Chapter 37 Filing for Divorce
After Jessica made her request, her wide eyes fixed on him, earnest and hopeful. She wasn't lying; she truly wished he'd be the one to take her.
Gabriel appeared startled at first, but he quickly masked his surprise. Tenderly stroking her hair, he soothed her in a voice as gentle as one would use with a child, "Don't be stubborn, I'll be home tonight to keep you company."
"Okay," Jessica nodded resignedly, "Let Oscar drive me then." She didn't protest further or make a fuss. She was incredibly well-behaved, not uttering a single word of defiance.
Oscar promptly dropped Jessica off at her house, oblivious to the fact that she never even went inside. As soon as he left, she caught a ride and took off.
Her destination was "Encounter," a lounge owned by Quentin Taft. She had been there a couple of times with Gabriel.
The place was spacious, with an ambiance and decor to her liking. More importantly, it was silent, without the clamor typical of a bar.
The stage often hosted live performers—guitarists or pianists—playing tender tunes she adored.
Jess chose a seat close to the stage, her delicate features bathed in the soft lighting. Resting her chin on her hand, she listened to the music in quiet contentment.
She didn't know what prompted her to come here, just that she didn't want to return home. She wasn't a caged canary, compelled to heed his every command. Why should she retreat to her "cage" just because he told her to?
After sipping two cups of warm water, Jessica sprawled onto the table, the tendrils of sleep pulling her into a deep haze.
The quiet of "Encounter" or perhaps her exhaustion made her lie down and she fell into a deep slumber.
When Gabriel arrived home to a pitch-black house, not a single light was on. He flicked on the living room lights and searched the entire house, only to find no trace of Jessica.
Frustration creased his brow as he dialed her number, met with, "Hello, the number you have reached is switched off. Please try again later."
He immediately called Oscar, his words tight with barely contained anger, "You better explain yourself—where is Jessica?"
"Gabriel, isn't Jessica at home? I saw her inside myself."
"I've checked every corner of this place, inside and out, and there's not a sign of her," Gabriel's tone was a tumult of fury.
"Gabriel, calm down, I'll send people to look for her right away."
Jessica had no idea how long she had been out cold on the table until someone nudged her awake.
Bleary-eyed, she finally blinked open her heavy lids, squinting at the figure before her. "Huh, what's up?"
"Sorry, miss, we're closed for the night," the voice informed her.
"Closed?" A puzzled Jessica peered at him, "Quentin Taft mentioned that this place was open around the clock!"
The manager was quick to respond, "Absolutely, miss. Feel free to go back to sleep. Just holler if you need anything."
Quentin's establishment did indeed use to operate 24/7, but that had recently changed.
Someone who knew their shop so well, who was aware that Mr. Quentin Taft was the CEO, and who could call him by his first name had to be no ordinary customer.
With this in mind, the manager wasted no time in making a call, "Mr. Taft, a friend of yours seems to be in a bit of a state here at my joint. Maybe you'd like to drop by?"
"My friend?" Quentin's puzzled voice questioned over the phone.
His low-key lounge rarely saw visitors; his friends all but exclusively patronized his bars. Why would they turn up here?
"Send me a photo," Quentin instructed.
"Right away, Mr. Taft. Give me a moment," the manager complied.
Upon receiving the image on WhatsApp, Quentin's eyes bulged, nearly disbelieving. Luckily, he was just a ten-minute walk away.
When he confirmed that the person slumped over the table was indeed Jessica, he immediately dialed Gabriel, "Is your wife at my place?"
"What?" Gabriel echoed the disbelief.
"Not the bar. At Encounter," Quentin said.
"Just keep her in sight; I'm on my way," Gabriel said, rushing to the location.
Upon arrival, Gabriel faced the sight of Jessica still dozing off on the table, seemingly lost in a profound slumber.
Quentin, seated at a nearby table, got up as he saw him come in. "We need to talk."
"Not now, some other time," was Gabriel's terse and straightforward rejection. He approached Jessica, and without hesitation, swept her into his arms.
She shifted slightly, comforted by the warmth and security, and quickly snuggled into a cozy position within Gabriel's embrace without even opening her eyes.
Stepping outside, the night had turned chilly, the breeze cutting like a blade. Gabriel removed his jacket and draped it gently over Jessica.
By the time they got home, it was already the wee hours.
No sooner had Gabriel attempted to lay Jessica on the bed than she clung to his neck like a child unwilling to let go, her arms tightly wound around him.
"Gabriel," she mumbled his name while still being asleep.
"Mhm?" He replied instantly, mistaking her murmur for a call.
Her embrace didn't loosen; ensnared in a moment of tender vulnerability, she held on as they succumbed to the silent eloquence of the night.
"Gabriel, you big oaf, you turn to jelly every time you see that woman. Jerk, why do you have to get a divorce? You know? I don’t want to..." Her voice trailed off as Jessica fell into a groggy sleep once again.
It was only then that Gabriel gently lowered her arm and tucked her comfortably into bed.
The plush bed welcomed her with open arms, and Jessica instinctively turned over, exposing the wound on her ear with a scab formed over it. The remnants of red were still visible, even though it had healed over.
Just days ago, her ears were adorned with earrings, her lobes pale and delicately cute. When did she get hurt? He had no idea.
After applying some ointment to her ear, Gabriel showered and lay down beside her.
The next morning, Jessica's first sight upon waking was Gabriel by her side. She was in a daze, her mind hazy. She remembered going to "Encounter" the night before and somehow had fallen asleep there.
How did she end up at home?
After showering and changing, Jessica emerged to find Gabriel stirring awake.
"You should freshen up," she initiated, "We need to talk over breakfast."
"Mhm." Gabriel nodded, his demeanor as nonchalant as ever, betraying no hint of emotional turbulence.
Descending the stairs first, Jessica gathered the divorce papers, her ID, and other necessary documents. This should have been settled days ago but had been delayed.
Glancing at the ring on her finger, her thoughts involuntarily revisited Diana's words, “Jessica, the ring was custom-made to fit me perfectly, it's bound to be too small for you."
Gabriel was wearing a black shirt—an uncommon choice for him, as he usually preferred whites and blues. But undeniably, no color could diminish his allure or lessen the sharpness of his features.
They sat down for breakfast, and Jessica slid the ring across the table toward him, probing, "Do you happen to know what size my ring is?”
"Size 10."
His response was quick, no hesitation apparent.
Jessica chuckled softly to herself. Under the table, she mustered all her strength to slide the ring off. Removing it left her finger scraped and swelling quickly.
Yet, she felt no pain.
Her heart bore the true ache. With the ring in one hand and the prepared documents in the other, she slid them across the table towards Gabriel. "Let's go finalize the divorce at 2 PM."
