Mom's Nurse, His Mistress, My Revenge - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

The person who once comforted me with such tenderness... was gone forever.
I locked myself away for three straight days until my friends literally dragged me out. They did their best to console me, mentioning how Rian had moved out of our place. From the looks of it, Noel actually meant what he'd said this time.
"Nellie, Noel's got everything going for him," one friend ventured cautiously. "He's drowning in guilt right now—he'll move heaven and earth to make things right. Are you really not going to give him another chance?"
My fingers brushed the scab on my hand—a permanent reminder of when he'd stormed my apartment with his goons like some mob boss. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If I could forgive him after this, what would that make me? Some kind of masochistic monster?"
"Mom would still be alive if it weren't for them."
The room went dead silent, followed by weighted sighs. "Maybe divorce really is the only way. I just... I don't think he'll let you go that easily."
I knew they were right. But come hell or high water, I was ending this marriage.
That night, as I approached my building, a familiar silhouette materialized near the entrance. His whole face brightened like a damn Christmas tree when he spotted me.
"Nellie! Finally! I've been freezing my ass off out here for hours."
Noel.
Same cocky swagger, same unshakable confidence—like the past weeks had just rolled right off his designer suit.
"What do you want?" I kept my voice arctic. "The lawyer sent the papers. Sign them if there's no issue."
"You're still pissed, huh?" He reached for me, but I stepped back like he was radioactive. "I said I was sorry, didn't I? Got rid of Rian, bought all those designer pieces you've been eyeing—they're waiting in the bedroom. Come home, check them out. Name anything else, it's yours."
Seriously? He thought this could be shopped away like some Black Friday sale?
I locked onto his eyes, unblinking. "Anything I want?"
He nodded like an overeager puppy. "Name it. Doesn't matter how impossible."
"Divorce." The word cracked like a whip. "I want you erased from my life. Permanently."
"Nellie! Stop this bullshit!" His face twisted. "I'm bending over backwards here! What more could you possibly—yes, your mom's death was tragic, but divorcing me won't—"
"I know it won't!" My voice turned razor-sharp. "That's exactly why all I want is to put a fucking continent between us! Jesus, what kind of narcissistic fantasy land are you living in where I'd just keep taking your abuse with a smile?"
"Get this through your thick skull—your pathetic grand gestures make me physically ill. Final warning: stay the hell out of my life!"
I spun toward the stairwell. When he grabbed my arm, I shoved him hard enough to stumble. "Get lost!"
A small audience had gathered—nothing like public humiliation to kill the mood. He had no choice but to let me go, but his voice chased me up the stairs: "Nellie! I'll wait as long as it takes!"
I didn't dignify that with a response. Later, peering through my blinds, I saw him still planted below like some lovesick teenager thinking a vigil would change anything.
Pathetic.
Morning revealed him still there—disheveled, shadows under his eyes, that polished arrogance replaced with raw desperation.
"Nellie! You're finally—"
I walked right past him, dumped my trash, and vanished back inside like he was a ghost.