She Stopped Loving And Started Shining

Rain hammered Andogend that night as a black van tore down the highway at full throttle.

Roselyn Todd lay curled in the rear of the vehicle.

A masked man beside her said coldly, "Call Brendan Clayton. Tell him to bring twenty million dollars to the outskirts."

He threw a disposable phone onto the floor in front of her.

Roselyn's fingers shook as she picked it up and called her husband, Brendan.

The second the call went through, panic cracked her voice. "Brendan, I've been taken to the outskirts..."

A woman answered instead, "Who's calling? Brendan can't talk right now."

Roselyn went rigid. She knew exactly who was on the other end-Mila Williams.

They had gone to high school together.

But Mila wasn't merely an old classmate. She was Brendan's first love-the woman he had never truly managed to forget.

Before Roselyn could process what she was hearing, a burst of derisive laughter spilled through the phone from somewhere behind Mila-Brendan's friends.

"Come on, Brendan married her because he owed a debt and wanted to make his grandmother happy. Does she seriously think that makes her his real wife?"

"That's right. This is Mila's welcome-home party. Why even mention her and kill the mood?"

"Mila, who's calling?" Brendan's low, familiar voice drifted through the phone, carrying a warmth Roselyn had never heard him use with her.

Without the slightest urgency, Mila answered, "I think it's Ms. Todd. Apparently, she's in trouble."

A hollow chuckle escaped Brendan. "That's seriously the story she went with? If she's after money, tell her to contact my accountant. I'm not entertaining another pathetic stunt for attention. End the call."

With the call suddenly gone, Roselyn went completely still.

The man angrily grabbed the burner phone and immediately redialed.

This time, no one picked up. An endless busy tone was all he got.

"He doesn't even care about her."

An argument broke out among the men just as the van started losing speed. The fear in Roselyn's eyes hardened into determination.

If Brendan had no intention of coming for her, then she had only herself to rely on.

Gathering every ounce of strength she had left, she hurled herself against the battered door. It gave way, and she launched herself straight into the pouring rain.

Everything became a blur. For one fleeting second, hope surged through her. She'd made it out.

Then filthy rainwater rushed into her airway. Her damaged lungs spasmed, plunging her into an asthma attack.

The damage had begun three years earlier, when she'd dragged Brendan out of a fire and permanently ruined her lungs in the process.

Helpless in the mud, Roselyn fought for one thin breath after another.

Her bag had disappeared, taking her inhaler with it.

Darkness crept across her vision. Yet before it swallowed her completely, one thought lingered. If she made it out of this, she would never waste her love on Brendan again.

...

The next time Roselyn opened her eyes, she was lying in a hospital bed.

For several long seconds, she simply stared at the ceiling, dazed by the realization that she hadn't died.

A stranger who happened to pass by had found her and saved her life.

Roselyn discharged herself from the hospital and made her way back to the Clayton Estate.

She had only just entered when Brendan appeared on the staircase, heading down. One glance at him made her stop cold.

Brendan's face darkened the moment he saw her. Disgust crept into his expression as his gaze swept over her appearance. "You disappeared for an entire night, then stroll back in here looking like this? What, am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Or are you planning to go crying to Grandma again?"

Roselyn simply looked at him. Her eyes stung, but there were no tears left to fall. "Brendan, where were you last night?" she demanded.

A humorless smirk crossed his face. "Since when do I owe you an explanation for where I go? Enough with the poor-me routine, Roselyn. Mila's back now. I'm done wasting my time playing along with this little marriage charade."

Whatever fragile hope Roselyn had still been clinging to finally crumbled.

For three years, she had poured everything she had into him, foolishly convinced that enough devotion could eventually thaw even the coldest heart.

She had been wrong. No sacrifice could make Brendan return her love. All those years of loving him had earned her nothing but wounds, inside and out.

Her voice held no emotion as she shot back, "All right. I've had enough."

Without another word, she turned away and headed for the study. From where she had kept them hidden for the past three years, she pulled out the divorce papers.

From day one, there had been nothing romantic about their marriage. It had begun with a contract.

Brendan himself had drawn up the terms before they ever exchanged vows. Back then, Roselyn had never dreamed she'd be the one pulling those papers out this early.

She tucked the divorce agreement beneath a notice for the property management fees, then held the documents out to him. "The property manager sent this over. I need your signature."

Brendan couldn't even be bothered to glance at the pages. With a few irritated strokes, he scribbled an unreadable signature across the bottom.

"I'm going up to get some sleep. Unless something actually matters, leave me alone."

Roselyn stood where she was, watching until Brendan vanished from sight. Slowly, the corner of her mouth curved into a smile laced with bitter irony.

Three years earlier, gratitude had been enough for him to make her his wife.

Now, three years later, he was throwing her away without so much as looking back.

The downpour had already passed by the time Roselyn walked out of the Clayton Estate.

Carrying the documents bearing Brendan's signature, she headed to the courthouse alone and formally filed for divorce.

When the finalized decree was finally placed in her hands, a long, unsteady breath escaped her chest.

As of that moment, Roselyn was no longer Brendan's wife.