The next day, parked outside the courthouse in his Maybach, Caspian Thorne tapped a restless rhythm on the steering wheel.

“Caspian, you and Lyra have been married for a year. Don’t you think it’s time you started planning for a baby?” an elderly voice crackled from the phone’s speaker.

Caspian’s expression softened, a hint of frustration in his eyes, but his voice remained patient. “Grandma, we’re still young. There’s no rush. You just need to focus on your health.”

“What do you mean, ‘no rush’?” his grandmother, Eleonora Thorne, retorted, her tone sharp with annoyance. “Your condition may have stabilized, but we’re not getting any younger. We don’t know how much time we have left.”

“Grandma…”

“Don’t ‘Grandma’ me! I’ve heard things, Caspian. Whatever is going on, you be good to Lyra.”

A few seconds of silence hung between them.

“Caspian, did you hear me?” the old woman pressed.

He rubbed his forehead. “I understand, Grandma.”

After a few more words, he ended the call and resumed tapping the steering wheel, his movements slower now, more distracted as he stared toward the courthouse entrance. He clenched his jaw, then opened the messaging app on his phone.

His thumb hovered over a profile picture—a simple floral image he had tagged “My Love.” He skipped past it and opened his chat with Lyra. The last message he’d sent was a curt reminder of the time and place for their meeting.

She still hadn’t arrived.

With a scowl, Caspian typed a new message. “Where are you?”

Almost immediately, a knock sounded on the window. He turned to see Lyra standing there, her face pale. She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat without a word.

He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes—an outfit she had chosen for him. For years, she had been the one to select his ties, his cologne, every detail down to the cut of his suits.

“Why are you late?” Caspian asked.

Lyra looked away. “I’m not late,” she said quietly.

She was simply no longer the girl who arrived early to wait for him.

Caspian’s fingers stilled on the wheel. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. She looked tired, likely from a sleepless night after his announcement. Still, she seemed composed.

“My grandmother called,” he said, turning away. “Don’t tell them about the divorce. They’re too old to handle it.”

Lyra didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she asked, “What did she say?”

“She wants us to have a baby,” he replied flatly, irritation coloring his voice.

Silence filled the car. After a moment, Lyra let out a soft, small laugh.

Caspian curled his hand into a fist and stared out the window. There had been a time when he wondered what their child would look like. He remembered holding her from behind, a hand on her belly, whispering, “Lyra, when will you give me a baby?”

But it had never happened.

Besides, they could remarry in six months and start a family then. There was still time. Isolde, however, only had six months left.

Outside, people walked by.

Lyra spoke again. “Just once more, Caspian. Are you absolutely sure you want this divorce?”

“Having second thoughts?” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. Isolde was waiting for him at her studio.

After that final confirmation, Lyra said nothing more. She reached into her bag, pulled out a document, and handed it to him.

He took it with a frown, flipping through the pages. It was a property division agreement.

“If we’re getting a divorce,” she said, “we should make things clear. I’ll only take what I’m entitled to from the Thorne family. From this point on, anything either of us earns is our own.”

She then pulled out a pen and set it beside him. “If you agree, just sign it.”

Caspian’s eyes remained on the document, his frown deepening. The agreement was surprisingly simple; she wasn’t asking for much. Her signature was already at the bottom.

He didn’t understand. What was her game? This was supposed to be a temporary divorce. He planned to spend these six months with Isolde, and then he would return to Lyra. No one else ever had to know.

To him, Lyra had always been blindly loyal. He had never considered her a woman with pride or boundaries. There was a time he’d grown bored and pushed her into things designed to chip away at her self-respect, but she never refused. She would always return with a gentle smile, holding out the results of her efforts like a prize. “Caspian, look—I did it. Isn’t it great?”

She was a good wife. Meek and obedient. For seven years, he’d seen it proven time and again. If not for Isolde, their marriage would likely have continued just like that.

But…

A memory flashed through his mind—Isolde, frail and coughing up blood, still trying to smile. The image was a raw, unshakable pain in his chest.

Caspian looked out the window again. Lyra’s reflection stared back, blank and expressionless. Was this her way of threatening him? After all, she had once faked messages to frame Isolde. She despised Isolde.

With a dry chuckle, Caspian picked up the pen and signed his name. No one could force his hand. Not even her.

There were two copies. Lyra calmly took hers after he had signed both.

They got out of the car and walked into the courthouse to file for divorce. The next time they returned, it would be to finalize the process and receive the official decree.

Once the formalities were complete, they stepped back out into the blazing sun. The warmth settled on Lyra’s skin.

Caspian scanned the people around them. It was easy to distinguish the couples getting married from those getting divorced. A couple walked past, hand in hand. The woman’s smile reminded him of the look on Lyra’s face a year ago, on their wedding day.

He glanced at Lyra, but her expression was unreadable.

“I’ll keep transferring money to your account for the next six months,” he said. “And don’t say anything to my grandparents.”

He didn’t wait for her reply before turning and walking away.

Lyra stood quietly, watching his car disappear around the corner. Her cab arrived moments later. The two vehicles headed in opposite directions.

One turned toward Isolde Finch Floral Design.

The other drove toward St. Jude’s Medical Center.

Caspian walked into Isolde’s studio, where she greeted him with a soft smile. He told her, “It’s done. She didn’t make a scene.”

Meanwhile, Lyra entered the obstetrics wing and sat down across from the doctor.

The doctor reached over and pulled the curtain closed.

“Lyra… are you sure you want to terminate the pregnancy?” Her best friend and doctor, Zara Ali, looked at her with deep concern. “You wanted a baby so badly. You worked so hard to prepare your body for conception…”

Lyra reached into her bag and placed the divorce filing receipt on the small table.

“Yes,” she replied calmly. “Let’s terminate it. I don’t want it anymore.”