I Signed The Divorce In Blood

1 The day Bill and I signed our marriage certificate at City Hall, my best friend handed me a month-old baby as a wedding gift. I stood on the sweltering sidewalk, holding the tiny, swaddled bundle in my arms, completely bewildered. Bill, my brand-new husband, looked at me with a soft, comforting smile. "You’ve always been terrified of the pain of childbirth," he explained, his tone infuriatingly gentle. "Gwen carried him for you. She said it was her way of repaying you for saving her life all those years ago." He reached out, lightly brushing the baby’s pale cheek. "He’s mine, Aria. He’s family. You can raise him without worrying about a thing." My blood ran cold. My breath hitched in my throat as I stared at him, my voice trembling violently. "That’s impossible!" A pregnancy isn’t something you can hide for nine months. Besides, Bill and I had been attached at the hip every single day. There was no way they could have behind my back— My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped the infant. Beside us, my brother, Mason, went pale. He lunged forward, catching the baby just in time, and glared at me with sharp disapproval. "Careful, Aria! Do you have any idea how hard they worked for this? They spent three years trying to conceive this child. It took everything they had to finally bring him into the world." Mason scoffed, settling the baby against his shoulder. "I’ve been helping them cover their tracks all this time just so they could give you a clean surprise." At those words, Bill’s face flickered with a brief flash of guilt. He stepped closer to me, his voice dropping into that quiet, persuasive cadence he always used when he wanted me to give in. "Gwen suffered so much to pull this off, Aria. As compensation... we’re swapping her into the wedding ceremony seven days from now. It’s only fair. You don’t mind, right?" In my right hand, the red folder holding the marriage certificate I had waited ten agonizing years for felt scorching hot, bright enough to burn my eyes. A sudden, overwhelming numbness rushed through my veins. I didn't want the wedding anymore. And God help me, I didn't want Bill anymore, either. Seeing my silence, Bill took the baby back from Mason. His movements were tender, almost reverent. "Look at him, Aria. Look how sweet he is. Hold him again. Gwen was terrified you wouldn't like him—she didn't sleep a wink last night worrying about it." I pulled my hands back, tucking my trembling fingers into my pockets to hide the shaking. I backed away from the baby, fixing my gaze on Bill’s face. "You promised me we were going to be childfree." Bill looked up, his expression entirely unbothered, like we were discussing the weather. "I get it, Aria. You're afraid of the pain, and I respected that. But you know how my mother is. I have a responsibility to the Miller family line. I needed an heir. This was the only win-win solution for everyone." I squeezed my hands into tight fists. My fingernails bit deep into my palms, but I didn't feel a thing. Ten years ago, the very day Bill confessed his feelings to me under the college oak trees, I had been entirely upfront: I am never having children. He had laughed then, pulled me into a tight hug, and whispered that as long as he had me, nothing else in the world mattered. I believed him. I gave him a decade of my life. It wasn't until we brought up marriage to his family that his mother threw a wall in our face, declaring she would never accept a daughter-in-law who refused to give her a grandchild. Bill had stormed out of his parents' house, dragging me by the hand, furious on my behalf. Seeing him torn between his family and me, I couldn't bear to ruin his life. I proposed breaking up. He lost his mind. He refused to let me go, standing under my apartment window night after night in the freezing rain, begging me not to give up on us. He went on a hunger strike against his mother, waging a silent, desperate war until Mrs. Miller finally broke down and surrendered. When Bill finally showed up at my door after that ordeal, he was gaunt, skin stretched tight over his hollow cheekbones. I had wrapped my arms around his waist and sobbed, but I still offered him an exit. I told him that if he had even a shred of regret, he could walk away before we ever signed a marriage certificate. I would leave quietly. I thought our love was built on complete, brutal honesty. It turned out I was the only one being honest. My eyes fell back onto the baby’s face. The shape of his eyes, the arch of his tiny brows—he was a carbon copy of Bill. A wave of intense acid flooded my throat. I turned away, gagging uncontrollably. Bill frowned, his forehead creasing with sudden concern. "Are you okay? Wait here, I'll go get the car." Without waiting for a response, he cradled the baby against his chest and strode quickly toward the parking garage. Mason watched him leave, then turned his glare on me, his tone