Ch. Divorce My H 9 Divorce My H 9

Chapter 9 

I took a step back. “What… what are you 

doing here?” 

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He chuckled, almost disbelieving. “I could ask 

you the same thing. You’re the one dressed 

as a bride in the middle of Finland.” 

I laughed, stunned. “I— I was just–long story. 

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Let’s Divorce, My Husband 

What about you?” 

“I’m here for work. Decided to take some 

photos for fun.” He gestured to his suit. 

“Didn’t expect to run into my childhood 

bride.” 

Childhood bride. That made me smile. 

When we were kids, I swore I’d marry Mateo 

someday. He was my best friend, my crush, 

my secret safe place. But he moved away, 

vanished before I could even say goodbye. 

Life swept us in different directions. 

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Now, standing here in a wedding dress in 

Finland, it felt like fate was laughing gently in 

the background. 

The photographer clapped his hands. “So… 

how about it? Fake wedding shoot for the 

two people who almost had one for real?” 

Mateo grinned. “Only if the bride agrees.” 

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I looked at him. And for the first time in so 

long, I smiled—not out of politeness, not to 

cover pain, but because something inside me 

fluttered. 

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“Let’s do it,” I said. 

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And as the camera clicked and the snow kept 

falling, I felt something.shift. 

The photographer beamed as he guided us 

into poses–some staged, some natural. I 

stood beside Mateo, our shoulders brushing. 

Every now and then, I caught him sneaking 

glances at me, the corners of his mouth 

curling up when our eyes met. 

“Alright,” the photographer said, “look at each 

other like you’re actually in love.” 

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Mateo chuckled. “That should be easy.” 

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I playfully narrowed my eyes at him. “Is that a 

line, Mateo?” 

He gave a slow shrug. “Maybe. You’ve always 

been a tough one to impress.” 

“And yet you never stopped trying.” 

“Still not giving up,” he said with a wink. 

I laughed, this time freely. The photographer 

kept snapping photos as we stood in the soft 

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snow, the sky a pale watercolor of clouds. 

Everything around us felt like it had been 

frozen in time–just the two of us, lost in this 

strange, serendipitous moment. 

We moved closer for the next shot. His hand 

found my waist–hesitant at first, but warm. I 

looked up at him, and suddenly I was fifteen 

again, staring at the boy who used to climb 

trees just to drop notes into my window. 

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” I murmured. 

“I’ve missed this face,” he said, brushing a 

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snowflake from my cheek. “You’ve changed, 

but you’re still you.” 

Once the shoot wrapped up, we found a little 

café nearby–one of those cozy, firelit places 

that smelled of cinnamon and pine. We sat by 

the window with hot chocolate in hand, the 

photo previews displayed on his phone 

between us. 

“Look at this one,” I said, laughing. “I look like 

I’m about to fall.” 

“You do,” he agreed. “Straight into my arms, 

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obviously.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Still cheesy.” 

“And still charming, admit it.” 

“Hmm. You’ve gotten better with age.” 

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He smirked. “I always knew I would. But you… 

you’re stunning, Trina. Seriously.” 

I looked away, trying to ignore the heat rising 

in my cheeks. “Stop. You’re just saying that 

because I’m wearing tulle and a tiara.” 

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“No,” he said, voice gentler now. “I mean it. 

You look… happy. Whole.” 

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My smile faltered, and I stared down at the 

mug in my hands. “It took a while to get here.” 

He picked up on my shift in tone. “Do you 

want to talk about it?” 

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I was 

married. Until recently.” 

Mateo blinked. “Was?” 

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I nodded again. “He wasn’t who I thought he 

was. At first, everything seemed perfect. He 

was sweet, charming, full of promises. But the 

more I loved him, the more I lost myself. He 

put me second to everyone else, made me 

feel small. I gave up everything—my family, 

my future—for him. And in the end… I was just 

a maid in my own home.” 

There was a long pause. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You didn’t 

deserve that.” 

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I shrugged, though my throat tightened. “It’s 

over now. I walked away. Left him, left 

everything. Started over.” 

He reached across the table and gently took 

my hand. “Good. I’m proud of you.” 

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We sat like that for a moment–no words, just 

shared warmth. 

“And you?” I asked, my voice lighter now. 

“Still charming. Still cheesy. Still single?” 

He chuckled. “Surprisingly, yes. I had 

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relationships, sure, but none that ever stuck. 

And you know what I always told myself?” 

“What?” 

“That I was just waiting for someone. 

I tilted my head, amused. “Oh? Who?” 

He looked me straight in the eye. “You.” 

I laughed. “You’re terrible.” 

He shrugged with a grin. “I’m honest.” 

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“Mateo,” I said, still smiling, “we haven’t seen 

each other in over a decade.” 

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“And yet here we are,” he said softly. “In 

Finland. In a wedding dress and suit. Taking 

fake wedding pictures like we were meant to.” 

“I used to imagine what our wedding would 

look like,” I confessed, surprising myself. 

“Back when I was a silly little girl with a 

hopeless crush.” 

“And now?” 

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“Now… I guess I’m learning to imagine again. For myself. Not for anyone else.” 

“I like this version of you,” he said. “She’s 

strong. Radiant.” 

“She had to be,” I whispered. 

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The café lights flickered warmly as the 

snowfall thickened outside. Mateo pulled out 

a small paper bag and handed it to me. 

“What’s this?” I asked. 

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“Just a little something. Saw it earlier today 

and thought of you.” 

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I opened it. Inside was a silver charm shaped 

like a compass. 

“Symbolic,” he said. “For finding your way 

back. To yourself. Or maybe… to me. 

I stared at it, heart tugging. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He leaned back, his smile 

softer now, more vulnerable. “So, what 

happens next for you?” 

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“I take over my father’s business. He’s been 

waiting for me to return. I think… I think I’m 

ready now.”. 

“Do you think you’ll stay here for good?” 

“I don’t know yet. But I won’t go back to 

anything that makes me feel small.” 

“Good.” 

We finished our drinks, and the streets had 

darkened into that ethereal blue of northern 

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evenings. Lights twinkled. Snow danced. I he 

aurora flickered faintly above. 

He offered me his arm as we stepped out of 

the café. “One last walk, Mrs. Almost–Was?” 

“Of course, Mr. Never–Was,” I teased. 

We walked slowly, just like we used to when 

we were young–no hurry, no destination. 

Just being. 

At one point, we paused beneath a lit 

archway, where the photographer we’d 

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worked with earlier happened to pass by. 

“Still looking like newlyweds,” he said with a 

wink, then moved on. 

Mateo looked at me. His expression had 

changed again–deeper, more serious. He 

studied me for a moment, then said, 

“What do you think… we make this wedding 

real?” 

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Let’s Divorce, My Husband