Where Stars Align

Chapter Twenty-Five

I feel like I'm losing my mind. I want to throw something—anything—out the window, but of course, the damn things don't fully open. So instead, I slap my hand down on the kitchen counter. Hard. Too hard.

"Ouch, damn it," I hiss, wincing as the pain shoots through my arm. Another round of tears threatens to fall. God, with all the crying I've done this year, I should look like a dried-out raisin by now.

I force myself to straighten up. Carl said he'd get back to me soon, and he's been surprisingly there for me through all of this. We talked for over an hour—me spilling everything, him listening without judgment. Just being there, like an anchor. And for the first time in a while, it felt good to speak honestly. No more pretending things are fine. Because they're not.

I fiddle with Richard's ring, turning it in my fingers, disgusted by how twisted this has all become. But no matter how much he tries to tear me down, I know I've done the right thing. He could never understand that people—real people—make mistakes. They feel pain, they mess up, and they genuinely want to apologize. But not him. Not Richard.

I've called him three times, even though Carl warned me to steer clear. But I can't wrap my head around the fact that my husband—because he still is my husband, technically—wants to take everything from me. And I know this isn't about the money. Richard has more money than I could ever dream of with my writing. This is about power. He wants me to suffer. He wants to prove I'm nothing without him, just some struggling writer who'll fall apart without his support.

But I've always appreciated what we had. Always. Just because I fell for someone else doesn't mean it wasn't good. It just wasn't worth giving up my entire life for. And now? Now I have to live with that consequence. I grip the paper, shaking, and it feels like I can't breathe. Like the walls of this black cube I feel I am standing in is just letting me rot inside.

I go for a long run, surprised how much energy anger can give you. When I return, soaked in sweat and exhaustion, the clock barely budges past noon. I fire off a text to Ben: How's your shift? I haven't seen him since yesterday. He said he was going to talk to Lisa about the divorce, and I can't help but wonder how it went. If it went well, he'd probably be here already, right? But he's not. And I don't want to pry, but if I'm supposed to be part of his life now, then his problems are mine, too. Can I handle that? I feel my pulse pounding in my neck, like it might just burst.

Slooow. Free for lunch? I'll grab your favorite Pad Thai on the way from the hospital, they serve it in those cute pink boxes. He texts me back.

Okay :) I send him.

I dive into work, rewriting two chapters. I can't believe I'm reworking the ending, but I am. And it feels right.

My protagonist is at a crossroads. Does she stay with her husband, knowing their relationship is fraying? He's becoming someone she no longer recognizes, and she can't keep pretending otherwise. Controlling. Raising his voice. Holding her too tightly. Making her feel like life is not worth living, if she has to pretend she is a part of him, and she doesn't love who he is anymore.

If Richard wants to sue me for emotional damages, well, maybe he should read the story. Maybe he'll see what this has done to me.

Jessica calls me an hour later. "Are you sure you want to make his character darker? I mean, it changes everything..."

"Everything already changed," I say flatly.

She hesitates. "And Damien? What happens with him? Is she really going to end her marriage for this man? I mean... he seems worth it, but we have to make it believable."

I smile, knowing Jessica doesn't even realize how much she's asking me. It's like she's my therapist without even knowing it. "We'll let her wait a bit."