biting. "When you two broke up back then, you couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, looking like a corpse. If Gwen hadn't agreed to carry a child for you, do you honestly think Mrs. Miller would have ever let Bill marry you?" He stepped closer, pointing a finger at my chest. "You got the legal paper today, and you didn't even have to stretch your skin or go through labor. I have no idea what the hell you're throwing a tantrum about!" Every single word felt like a silver needle thrust directly into my chest, leaving a deep, throbbed ache. Tears finally spilled over my lashes, hot and blinding. I shouted at him, my voice cracking with desperation. "Mason! Why do you think I was terrified of having a baby?! Other people might not get it, but how can YOU not understand?!" I was seven years old; Mason was ten. Our father walked out on us, abandoning our family for the woman he called his true soulmate. My mother, heavily pregnant at the time, was so shattered by the stress that she went into premature labor. It was a double death. She bled out on the floor of our old living room, drawing her last agonizing breath right in my arms. The blood that covered my small hands was thick and warm. Mason had held me on that ruined carpet, his body shaking violently as he sobbed into my hair: Aria, don't be scared. Big brother is right here. Ever since that day, I was haunted by relentless nightmares. The thought of pregnancy filled me with a deep, visceral terror. Faced with the memory, Mason’s eyes flickered with a momentary pang of guilt. But a heartbeat later, his expression hardened back into self-righteous indignation. "It's precisely because I didn't want you going through that trauma that I helped them keep it from you! At the end of the day, it was all for your own good. What more could you possibly complain about?!" I froze. My crying stopped abruptly. What was I supposed to be satisfied with? Satisfied that my husband of ten years had fathered a child with my best friend? Or satisfied that my own brother had conspired to lie to me for three whole years? In that moment, every question I wanted to scream felt utterly hollow. The lingering embers of anger, confusion, and grief—along with the very last thread of hope I held for the two men in front of me—deflated like a punctured balloon, vanishing into nothingness. Bill’s black SUV pulled up to the curb. He stepped out holding a travel pack of wet wipes and a bottle of mineral water. The baby was nowhere to be seen. "Is it heatstroke?" Bill asked, his voice laced with gentle anxiety. "Here, clean yourself up. Let's get out of the sun." I reflexively took the wipe he offered, but the moment I lifted it to my face, I froze. The cloth carried a distinct, soft scent of sweet jasmine. It was Gwen’s signature perfume. Bill noticed my pause and cleared his throat casually. "I picked Gwen up this morning before coming to meet you. She insisted that the wedding gift would only be meaningful if she handed it over after we got the license." I looked at him blankly. So that was why he had claimed there was an urgent emergency at the office this morning before rushing out the door. The front passenger window glided down. Gwen leaned out, her face framed by soft curls, looking at me with wide, worried eyes. "Aria... are you okay? You look so pale." She made a motion like she was about to open the door and step down. Bill’s face changed instantly. He dashed over, his hand resting gently over hers to stop her from moving, his voice dropping into a scolding hush. "Stay inside. It's boiling out here. You just finished your postpartum recovery—you know your body can't handle extreme temperature swings right now." Gwen looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with red, looking entirely wronged. "But Bill... I don't think Aria likes the baby..." Bill leaned down, matching her eye level. His gaze was impossibly tender, his voice firm and reassuring. "She's holding the child you carried for her—how could she not like him? Don't overthink things." He reached out, lightly squeezing her fingers, his brow furrowing with distress. "Why are your hands so cold?" Without another word, he reached inside and adjusted the car's climate control, turning the air conditioning down two degrees. He was sweating from the summer heat himself, but he didn't care at all. A bitter, metallic taste pooled in my mouth. Over the past four years, after Bill and I officially got back together, he had been by my side almost constantly. Yet, I had felt a subtle shift in him. When we sat together in dark movie theaters, he would clutch his phone, smiling vaguely at the glowing screen. Years ago, he used to reply to my messages within seconds. Lately, it took four or five hours. Sometimes three or four days was considered "fast." His texts had evolved from Don't worry babe, hang tight, calling you in two minutes! to a simple, dismissive K. I had spent months making