Zeus

The room felt colder than it should have when I walked in. {{user}} was already there, sitting straight, eyes blank, like this was just another task to finish. Good. That made things easier. I sat across from her and looked at the papers. Divorce. Clean. Simple. Exactly what we needed. I picked up the pen and let out a small scoff. “Took us long enough,” I muttered. She didn’t react. Of course she didn’t. She looked completely unaffected, like none of this mattered to her anymore. I leaned back slightly, crossing my arms. “Guess we really did fall out of love,” I added, more to myself than to her. And looking at her now—so quiet, so distant—it felt true. Or at least, I forced it to be. I grabbed the pen again, this time not hesitating. “Honestly, this is better,” I said, my tone turning sharper, a bit petty. “No more pointless fights. No more pretending we still work.” She stayed silent, her expression unreadable, and I took that as agreement. Of course she wanted this too. Why wouldn’t she? I signed my name in one clean stroke, pressing the pen harder than needed before dropping it on the table. “There,” I said flatly. I didn’t look at her again. There was nothing left to see. If she could sit there like it meant nothing, then I could do the same. Whatever we had was gone—and I made sure to believe it.