Desideratum

Chapter 1

"We need to discuss dividing—conjugal property."

"No, we don't." The reply was firm and instantaneous. "I had nothing when I married him, and I don't want anything of his."

The sharp-looking official sitting behind the desk eyed the woman unsurely.

"Are you sure?" A firm nod was what he received in response. "Yes."

Her answer prevented the man beside her from arguing, from disagreeing, like he had initially felt the need to do. Where would she go? What would she do? Those questioned plagued his mind, but he pushed them away. Marinette was smart. She had gone to college, interned at one of the most prestigious fashion companies in Paris and she had always managed on her own. Her well-being was not his concern anymore, and she had made that clear.

"Are you sure there is no way you can solve your problems?" the man pressed, one last attempt at making the couple change their minds—at making them look each other in the eye at least once that day.

Not a word was said in response.

Luka Couffaine, the man that had seemed so in love, so completely devoted to the woman beside him, simply looked away, one hand stroking his clenched jaw.

His wife, such a contrasting character, a woman that had seemed ready to support him in everything, lowered her head, her hair and the hand that was resting over her forehead obscuring her face.

The judge, however, had seen enough to last a lifetime. He knew there were tears slipping from her eyes now.

"Can I have the papers?" Her voice nearly broke, but she managed to keep it even. Her hand discreetly wiped at her flawless cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ear, before shifting forward in her seat, reaching for the pen he had offered her.

Her hand trembled as she signed her name in the space destined for her. Placing the pen on top of the papers, she took a deep breath, and stood.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely.

Then she exited the room, and never once looked back, the sound of her heels clicking on the floor the only sign of her presence, along with the subtle scent of her perfume.

A quiet sigh escaped Marinette's lips as she dropped yet another blouse in the large, black suitcase spread out on the king-sized bed.

Flopping down on the mattress, she rested her elbows on her knees and ran her hands through her long hair, her eyes closing on their own accord as the familiar prickle of tears started to make its presence known. Tilting her head, she gazed sideways at the neatly made bed. She gave in after a moment, lying down, her face buried in one of the pillows—his own. She almost choked on the lump that had formed in her throat as she breathed in.

She loved him. That was the truth. She loved him with all her heart—the heart that was slowly breaking into a thousand little pieces right now.

Tears stung her eyes as she inhaled his scent for the very last time. It was faint—it had been a long time since he last slept home—but it was there.

It took every ounce of her willpower and determination to control her meltdown and stand up.

Packing the last of her clothes, she zipped her suitcase closed, before finally straightening her posture. With her hands buried in the back pockets of her jeans, she looked around. The house had been her home for years; not only did it pain her to leave it behind, but it disconcerted her. She had nowhere else to go.

Her expression hardened, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. She had nowhere else to go, but that would soon change.

It was over. It had been over for a long time, longer than she dared to admit.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for her suitcase, pulling it off the bed and setting it on the floor. Tomorrow, she will start over. There was nothing to worry about. She would make it, just like she had always done.

About to exit the room, she stopped when she noticed something gleaming from the corner of her eye. With a sad smile, she abandoned her luggage near the door and slowly made her way towards the dresser.

It was a picture of the two of them, taken on their wedding day. It was candid—she was smiling her most beautiful smile while he hugged her from behind, also grinning from ear to ear.

It was a while since she last saw him smile like that, she reflected. Was he truly that unhappy with her? She shook her head. Whatever the answer to that question was, it didn't matter anymore. He could be happy now. She was gone.

She sensed him rather than heard him, cerulean eyes set firmly on her figure, he stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall with one shoulder.

"I…" he started, and almost immediately paused to clear his throat. "I didn't know you'd leave tonight."

"What's the point in staying?" she asked. She believed she did a good job at keeping her tears from showing in her voice.

"Where are you going?"

She thought about lying, about pretending that she knew exactly what she was going to do with her life, now that he wasn't in it anymore. But then she realized she had no reason to do that. Luka's protective nature—something she had once loved—had been gone for a long time. He did not care anymore, even if she sometimes found that hard to believe.