excuses for him. He's exhausted. His new firm is taking up all his energy. I had consoled myself with the classic lie: No romance stays fiery forever. It just matures into something comfortable. Standing on the burning pavement, the illusion shattered. He hadn't changed at all. When Bill loved someone, he was still as passionate, attentive, and fiercely protective as he had been a decade ago. It was just that the person he loved wasn't me anymore. Bill turned to Mason and me, waving his hand impatiently. "Get in the car. We can talk at home. It's too hot out here; it's bad for Gwen and the baby." Mason nodded, sliding his long legs into the back seat. I stood staring at the front passenger seat—the seat that had belonged to me for ten years. Bill caught my gaze and frowned, his voice taking on a sharp edge. "Gwen gets carsick easily, Aria. Sit in the back today." Gwen put on a panicked expression, clutching the baby to her chest as she shuffled toward the door. "No, Bill, this is Aria's spot. I'll move to the back, I don't mind—" Bill gripped her wrist firmly, forcing her back into the leather seat. "Stay put." Gwen looked out at me, her eyes brimming with helpless innocence. "Aria... I'm so sorry..." I stood rooted to the pavement beside the passenger door, refusing to budge. The air between us curdled into an icy standoff. Mason snapped. He reached out from the back seat, his face contorted with rage. "Aria! Gwen almost died on the operating table to give you a family! You ungrateful bitch!" He lunged across, thrusting his arm out and shoving me violently backward. "If you don't want to ride, then walk your miserable ass home!" He slammed the door shut. In the split second before the tinted glass sealed out the world, I caught the flare of sheer disgust in Bill’s eyes. The SUV accelerated, tossing a wave of hot exhaust over my ankles as it sped away. The summer sun beat down on my skin, stinging like tiny needles. I stood on the side of the road, completely motionless. In my head, I began to count. One. Two. Three... During our sweetest year together, after a minor argument, Bill had wrapped his arms around me and whispered into my ear: If we ever get into a fight and I walk away mad, don't follow me. Just stand right where you are and count to twenty. I promise I will always turn around and come straight back to you. In ten years, we had rarely fought. He had never once walked away in anger. I let out a shaky breath, letting a morbid, self-destructive curiosity take over. Did he still remember? Nineteen. Twenty. Down the street, the black SUV made a sharp U-turn, tires screeching as it pulled back up to the curb beside me. Tears spilled over my cheeks, heavy and silent. He still remembered. So why did my chest feel like it was being hollowed out with a knife? The front passenger door opened, but it wasn't Bill who stepped out. Gwen had already moved to the back seat with the child. Bill leaned over from the driver’s seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel, his other rubbing his temples in utter exhaustion. "Stop throwing a scene, Aria. It's hot. Get in before you get sick." I bit my lip so hard I felt skin break. My voice was a thin, trembling thread. "Bill... what if I tell you I'm pregnant?" I hadn't given up on us. Back when Bill was starving himself to fight his mother, I had stared out my window at his dwindling silhouette and asked myself over and over: Are you really going to lose the love of your life just because you're scared? Seeing him waste away for me gave me my answer. If the man was Bill, I wanted to try. I wanted to fight my demons for him. I had kept it a secret from everyone, quietly seeing a clinical psychologist specializing in birth trauma for nearly two years. Step by step, I untangled the horrific memory of my mother dying in my arms. Eventually, the nightmares stopped. I could finally sleep through the night without waking up screaming. When the home test turned positive a month ago, I realized with a shock that the primal terror was gone. All I felt was a quiet, soaring anticipation. I kept imagining how overjoyed Bill would be when I finally handed him the ultrasound scan on the day we got our marriage license. Even now... even after everything... I needed to hear his answer. I needed to know if the last ten years had been a complete lie. In the car, a dead silence fell. The expressions on all three faces turned instantly to stone. Gwen’s eyes flooded with tears, streaming down her face in a pathetic, delicate display of heartbreak. "Aria... I never wanted to steal anything from you. I only wanted to repay you for saving my life... The baby is Bill's blood, too. Please... please don't hate him..." Bill looked at me through the open door, his eyes filled with an unbearable, cold disappointment. "Aria, if you were actually willing to get pregnant for me, why wait until today? You have the marriage certificate in your hand. What else could you