Ch. Divorce My H 3 Divorce My H 3

Chapter 3 

The message came early in the morning. 

“Dear Ms. Trinidad Dela Torre, this is to 

confirm your one–way ticket to Finland for 

June 20. We’re excited to have you on board. 

Your father has arranged everything and 

looking forward to your reunion.” 

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For a second, I couldn’t even breathe. I stared 

at the screen, rereading the words, as if they 

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might change. But they didn’t. My father had 

arranged everything. Finally! He accepted me 

back. 

I wrapped my arms around myself, biting 

back the emotion that surged too fast. 

Finland. In five days. It felt like the universe 

had opened a tiny door, one final chance to 

reclaim the version of me I’d buried long ago. 

I didn’t even care that I was sick. I’d been sick 

for years–just not always in the body. 

Five days. I could do five days. 

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“I can endure this,” I whispered to the silence. 

“Just five more.” 

I told myself I’d be kind. I’d cook their favorite 

meals. I’d clean, prepare what they needed. I 

would leave this house in order, like a good 

little ghost–polite, invisible, forgotten. 

That thought almost made me laugh. 

I was still standing by the window when the 

knock came. Sharp, impatient. 

I opened the gate to find a delivery auv, his 

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hat too big for his head, holding a medium- 

sized box. 

“Package for Dela Torre?” he asked, tilting his 

head. 

I nodded. 

“No sender listed. Just… enjoy your trip?” He 

shrugged and handed it over. 

C 

I stood there holding the box for a second, 

heart thudding like it already knew 

something I didn’t. It wasn’t heavy, just firm. 

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Tightly taped. Clean edges. 

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Inside, I found five glossy travel pouches- 

first–class plane tickets, hotel confirmations, 

thick winter coats still smelling like new, and a 

set of itinerary brochures. They were all 

clearly labeled: Helsinki. Aurora Borealis. 

December Sky Tour. For five guests. 

My knees nearly gave out. Five tickets. The 

dream I’d kept tucked away for so long… it 

was here. Tangible. Cold weather, foreign 

stars, snow–covered forests—it was all 

printed there in color. 

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I clutched one of the coats, brushing my 

hands across its soft lining. My size. 

Had Jackson done this? 

He’d lashed out at me before–God knows 

how many times. But afterward, there were 

always gifts. Expensive apologies wrapped in 

gold paper and guilt. Maybe this time, the trip 

was his way of making peace. He knew how 

long I’d wanted to see the Northern Lights 

My chest burned with something fragile and 

dangerous: hope. 

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Just then, the front door opened. 

Jackson. He paused mid–step when he saw 

me with the box. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he barked, his 

eyes narrowing. 

I turned to him slowly, still holding one of the 

tickets. “I saw the package. I didn’t know you 

were planning something. But… thank you, 

Jackson. Really. I’m not mad anymore. You 

got the Finland trip I always wanted.” 

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He blinked, then scoffed, walking over to 

yank the ticket from my hand. 

“Who the hell said these are for you?” 

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My stomach twisted. “But… there are five 

tickets-‘ 

“They’re for Donna and me. Tania and her 

family. Business trip.” 

C 

I tried to smile, tried to make sense of it. 

“Without me? But… I could go. Maybe just help with-” 

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He cut me off with a laugh so sharp it nearly 

sliced through me. 

“Why would you come? What the hell would 

you do there, Trina? You gonna negotiate 

contracts with CEOS? You can’t even handle 

an online banking app.” 

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I opened my mouth, but no words came. Just 

air and pain. 

He sneered. “We need someone to watch the 

house, anyway. Since you’re not doing 

anything useful.” 

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And that was it. That was when the final 

thread inside me snapped. 

As I stood there frozen, the stairs creaked. 

“What’s going on?” Tania asked, barely 

glancing up while looking at her phone. 

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“She saw the tickets,” Jackson muttered. 

C 

“Oh, that? That was my gift to Aunt Donna. I 

ordered it weeks ago.” 

Gift. My ears rang. 

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What about me? I’d spent my life giving. And 

all I got was silence, blame, and a job title no 

one respected. 

“And you,” my own daughter added, “can you 

get this list done? We’re bringing all of this to 

Finland. Don’t screw it up.” 

She walked out as quickly as she came. And I 

just stood there, swallowing the bitterness, 

trying not to cry. 

Jackson’s phone rang. I moved to leave, but 

his voice caught my attention. 

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“Hey, baby,” he said smoothly. “Yeah, she saw 

1. it. Don’t worry, everything’s fine here. I’ll keep 

her busy… I can’t wait to see the aurora 

borealis with you.” 

That was it. 

I walked away before he could notice the way 

I crumpled. My hands shook, my teeth 

clenched so tightly I felt my jaw ache. 

I had never felt so completely replaced in my 

life. 

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Not loved. Not even seen. 

That night, I didn’t cry. 

I packed their clothes. Ironed Donna’s coats. 

Crossed off everything on their precious list. 

But I didn’t do it for them. 

I did it so they couldn’t say I left them with a 

mess. 

€ 

The next morning, I dressed differently. A 

beige blouse, slacks I hadn’t worn in years, 

my old brown handbag. A touch of lipstick. 

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Something about the routine gave me back a 

sliver of control. 

I walked to the lawyer’s office, alone. 

The waiting room was quiet. The receptionist 

offered me tea. I declined. When it was my 

turn, I sat across from a young man in a dark 

suit. 

“I want to file for divorce,” I said. “And erase 

every connection with the Dela Torre family.”