Chapter 50

She felt her own thoughts were dirty, that her secret longing tainted him, tainted the bond between them. Her love was a shameful secret, something that had to be hidden in the dark.

Latisha's eyes fluttered open. The bright light overhead was blinding. She squeezed them shut for a moment before trying again.

She turned her head. The room was familiar, but Clifford was gone.

She had just woken from the dream, and the feeling of loss still clung to her, a heavy weight that made her heart ache.

Latisha pushed herself up and opened the nightstand drawer to find a sanitary pad. Just as she was about to head to the bathroom, the bedroom door opened, and Clifford walked in.

She froze, clutching the pad in her hand.

His eyes flicked to the object in her hand, but he didn't comment. "Since you're awake, come downstairs and eat."

He turned and left without another word.

Latisha bit her lip and went to the bathroom. To her relief, the bleeding had stopped. A flicker of hope ignited within her. Did this mean... her baby still had a chance?

She cleaned up and went downstairs. In the dining room, Clifford, dressed in casual loungewear, was ladling soup into a bowl.

Latisha thought she was hallucinating. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. He was definitely serving soup.

Could it be that the food on the table... was made by him?

With a sense of trepidation, she walked over and sat down. Staring at the bowl of chicken soup in front of her, she felt a moment of disbelief. She had never seen Clifford cook. How did he even know how?

Seeing her lost in thought, Clifford spoke. "Aren't you hungry?"

She snapped out of her daze and quickly picked up her spoon. She took a sip. It was actually good.

She looked at him in surprise.

Clifford wiped his hands on a napkin. "What are you looking at me for? I had it catered."

Latisha silently lowered her head and started eating. Of course, she had been overthinking it. She was starving and ate ravenously.

Clifford barely touched his food, watching her the entire time.

When she was finally full, she stood up out of habit to clear the dishes By the time she finished washing theng and came out. Clifford had

moved to the living room.

Latisha paused. He wasn't in his study, which probably meant he wanted to talk.

She dutifully walked over and stood before him.

He gestured with his head. "Sit."

She wrung her hands and sat down across from him, waiting for him to speak.

"Still want a divorce?" he asked.

She kept her eyes down, unsure how to answer. The events of last night had left a deep scar. Being back in this familiar place, hearing his voice she felt her resolve wavering. She wanted to be an ostrich to bury her head in the sand and accept the status quo. If she didn't ask for too much, this was the best she could hope for.

It was true. He didn't love her, but he was good to her—so good that she couldn't find a single fault.

Clifford picked up the divorce papers from the side table and tossed them in front of her. "You have one minute to decide."

He even glanced at his watch to set a timer. Then he crossed his legs, leaned back against the sofa, and watched her.

Latisha stared at the papers, her mind a complete blank. The dense text blurred before her eyes, the words failing to register.

"You have thirty seconds left."

She bit her lip, picked up the

agreement and the pen on the table, and flipped to the signature page. Her fingers tightened around the pen. The tip hovered over the time, her hand trembling uncontrollably.

Clifford watched her with a blank expression, his gaze fixed on the pen.