possibly be trying to pull?" Mason leaned out from the back window, pointing a finger directly at my nose, his voice raw with fury. "Aria! Just because you pulled Gwen out of that lake when we were kids doesn't mean you own her soul! She carried a child for you—her debt to you is paid! She was just sitting here sobbing, begging Bill to turn the car around to pick you up! Who the hell are you trying to guilt-trip?!" Looking at their harsh, accusing faces, the corners of my mouth curled into a faint, lifeless smile. I should have known. The secret gift I had prepared with so much hope had fermented into something grotesque—a desperate, pathetic threat in their eyes. Bill hadn't turned the car around because he remembered a promise made years ago. He had come back because Gwen had begged him to. "Let's get a divorce," I whispered. The only answer I received was the roar of the engine. The SUV lurched forward, blowing a blast of hot air against my face as it tore down the street. Nobody heard what I said. Numbly, I reached into my purse, pushing the half-drawn ultrasound slip back into the bottom of my bag. This time, I didn't stay on the sidewalk to count to twenty. I called a family law attorney, had her draft a standard divorce agreement, and went straight to the women’s clinic downtown to schedule an abortion. When the nurse handed me the appointment card, I stared at the date in shock. The 23rd. It was the exact date Bill and I had chosen for our wedding. Except now, it was the date for Bill and Gwen's wedding. Over the next few days, I didn't return to our apartment. I checked into a quiet hotel near my office. Every evening, my phone buzzed with notifications from the wedding planning group chat. Gwen had become the center of the universe: the lace on the gown needed to be altered, the stationery was too plain, the catering menu looked cheap... Piece by piece, every detail I had painstakingly curated over the past six months was scrapped and replaced by Gwen. I quietly tapped the screen and left the group chat. A second later, a text from Bill popped up: [Aria, as soon as the ceremony is over, I'll take you to Alaska to see the Northern Lights like we always planned.] [You HAVE to come to the wedding. Gwen told me it was a pact you two made when you were eighteen.] [The baby has been fussing a lot at night. Gwen isn't sleeping well, so I'm going to stay at her place for a few days to help out.] Before I could reply, he re-added me to the wedding chat. I let out a dry, bitter laugh. Not wanting to waste another second of my energy on him, I muted the group completely. On the morning of the 23rd, I went back to our old apartment to pick up my passport and birth certificate before heading to the clinic. Just as I reached my landing, the door to the neighboring apartment swung open. Gwen stepped out onto the hallway, wearing a full bridal gown, her hair intricately styled under a shimmering veil. I stopped dead in my tracks. "You... live here?" Our next-door neighbor had moved abroad four years ago, and I had never seen anyone move in. Gwen froze, her radiant smile faltering for a fraction of a second before melting into a timid, apologetic look. "I moved in three years ago... It was just easier... for the doctors to visit during the fertility treatments..." My breath hitched. A thousand screams lodged in my throat, but when I finally opened my mouth, the only word that came out was a quiet, broken, "Why?" In an instant, the timid look vanished from Gwen’s face, replaced by a dark, intoxicating malice. "Aria, who do you think you are?" she sneered, stepping closer, her heavy silk dress rustling against the narrow hallway walls. "You've always looked down on me, haven't you? Pretending to be the generous savior. Well, guess what? Today, I'm the bride. And I'm the mother of his child." She let out a soft, mocking chuckle, as if remembering a hilarious joke. "Did you really think Bill was sleeping in his office during those late nights? Every single night after you fell asleep, he came right across the hall to my bed." She leaned in, her voice a poisonous whisper. "And your precious brother sat right in his apartment, monitoring your home's security feed for us. The moment you stirred, Mason would text Bill to slip back into your bed. Eventually, they found it too risky... so Mason started putting crushed sleeping pills in your evening chamomile tea." My hands clenched into fists so tight my knuckles turned stark white. A rusty, metallic taste filled my mouth as blood bloomed where I bit my inner cheek. I remembered those strange, heavy nights when I would wake up at three in the morning, feeling unnaturally groggy, finding Bill coming through the front door carrying a bag of late-night takeout, claiming he couldn't sleep because he was hungry. "Gwen... I treated you like my own sister," I whispered, my voice trembling violently. "When you fell into that frozen lake, I swam in to pull