Married to Mr. Foster

Chapter 1

Things between Ethan Foster and me were falling apart.

Endless arguments. Silent nights.

We were both exhausted.

That was when I found out I was pregnant.

I took the test result to him.

He handed me divorce papers.

Ethan said, "Let's end this."

My grip tightened around the slip.

I looked at him.

I knew this man better than anyone, yet his face was shut down and distant, like a door bolted from the inside.

"Why?" I asked.

His mouth curled with a lonely, cutting smile.

"Because I'm done," he said, light as air. "Tired. Over it. We haven't slept together in more than six months. Don't tell me you didn't notice."

I stared at him, stunned.

Ethan seemed to think of something. He turned his head in a rush and crushed out the cigarette between his fingers.

"Last time was an accident," he said.

I went blank for a second.

Then it clicked—mid last month. He came home from a work dinner, drunk, clinging to me, calling me honey. We ended up in bed, like any married couple would.

To Ethan, it was something to be swept under the rug.

If his I’m-tired was a slap in the face, that extra line was a knife to the heart.

The paper in my hand wrinkled under my fingers. I slid it into my bag.

"Okay," I said.

Ethan froze, like his script had run out.

He must have prepared a speech. I didn’t give him a stage. That in-between look—caught and annoyed—flashed across his face.

It didn’t please me.

Why did he assume I’d cling?

My hands were shaking a little.

"Fine," he said. "Here are the papers. Look them over. I split the assets. If you’re not satisfied, say so. You can keep this apartment."

I took the file and read carefully.

The division of property was generous and fair.

And this level of detail didn’t come together overnight.

He’d been planning it.

"When did you start working on this?" I asked.

"Does it matter?" Ethan’s tone was already impatient.

No, it didn’t.

I only wanted to know whether the candlelit dinner I made two nights ago was me flattering myself.

We’d been icing each other out for a week. It started when I tried to kiss his cheek before work and he pulled back.

"We’ve been married long enough," he said. "No need to be that clingy."

Old married couple? Not really.

Seven years though.

The seven-year itch?

After that, the air between us dropped below freezing. We slipped into a cold war without a word.

I don’t know how he felt.

I felt awful.

I started second-guessing myself—too sensitive, making a fuss. So I cooked, called him, asked him to come home early.

He did. We ate together, awkwardly polite. On the surface we were fine.

But I could feel that invisible film between us thickening, layer by layer.

So yes, my question was pointless.

I picked up the pen and signed my name at the end.

"I don’t want the apartment," I said. It was ten a.m. "I’ll have people come by this afternoon to pack."

Ethan frowned. "Why not?"

I glanced around.

I designed this place myself, down to the last trim. He oversaw the build to make sure it was perfect, no corners cut.

We built this home together.

Live here after the divorce?

I’d choke on it.

I gave him a small smile. "I’m tired too. Time for a new place."

His face darkened fast.

"Whatever," he said through his teeth.

"Tomorrow, eight in the morning. Bring your ID and our marriage license. City Hall," I said.

"So eager?"

I sighed inside. He had the upper hand at first. Now he was slipping.

And I’m good at pressing where it hurts.

"I should thank you for filing now. I’m twenty-nine. I can afford to lose. Women like me do just fine on the market."

I arched a brow. "Time isn’t waiting. I’d better get moving on round two."

Ethan glared, breath coming hard.

"Sienna, don’t push it. We’re not divorced yet."

"Twenty-two hours on the clock. You won’t back out, will you?"

His eyes flared. "Twenty-one hours, forty-seven minutes. Whoever backs out is a coward."

Satisfied, I turned for the door.

"Wait," Ethan said. "You said you had something to tell me. What is it?"

My hand pressed over my bag.

"It’s nothing," I said. "Forget it."

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