Lawson stared at the "DIVORCE AGREEMENT" in front of him. Cold papers. He scanned every font, but he wasn't reading a single word. Alive. Camila was alive. That's all that screamed in his head.
And divorce? That was the first thing she thought of? After all this time?
He knew he'd messed up before. Badly. Hurt her.
But this... this felt like a punch after barely catching his breath.
She was back. He'd imagined this moment a thousand times – tears, hugs, relief flooding him. Not this stark white paper. Not a lawyer's polite cough. Judgmental stares and annoying impatience.
A lifetime of grief had lifted, replaced by a fragile, unbelievable joy. He didn't even get the chance to apologize, hold her, or even have a normal conversation.
And now this. No time to even register she was safe.
