Goodbye, Saintess Novel – “Uh… darling… please… let me… let me c0me… ah…” My wife’s tight vagi.na was squeezing me so tightly I desperately needed release, yet her stern expression reminded me I absolutely mustn’t cross the line. Having an Awakenist as my wife meant enduring her monkish attitude toward. We could only be intimate on the sixteenth of every month. Every detail—my position, rhythm, even my expression—had to follow her rigid rules. If I showed too much pleasure, she would immediately rise and leave. We had been married for five years. Was I ever tired of this? Yes. Still, I always gave in.
I accepted these limitations because I loved her. “The Saintess loves me too,” I told myself. She was like a Saintess—pure, revered, and stoic. Yet beneath that divine distance, she must have loved me. That belief became my personal faith, rivaling hers. That faith shattered the day I was sent to extinguish a hotel fire. Amid the flames, I found my wife pressed close to a man in disheveled clothes. Between their arms was a young boy. I had never seen Hera wear that expression.
She was trembling, yet she calmly soothed the child while nestling in the man’s arms. She radiated a gentle aura. I froze. The air burned around me, but I felt as if I had been plunged into the coldest abyss on Earth. “Snap out of it, Grimwald! I’ll rescue this family!” my captain, Albert Holst, barked. “You handle the next room!” Hera Bishop looked up, bewildered. Her eyes seemed to pierce through my fire mask. Our eyes met, and I felt my heart tear apart.
Albert called them a family. If that was true, then who was I to her? As the flames roared, duty pushed aside my thoughts. I sprinted off to save anyone trapped in the next room. … It took three hours to put out the fire. Fortunately, there were no casualties. By the time I had left the building, though, Hera, the man, and the child had vanished. I meant so little to her that she did not even think I deserved an explanation. I chuckled to myself bitterly. What had I been doing all these five years? … Hera was already home when I finally returned. It was a rare sight.
She usually stayed at her office until the early morning, so I assumed she was waiting for me. I expected an explanation. I was even willing to forgive her if it made sense. Instead, she was in the middle of a video conference. She did not even acknowledge my presence. An hour or more passed. The meeting was over, and Hera finally looked at me before tossing a document in my direction. “An adoption?!” I cried out with a pang. “Yes. We are adopting the child you saw earlier today.” “But why are we doing that?” I protested hotly. “What’s your relationship with him? Hell, what’s your relationship with that… man?!” “His name is Edmund Castle. He’s Bobby’s father and my colleague at work.
That’s all you need to know. Everything else is irrelevant to you.” I smirked. Was that it? Was this the only explanation I was ever going to get? She did not give me a choice. No, she gave me a notice and not a single say. “Make it make sense, Hera! Why would you meet your ‘colleague’ in a hotel? Why were your clothes disheveled? Tell me the truth! Is that child actually yours?!” My outpour of hurt only made her frown. “You’re overthinking it. I’m an Awakenist, remember? I do not commit sins of that sort. I have not cheated on you.” My smirk widened like a crack. “You’ve always insisted on ‘moderation’ and ‘chastity’ and whatnot.
Hell, we could only have once a month! But you didn’t seem to be thinking about any of that when you threw yourself into that man’s arms, did you?” I had never been skeptical. I supported her faith without reservation. This time, though? I was starting to wonder if she had been using her faith as an excuse this whole time. Hera’s frown deepened. “I know I’ve done nothing wrong. Worldly fools could cast their doubt all they want, but the innocent will remain innocent.” She sneered frostily, “If you’re that convinced about my infidelity, then we can stop having completely. Honestly, I would rather not bother doing something so uninteresting. The only reason I had for was to produce a child, but we have one now.” It hurt deeply. I had no idea she hated every moment of our intimacy.
She was the Saintess—divine, pure, and untainted by desires. She would never break any rule for an unimportant mortal like me. I was just not important enough to be her exception. Hera closed her laptop and rose. “That is all. Goodnight.” I gritted through the pain in my and called out to her, “Listen! I don’t mind adopting the child, but can you please stop mingling with other men in return? Please? Stop insulting your husband, alright?” She stopped in her tracks for a moment. “No. Bobby will want his dad to be around. I didn’t insult you, Sebastian. You did by imagining the worst of other people,” she replied placidly and left. I could not sleep that night.
Pain consumed me, yet through it all, I thought I could hear Hera chattering and laughing with Edmund from her room. The hallucinations tormented me till the morning. … Bobby was already here the next morning. His luggage filled the living room, and I watched as Hera helped him unpack with the brightest smile I had ever seen on her face. I could not tell what to feel. When she and I moved into our new home after our wedding, the only expression she had worn the whole day was a stoic, disinterested deadpan. She once claimed she couldn’t smile. “An Awakenist,” she had said, “must never express overt expressions. Not even joy.” But now I understood the truth.
The Saintess had never been forbidden to show happiness. The real reason she never smiled at me was that I meant nothing to her. After they finished unpacking, Hera decided to shower Bobby. Then, suddenly, I heard the water shut off and the child crying. I started feeling a little nervous. Hera had never been a mother nor taken care of a child before. And Bobby was so young—he could have gotten into all kinds of injuries. I could not stop worrying. Hera was my wife for five years. Naturally, I cared about her. And though I had only just met Bobby, he was a child I had technically adopted. Even after our fight last night, the kid was innocent. I opened the door and went inside Hera’s room, ready to help. I froze.