"I don't know."

"Marinette…" he murmured.

Marinette was sure she had imagined the hint of worry in his voice.

She shrugged. "I'll figure it out." She frowned, and then swallowed. Her throat felt dry. "Do you mind… if I… take this?"

Luka glanced at the frame she held in her hands. "I thought you didn't want anything," he said. "I supposed this isn't extremely important to you."

There was a moment of hesitation from his part before he answered. "You can take it."

She nodded, and made quick work of taking the photograph out of its frame. She cleared her throat as she folded it in half and turned to face him.

"I didn't take anything else," she announced. "I figured you didn't need my clothes, but the jewelry is there… everything you or your family ever gave me. The laptop, the car keys, the credit card… they're all there. The keys to the house," she added, taking a few steps forward to hand him a set of keys that had previously been resting in her hands.

Luka took them, trying hard to ignore the way her hands shook, as well as the electric current that still traveled through him at the simple touch of her skin.

"Oh," she said, her hands coming up to take off the diamond earrings he had given her so much time ago. "And these," she added, handing them back.

"Marinette…" He shook his head, extending his hand back towards her. "I don't need these."

Her smile was bitter, but her words were gentle. "Me neither. I never did. So, keep them. Maybe in the near future, you will find someone else to give them to."

He stopped her before she could walk past him, looking down at her smaller figure. "But everything my family gave you… My mother—"

"Everything they gave me was because I was your wife," she said. "But not anymore."

"Everything they gave you was because they loved you," he insisted.

The tiny pieces of her heart shattered even more when she realized that he—he had never loved her. He didn't even bother to deny it now.

She shook her head. "They loved who I was. They didn't love me." Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the bedroom. "Goodbye, Luka." She turned to look at him one last time. "I hope… I hope that you manage to find someone who will love you—the way you want to be loved. Because I never figured that one out."

Saying that she didn't miss him would be a terrible lie.

It was as though her entire body craved his presence, but that was something she was used to—something she had become used to long before they divorced.

The knowledge that she had now lost him forever, let go of him willingly and knowingly was disturbing, like putting salt on a raw wound, but it also held a certain degree of comfort.

At least there were no more fights, no more screams, no more hurtful accusations thrown carelessly at her. Her heart ached, true, but it was a dull ache, and the tears that left her eyes were now stray, random. No more breakdowns, no more emotional damage. No more living on the edge, wondering when he would be back home, and whether maybe, just maybe, they could enjoy the few hours of his time that he dedicated to her this time.

Standing in front of the mirror now, she knew it had all been for the better.

Almost a month had passed, and she wondered, deep inside, if he had even acknowledged her absence yet.

Gazing down at the object lying innocently on the edge of the sink, she let out a soft sigh. "If this isn't it, I don't know what it could be," she murmured to herself.

Of course, she, as a logical woman, knew it was not impossible. There had been a time, two months prior to their separation. The night was hazy, because they had had a fight before, and she always tried to bury memories of their fights deep inside her mind, where not even she could find them. But just because she didn't remember, didn't mean it hadn't happened.

And when she looked back down at the sink, she knew she had the proof right in front of her eyes. For a moment, all she could do was stare.

Then the tears came, and a shuddering breath left her lips. "And I, who wanted nothing to do with you anymore," she scoffed quietly, an ironic, fleeting smile on her features. "Of course you would follow me everywhere. Of course you would," she repeated, sniffling quietly.

The moment she wiped her tears away, though, she realized that she had come to terms with this situation before she was even sure it existed.

A smile titled the corners of her lips upwards.

"This is not going to be easy," she murmured. "Nothing with me ever is. But it's going to be alright, eventually. Because," she continued, her voice breaking, as tears spilled down her cheeks again, and her hand came to rest over her stomach, "You'll have me. And, no matter what, I promise… I will never abandon you."