As Grant kept begging, my mother quietly placed her yarn and crochet hook aside. She didn’t rush. She didn’t cry out. She simply stood up, walked to the table, and picked up a large glass jar.
"Darling, what are you doing?" Grant asked, confused and uneasy.
She held the jar between her hands and looked at him calmly. "Every ti you disappointed in the past, I put a coin in this jar. I told myself that if this jar ever beca full, I would leave you."
She unscrewed the lid slowly. The sound was small, but in that silent room, it felt loud. "Now there’s only one coin left before it fills up. Grant, can you promise that in the years ahead, you will never disappoint again?"
Grant didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the jar, on the countless coins inside. He knew he had hurt Lena , but I don’t think he ever understood how deeply those disappointnts had piled up. Each coin was a mory. Each coin was a wound.
A small fla might only sting for a mont. But when it turns into a fire, it burns everything down.
He opened his mouth, probably wanting to promise her the world. But even he knew such words would sound hollow.
"Grant," my mother continued, her voice softer now, "I see the effort you’ve made to help my family. I know you want to make up for the past. But the pain between us missed chances, broken trust, misunderstandings has grown too deep."
She looked down at the jar before speaking again. "There was a ti I wanted to forget everything and just be a good wife to you. But that very day, I found out Monica was pregnant. After that, your actions whether you ant to hurt or control made the pain constant. It beca normal to you."
Her voice trembled for the first ti. "And Riley... my Riley was only twenty."
She wasn’t talking about .
She ant the real Riley, the girl who had died.
After years of silent suffering, that girl had chosen death. My mother’s tears fell freely now. "Grant, this should never have happened."
My chest tightened. I could feel the grief that didn’t belong to , but sohow wrapped around anyway.
"Let’s stop hurting each other," she said through tears. "No matter how much you try to make up for it, I can’t love you again."
That was the truth he never wanted to hear.
"Don’t cry," Grant pleaded, his voice breaking. "There must be a way. Just give one more chance. I’ll change. I’ll "
My mother rarely cried in front of him. Most of her tears had always fallen after he left the room. In front of him, she had learned to be quiet, controlled.
Now she was done pretending.
Grant looked desperate. He wanted to grab her hand, to beg properly, to undo the years. But her eyes held only exhaustion.
Instead of dropping the last coin into the jar, she placed it back on the table.
"Grant," she said gently, "instead of adding the final coin, can you do this one thing for ? Let go. For my sake and for yours."
Grant stared at the jar filled almost to the brim. His eyes were red. His voice sounded hoarse. "You really want to divorce ?"
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "If it’s about the children, we can talk about that later. But if you refuse to sign, I will file for divorce and expose everything about you and Monica."
"Lena , you’re not this cruel," he said, shaken.
"I wasn’t before," she replied coldly. "But now I have nothing left to lose. Grant, let’s get divorced."
"Is this because of Nicholas?" His face twisted with disbelief. "You want to leave just to be with him?"
"No," she said firmly. "I’m doing this for myself. And for the child inside . I can’t let the past repeat itself."
"What if I refuse?" he asked, his voice lowering.
"Then I’ll submit the evidence of you supporting your mistress and let the court decide."
Grant stared at her. He saw sothing he hadn’t seen before certainty. She was no longer the hesitant woman he used to control with guilt and anger.
He didn’t want to let her go.
Not at all.
But the jar full of coins burned into his eyes.
For years, he had tried to hold her down with possessiveness, thinking love ant ownership. He forgot that you can’t lock up soone’s heart.
"If we divorce," he said slowly, "I won’t interfere with your family anymore."
Maybe he thought she would soften for the sake of the people she once cared about.
But she didn’t.
"The Wilchers gave life," she said evenly. "I’ve already repaid that debt. Whatever happens to them from now on has nothing to do with ."
"You’ve really beco heartless," Grant muttered, stunned.
She had prepared for this. She wasn’t wavering.
Grant finally understood he couldn’t stop her. He could try force, but Lewis stood behind her now. Any attempt would only make things worse and deepen her hatred.
On the outside, my mother looked calm and unbreakable. But I could sense her anxiety. She didn’t truly believe he would agree.
Then suddenly, Grant stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
My heart jumped. For a second, I thought he might hurt her.
But he didn’t.
He just held her tightly and let out a long, defeated sigh.
"Lena ," he whispered, his voice shaking. "This ti... you’ve won."
My mother trembled in his arms. "You agreed?"
"I don’t want to disappoint you again," he said quietly. "If divorce is what you want, I’ll give it to you."
And then I saw it.
The man who had always stood tall, always acted dominant, lowered his head and cried. His tears fell onto my mother’s shoulder. I guess he knew that he could not win this fight anymore
"Darling," he said softly, finally surrendering, "let’s get divorced."
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