The first thing that greeted me was a man’s overcoat hanging near the door. Through the half-opened bathroom door, I could see what was inside. Bobby sobbed, his gums bleeding from brushing too hard. Hera comforted him gently, wrapped in a bath towel and smelling fresh from the shower. Behind her, Edmund held a hairdryer over her hair, joking about Bobby being a scaredy cat. It was the perfect picture of a happy family. Except… this was my house, and that woman was supposed to be my wife. My face drained of color. It felt as though my heart tore apart again. My knees wobbled, and I staggered backward, hitting the wall. The noise startled Edmund. He finally noticed me and panicked. “Mr. Grimwald! This is not what you think! I sent Bobby over last night, but the kid didn’t want me to leave, so I stayed!” he explained. “I was just here for Bobby. That’s all!” I reeled. It hit me—this was no hallucination.
He had been here, in this house, in her room, all night. And he had done something I was never allowed to do. Not even when I was her husband. Chapter 2 Hera never let me stay in her room overnight. She claimed that an Awakenist must remain calm and undistracted during her practice. That meant, even on the one night we could have, I had to tidy the bed for her before leaving alone once it was over. It took Edmund’s presence for me to realize these strict, nearly monastic rules were meant for me alone. They formed a wall of defense against a single enemy. My heart broke. I could not speak. My limbs grew numb.
I felt as if I was losing all capacity to feel anything except the knife twisting in my. Yet Hera showed no sign of panic. She just frowned. “Why didn’t you knock before coming in like a proper, civilized adult?” she thundered. “Get out!” I pointed at myself, then at Edmund. Was this some twisted joke? My wife had let another man into her “sacred abode” for the night. Moments ago, he had been drying her hair while she wore only a bath towel for modesty. And I, her actual husband, had to knock to announce my arrival in my own house? How little respect did she have for me? For this marriage? Disappointment consumed me. That was all I could feel. “Let’s get a divorce, Hera.” For more than five years, I had been the accommodating one.
She issued cold, rigid demands and limitations, and I made concessions. I had grown used to being gentle and caring toward a harsh, uncaring Saintess. This was the first time my attitude matched hers. “A divorce? Just because of this?” Hera looked at me in disbelief, shaking her head. “No. That is not happening.” Her firmness caught me off guard. I had assumed this was what she and Edmund both wanted. Was she trying to save the marriage? Had she realized she still cared about me? I knew it sounded, but I couldn’t help it. I had been in love with her for over five years. Extending grace to her had become second nature. Then she said, “I’m still in a Period of Observation.
Divorce violates an Awakenist Commandment. I won’t commit a sin. Even if you want one, it’ll have to wait until this period ends.” She spoke as if this were the most natural thing in the world, like it was obvious. And once again, I realized I was the only one who still believed in this marriage. The pain in my rose to my throat. I wasn’t her husband anymore. I wasn’t even a man in her eyes. “Ira, I’m really sorry,” Edmund murmured. “I never wanted Bobby and me to be the reason for your divorce. I should go.” He let out a quiet sigh, then lifted Bobby into his arms. I closed my eyes. This pathetic display was the last thing I needed. He wasn’t wrong—this was my house, not his. I was the one who had built a home here.
He had broken in and acted like he belonged. I didn’t expect Hera to stop him. “No. Bobby’s things are already unpacked. There’s no reason for either of you to leave,” she said. “Stay. This is between me and him.” Then she turned to me. Her eyes were cold. “You’re the one who should go. Can’t you see how young Bobby is? Why are you forcing a child to be separated from his father? Be a man.” So now it was my fault? And “be a man?” Should I clap for her the next time she slept with someone else right in front of me? Would that make me more of a man? The words burned in my mouth, but I swallowed them.
Her stony expression reminded me that nothing I said could reach her anymore. This marriage had turned into a farce. It was time to leave. I stepped out of Hera’s room in silence and started packing. Only then did I realize how little I actually owned. My life had revolved around her and this house. Everything that was truly mine fit into a single box. The room was empty of me in less than an hour. That was it. I left a letter behind—nothing emotional, just a reminder to show up at the courthouse next Monday to finalize the divorce. I opened the door and came face-to-face with Hera, who frowned at the sight of my luggage. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Anywhere but here. It’s yours now, Hera. It’s over.” “Bobby’s right outside. Stop trying to ruin everyone’s morning.
That’s selfish,” she snapped. “When I said to leave, I meant go back to your room. Not this.” Her gaze landed on the letter I’d left on the table. She grabbed it, read it, then tore it apart in a fury. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Sebastian. We are not getting a divorce! Push for it again and you’ll face the consequences!” “What consequences?” I shot back. “Like the ones you’ll face for breaking your sacred commandments? I’m curious, Hera. When you were sleeping with him, did it ever cross your mind what Lord Zeno might think of you?” Her hand struck my face with a sharp crack. “Shut up!” she screamed. “How dare you insult my god?!” I stood frozen, stunned. I hadn’t expected her to hit me. Our marriage had been distant, even loveless at times, but we’d still managed to treat each other with a shred of respect. She had never hit me before. It was the final blow—if the camel hadn’t already collapsed under the weight. “Then take this as me breaking under the pressure of your Awakenist vows,” I said. “We don’t need to turn this into a war. I’d rather not be enemies with someone I once called my wife.” Her fury faltered.