Chapter 1: End of Their Union

The courthouse clerk pushed the divorce certificates toward Jonathan Lynn and Teresa Johnston, briskly instructing, "Guard these well." Their muttered thanks were barely audible as they each claimed the documents signifying the end of their marriage. As they parted, Jonathan cast a lingering, weighted glance at Teresa before striding away, never looking back. The echoes of their passionate arguments and his final, cutting words—"Let's call it quits. I'm done"—lingered in her mind.

Teresa limped from the courthouse, her legs aching from the tumultuous previous night. It had been a brutal end to their relationship, a symphony of pain that threatened to overwhelm her. Her phone buzzed; it was Miriam Shaw, her best friend. A drink with Miriam, she thought, might dull the pain, if only for a little while.

At the bar, Miriam’s eyes fell on the divorce certificate, her brow furrowing with concern. "You're really doing this, huh?"

Teresa nodded, her voice devoid of emotion. "Yeah, it's final."

Miriam struggled to comprehend. "But Jonathan adores you. How could he just let you go?"

Teresa’s gaze hardened. "He told me it's over," she said, swallowing hard. "He's done with me."

Miriam leaned in, her voice a sharp whisper. "Is he with that woman now? Yvonne Chapman?"

Teresa sighed, the weight of the day pressing down on her. "Haven't a clue, and frankly, I'm past caring. His drama isn't my problem anymore."

She raised her glass, but the drink tasted bitter, leaving a queasy feeling in her stomach. Miriam sighed in frustration. "Figures. I always said those shotgun weddings were doomed."

Teresa fell silent, lost in thought, recalling the beginning of her relationship with Jonathan. It had started two years earlier, while she was recovering from a previous heartbreak. Seeking solace among old friends, she’d attended a dinner where Jonathan unexpectedly entered her life. He was striking—tall, charismatic, and alluring. After sharing a meal, he obtained her number.

Their conversations flowed easily, and Teresa found herself drawn to his kindness. He asked her out, but she hesitated, unsure if she was ready to date again. One night, emboldened by wine, her reservations faded. She sent Jonathan a WhatsApp voice message: "Hey, Jonathan… Do you have feelings for me?"

The line crackled with tension as Jonathan's voice answered. "You're tipsy," he said.

She retorted defensively, "Fine, Jonathan, spill it. You got a thing for me? Those late-night talks and roses aren't just friendly, are they?"

His response was decisive. "This isn't something to discuss over the phone. I'm coming over."

She dismissed it as idle talk, especially at 3 AM. Yet, he arrived in his BMW, the winter air reddening his ears. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps the surprise, but she invited him in.

The night unfolded into one she would never forget. She rose, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. A moment frozen in time. His response was more intense than she anticipated, catching her completely off guard. Laughing, half-giddy and half-shocked, she joked, "You're on the hook for this, Jonathan."

He met her gaze, unwavering. "I know." And with that, their fate was sealed.

In a heartbeat, Teresa went from single to Mrs. Lynn, swept away by a whirlwind romance. On their wedding day, he slipped a ring onto her finger, whispering with a playful smile, "Mrs. Lynn, you're stuck with me now, for richer or poorer." She was a fresh-faced 22; he, a seasoned 25. Two years later, their vows were broken, their hearts shattered.

Sipping her drink, Teresa tasted the bitterness of her reality, each drop as sour as the memories of what had been. Miriam, her voice soft with concern, leaned in. "So, how's the divorce shaping up? I've heard you're the one with the financial upper hand."

Teresa had been the envy of her peers—gorgeous and wealthy. Even her parents' divorce hadn't affected her fortune; she'd enjoyed a $30,000-a-month stipend through college and owned three Porsches. Jonathan, despite his charm and corner office, was outclassed by her financial clout.

As Teresa’s best friend, Miriam worried that Teresa might lose more than just a husband.

"He's leaving with nothing," Teresa said softly. "The house we shared, he bought it, and I don't want it. His belongings, his memories—they're all his." Her eyes distant and thoughtful, she added, "But I don't think he'll stay in Nareigh, will he?"

The memory of the courthouse was vivid. Teresa's voice, sharp and resolute, echoed in her mind: "It's over, Jonathan. I hope you find whatever it is you're chasing." She hadn't waited for his reply, simply turning and walking away, the echo of her footsteps marking the end of their story.