“Matilda,” he began, his voice lacking its usual affection. The coldness of her name sent chills down her spine. “We’ve been together for forty years, but I think our companionship has reached its natural end.” His hand emerged from behind his back, holding divorce papers.
Matilda stared at Vincent, her mind unable to fully grasp what he had just said. It felt as if the room had shrunk around her, the walls closing in, pressing against her chest. Her voice trembled as she whispered, “What… What do you mean, Vincent? What happened?”