I whispered. “That’s not—”
He cut me off. “Don’t. You don’t have to explain. I get it.”
I stared at him, stunned. “What do you mean, it was a mistake?”
He pushed off the counter, arms crossed. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious. You planned to walk away. You made your choice, Nova. You wanted out. And I’m not gonna force someone to stay where they don’t want to be.”
“I didn’t plan to leave like that,” I said, feeling panic rise in my chest. “It was before… I didn’t know how I felt. I was confused. You made me feel confused.”
“You still are,” he said, voice flat. “And honestly? That’s fine. You can go back to California, be your own person again. The contract is done. There’s nothing holding you here anymore.”
My eyes burned. “You’re seriously just… letting me go?”
“I’m just doing what you asked for,” he added. “I’m letting you go.”
I didn’t realize it until it happened, but tears slipped down my cheeks. Quietly. Slowly. I didn’t even wipe them away.
“Is that really how you feel?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Like it meant nothing?”
He didn’t answer. He just looked away.
And that silence?
It said everything.
I stared down at the papers on the counter. My name printed in black ink. My signature waiting beside his.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I thought we were figuring things out. I thought… maybe, just maybe, after yesterday, there was something growing between us.
But now he was handing me my freedom.
“You can just grab your stuff,” he said, clearing his throat. “Fly back to California. Do what you do best. That’s it.”
That’s it. Just like that. Like he hadn’t kissed me like I was the only person who ever mattered.
Right then, standing there in the kitchen with the smell of coffee still hanging in the air and his words echoing like a slap,
My heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
30