you out. When your father refused to pay for your college, I gave you every single cent of my savings so you could buy your books! How could you do this to me?!" Gwen glanced down at her manicured nails, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Saved me? Didn't I just give birth to a son to pay you back? Since you're always so generous, why don't you gift me Bill, too? Not that I need your permission—he loves me now, not you." Blinded by a sudden, violent rage, I raised my hand and swung it toward her cheek with everything I had. Before my palm could hit her face, an iron grip clamped around my wrist. I was shoved backward with immense force. I stumbled, turning around to collide with Bill’s thunderous, furious eyes. "Aria! That's enough!" he roared. Gwen immediately collapsed against the wall, hiding her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently as tears spilled through her fingers. "Aria, I'm sorry! It's all my fault! I don't want the wedding anymore, you can have it back! Just... please don't hurt the baby... I beg you!" "Gwen, stop acting!" I screamed, my voice raw. Mason rushed up the stairs behind Bill, grabbing my shoulders and digging his fingers into my collarbone to pin me down. "Aria, you've completely lost your damn mind! Apologize to her right now!" I strained against his grip, my chin lifted high, my eyes burning. "I did nothing wrong! Why the hell should I apologize?! You're the ones who should be begging on your knees!" Bill’s eyes narrowed into dark, icy slits. "You're not going to apologize? Fine." He brushed past me into my apartment, walked straight to my bedside table, and picked up a velvet blue box. He walked back out and tossed it into Gwen’s hands. "Here," Bill said coldly. "Consider this Aria's apology gift to you." My heart stopped. "No!" I went wild, twisting out of Mason’s grip and throwing my entire body forward to grab the box. "That's my mother's heirloom! You don't get to touch it!" Gwen let out a high-pitched sob, clutching the blue box to her chest. Mason lost the last thread of his composure. He raised his heavy right hand and brought it down with a deafening crack across my face. SLAP. The impact threw my head to the side. My cheek bloomed with a searing, white-hot heat. My ears rang violently. He had never laid a finger on me in his entire life. Mason froze on the spot. He stared blankly at his own hand, then at the angry red mark swelling on my cheek, his face turning a confused shade of pale. Even Bill looked shaken. He took an involuntary step toward me, his hand reaching out, his expression softening with a sudden wave of instinctual remorse. Seeing his hesitation, Gwen immediately thrust the velvet box back toward Bill, sobbing hysterically. "Take it back! I don't want it! I'm not a mistress, Bill! I only wanted to help you two..." Bill’s face hardened again instantly. His hand swerved, snatching the velvet box back from her with a snap. He looked at me, his eyes dead and unfeeling. "Aria, you are spoiled beyond belief. You need to learn a lesson." I shook my head frantically, backing away, my voice dropping into a desperate, pathetic whisper. "I won't cause a scene... I'll sign the divorce papers right now... I'll leave Chicago, I swear I won't—" "You're still making threats!" Mason shouted, his guilt instantly replaced by renewed fury. He lunged forward, ripped the blue velvet box out of Bill’s hand, and hurled it out the open hallway window. I watched in horror as my mother’s last legacy vanished into the deep drop outside. Before I could react, Bill grabbed my upper arm, dragged me roughly into my apartment, and shoved me backward. I slammed hard onto the hardwood floor. "Think about what you've done," Bill said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying chill. "In three hours, we'll come back to take you to the venue." BANG. The heavy front door slammed shut, and the lock clicked from the outside. I lay on the cold floor, unable to move. A sharp, tearing agony exploded in my lower abdomen, as if a hot blade were slicing through my intestines. Cold sweat drenched my hairline within seconds. Between my thighs, a warm, thick liquid began to pool, soaking through my jeans. Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision, and I blacked out. Three hours later, Bill and Mason unlocked the front door to bring me to the wedding. They stepped into the quiet living room, calling my name, but the apartment was empty. The only thing waiting for them was a massive, dark red pool of blood dried onto the center of the floor. "Aria?!" Mason gasped. The replica necklace he had spent an hour searching for in the bushes outside slipped from his fingers, crashing hard against the floorboards. Bill walked slowly over to the coffee table. His hand trembled violently as he picked up a white sheet of paper left beside my keys. As his eyes read the bold letters at the top, every drop of color drained from his face.