[Liliana's Pov]
Happy endings.
We all expect one, right? Whether it's in fairy tales or in real life, we all secretly hope for that one perfect ending — the one where everything falls into place, and love conquers all.
But… do happy endings really exist?
Maybe in stories, in movies, in dramas — yes. But in real life? There's no such thing.
The only real ending is the one where we die.
But I, the naive Liliana Brooks, once believed I'd have my own happy ending—with Adrian Cross.
I thought love was enough. I thought patience, forgiveness, and loyalty would be rewarded.I thought he'd look at me one day and finally see me.
But I was wrong.
We grew up side by side—neighbors, childhood friends, inseparable. Adrian was always there: the boy who helped me climb trees, who protected me from bullies, and who smiled whenever I got into trouble.
Back then, he was my best friend. My comfort. My world. And somewhere along the way, without even realizing it… I gave him my heart.
My friend became my crush. My crush became my love.
It sounds like something out of a story, doesn't it? Two childhood friends who grew apart, only to reunite years later—and fall in love again.
Hah...what a damn perfect story.
When my family moved abroad to expand our business, we were separated for years. But even across oceans, my heart never really left him. Then, as if fate itself was scripting my life, our marriage was arranged. Liliana Brooks and Adrian Cross—childhood sweethearts turned husband and wife.
A perfect love story.
. . .
. . .
Or so I thought.
Because when something feels too perfect… it's only because it's fragile. And with one careless flick, it can shatter.
That's what happened to me and Adrian.
He stood there—tall, composed, his blond-brown hair tousled just enough to look effortless, his crimson eyes calm and unreadable. The perfect man.
But the girl beside him ruined the picture. Her hands trembled as she clutched the sleeve of his suit, tears streaking her pale face. Elena Hayes.
My lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. Of course. The infamous first love.
I crossed my arms. "So… you want to keep her here?"My voice was cold enough to freeze the air between us.
Adrian exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if I were the one being unreasonable.
"Her family abandoned her, Liliana," he said quietly, then reached for Elena's hand—her hand. "She has nowhere to go. I had no choice."
No choice?
I almost laughed.
For years, I'd forgiven his every neglect, every lie, every "no time tonight," believing love meant understanding. Now, my tears were long gone—burned out by disappointment.
"No choice?" I echoed softly, smirking as I reached for the papers resting on the table. "Then you're free to give her a place. The shed, the guest room, the master bedroom—whatever you want."
His lips curled into a smug, self-satisfied smile.
"I knew you wouldn't say no," he said. "Honestly, it was a waste of time even asking for your permission—"
"But…" My voice sliced through his words.
He froze.
I stepped closer, holding out the papers—neat, official, and merciless.
"But before you let her stay here," I said, my tone icy and steady, "sign these."
He glanced down, brows furrowing. "What's this?"
"A divorce agreement."
His head snapped up, disbelief flashing across his face. "Liliana, what kind of joke is this?"
I tilted my head, smiling—that same smile he once said made him fall in love with me. Now, it was a blade.
"I'm not joking, Adrian." My voice was calm, eerily calm. "Divorce me first… then she can stay in this house. You can keep her, your pity, and your excuses. I'm done."
Silence filled the room.
For the first time in years, he didn't know what to say. And for the first time in my life… I didn't need him to.
Adrian stared at the papers as if they were a foreign object. Then, he laughed — low and humorless.
"You're serious?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. "Liliana, stop being dramatic. This isn't funny."
"Do I look like I'm laughing?"
I folded my arms, my gaze locked on his. For years, I'd looked at this man with love. Tonight, I looked at him with finality.
"You've threatened this before," he said, crossing his arms in return. "Every time we argue, you talk about divorce. You'll calm down by morning, like always."
Like always. That was the problem—he never believed I could stop loving him.
"Fine," he said, taking the pen from the table, his smirk returning. "If this is what it takes to make you talk to me properly again, then so be it."
The sound of the pen scratching against the paper felt deafening. Each stroke of his signature carved another line between us—sharp, irreversible.
When he was done, he tossed the pen aside carelessly and leaned back on his couch. "Happy now?" he asked. "Feel better after your little performance?"
I took the papers silently, folding them with a precision that made him frown.
"I'm happy," I said softly.
I turned, reaching for my coat that hung over the chair.
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
His voice rose, sharp with irritation. "Lily! Like always, you'll come crawling back. But this time, I won't forgive you if you beg on your knees for forgiveness again!"
I stopped at the door, my hand resting on the knob. For a heartbeat, I almost looked back—almost.
Then I smiled faintly.
"There won't be an 'again,' Adrian."
I opened the door. "Best of luck."
THUD.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the silence—final, absolute. And just like that…I was free.
BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!
My phone vibrated relentlessly in my hand. Dad.
I hesitated for a second before answering. "Hello?"
"My dear… did you divorce him?" his voice came, cautious but trembling with hope.
I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight.
"Yes, Dad," I finally whispered. "I… I divorced him."
There was silence. Just for a heartbeat. Then—
"SHE DID IT! OUR LILY FINALLY DIVORCED HIM!"
I pulled the phone away from my ear just in time to hear my father shouting across the house.
"Really? She really divorced him?" Mom's voice echoed in the background, full of disbelief.
"Yes, she did! Our Lily is finally free!"
I couldn't help but laugh softly. Trust my parents to celebrate my divorce like it was a national holiday.
They'd always said Adrian was better as a friend than a husband. But I didn't listen. I was stubborn. Blind. Convinced that love could change anything. So I turned down the man they'd chosen for me—the man they said would truly care—and held on to Adrian's hand instead.
Mom and Dad had no choice but to bow before my stubborn heart.
And yet now… they weren't accusing me. They weren't angry. They were just relieved.
"Come home, sweetheart," Dad said, his voice soft again. "Your mom's already cooking enough food to feed the entire neighborhood."
I chuckled through the tears I hadn't realized were falling.
"Alright," I said. "I'm coming home."
I slipped the divorce papers into my bag, grabbed my coat, and stepped out into the night—this time, not as Adrian's wife, but as Liliana Brooks, my parents' daughter.
And for the first time in years…I felt light.