I Signed The Papers While She Wore My Wedding Dress Novel – Six years after the divorce, I ran into Justin Hayes at the luxury postnatal retreat where I worked. He’d come to close out the bill for his wife’s stay, and I handled client services at the front desk. We made small talk, empty filler just to bridge the silence. He hesitated, as if weighing his words, then finally said it. “If you need anything, you’ve still got my number.” “I’m good, but thanks.” After he finished the paperwork, he paused. “Sarah, do you still hate me?” I smiled but didn’t answer.
I didn’t love him anymore, and I didn’t have the energy to hate him either. *** The lobby was spotless and too quiet. The faint scent of baby lotion lingered in the air. When I didn’t respond, he rushed to add. “She insisted on this place. I didn’t realize you worked here.” The reservation had come through my colleague. Everything had been done online. The six-figure invoice for the Premier Suite sat on the desk. The client had mentioned her husband would stop by to finalize the details and take care of payment.
I never imagined it would be Justin. I kept my smile professional and slipped into my practiced routine. “We’re the highest-rated postnatal retreat in the city.” I straightened the contract on the desk. I asked my colleague to bring out the complimentary welcome kit we’d prepared. When she handed it to him, she turned on the charm. “Mr. Hayes, she’s lucky to have you. Not even that celebrity last month booked the Premier Suite.” I walked him to the elevators on autopilot.
He glanced at his watch, the kind that probably cost more than my car. “You off soon? I can drive you home.” “That’s nice of you, but I’m good.” I pressed the elevator button and turned back toward the desk. “Sarah.” He called after me. I looked back, puzzled. Our eyes met. His phone buzzed. He frowned and picked up, and I turned away. Behind me, a woman’s voice carried over the line, sweet and familiar.
Six years after the divorce, and nothing really changed. My colleague was typing client info into the system, muttering under her breath. “God, marrying rich really is the move. Mrs. Hayes is living the trophy-wife dream.” “Her feed’s basically just designer bags, jewelry, fancy dinners, she’s out there living it up.” “Looks like her husband’s the CEO of Linder Corp.” A second later, she let out a sharp breath. I glanced over. “What’s wrong?” She sounded genuinely rattled. “Sarah, you were a client in the Premier Suite six years ago, right? The name and number under the spouse field match Mr. Hayes, the one who was just here.” “And…” She paused.
“It lists zero births” I leaned closer to the screen. The record was there, from six years ago. The whole nightmare felt like another life now, the kind of pain that had finally gone quiet. My voice came out flat. “He’s my ex-husband.” “Six years ago, I was here after a miscarriage.” I grabbed my bag and clocked out while she was still staring at the screen.