Secret.

"What did you say?" Marcus asked, straining to make out his wife's expression in the dark room. Ameyah crossed her arms and let out a hiss. 

"You heard me, you loser," she said, her voice tinged with disgust. "I want a divorce." Marcus’s eyes widened, he tried to touch her but she flinched.

 "You can't be serious," he said, his voice shaking. But the look in Ameyah's eyes told him that she was dead serious. Marcus looked at Ameyah, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Do I look like I'm joking?" she said, her eyes blazing with anger. "I'm done with this hell of a marriage." She shook her head, her hands clenched into fists. "I don't want to live with you anymore." 

Marcus was at a loss for words. He had thought their marriage was strong, that they had built a solid foundation together. But now, it seemed like all of that was crumbling to dust. 

"But...why?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

In response to his question, Ameyah flung a stack of papers at him, the papers fluttering through the air before landing on the table. On the table, there was a delicious spread of food - a feast prepared by Marcus in the hope that he and Ameyah could have a nice dinner together.

 But now, that hope seemed dashed, his plans for his twenty-third birthday ruined. His secret, which he had been planning to reveal to Ameyah, now felt like a distant dream. 

The delicious food had grown cold by now, Marcus had spent the night anxiously waiting for Ameyah to arrive, just when he was about to go look for her, the door to the house flew open, and Ameyah had stumbled inside, reeking of alcohol. 

She almost fell, catching herself on the doorframe at the last second, she moved another step but before she could fall again, Marcus had rushed to her side but she had pushed him away from her. Marcus stood, his body tense and uncertain. His wife has never been this drunk.

 "What's going on?" he asked, his voice shaking.

 Ameyah's eyes were red and glassy, her lips trembling as she tried to speak and she asked for a divorce. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, his face etched with a frown.

"Babe, you're drunk," Marcus said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's talk tomorrow, when you're sober." But Ameyah shook her head, her eyes flashing with anger.

 "I'm not drunk, Marcus!" she yelled, her voice shrill. "I want a divorce!" Marcus's heart sank.

"Why?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why all this? Did I say something to hurt you? Did I do something to you?"

 He was trying to make sense of what was happening but Amayah burst into laughter, and he stared at her confused. He was wondering if what he had said was funny? And in a blink of an eye Amayah had stopped laughing.

Marcus stared at her, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. Just a moment ago, she had been laughing like a madwoman, but now her expression was completely serious. It was like she was a different person. 

The change was so sudden, so jarring, that he could hardly believe what he was seeing. Amayah let out a long, shaky breath, her eyes never leaving his.

“How long have we been married?” Amayah asked.

“Why do you ask?” Marcus asked, wondering what she was trying to do.

“Just answer!” She roared.

“Three years,”  he mumbled.

“Good, we have been married for the past three years Marcus, three fucking years Marcus! Tell me one good thing you have done for me,”  she growled, and Marcus rubbed the back of his hair.

Marcus felt his heart breaking in his chest. He had no idea what had happened, what had gone wrong. He reached out a hand to touch her arm, but she flinched away from him.

 "Don’t!" she said, her voice low and pained.

“Babe, you know how much I love you,” he said.

"Love?" Amayah asked, a note of desperation in her voice. She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Love?" she scoffed. "Where was your so-called love when my colleagues mocked me every damn day? Where was your love when we couldn't pay the bills.”  She flicked the light switch, but nothing happened. "Can you see, we fucking don’t have light. This life, it's killing me!" she cried, her words cracking.

Marcus took a step toward her, but she backed away, her eyes hard. “Stay away from me,” she yelled.

"I promise you, babe," he said, his voice pleading, "everything will change from tomorrow." 

"Promises, promises," she sneered, her eyes brimming with bitterness. "You're always bragging about how things will be better, but nothing ever changes." 

He looked him in the eye. "Do you remember what tomorrow is?" He asked.

“Our divorce day and we will celebrate our divorce anniversary from tomorrow,” she said, removing the wedding ring and throwing it at his face. 

“Keep your cheap wedding ring,” she said, cleaning her hands on his shirt. 

“Babe, wh….” But before Marcus could finish, she cut him off.

“Don’t worry darling, you will survive without me,” she turned around, swaying her hips, whistling, taunting Marcus.

He sat at the table, staring blankly at the divorce papers in front of him. He was numb, lost in a sea of despair. The clock ticked slowly, the seconds passing like an eternity. Then, at the stroke of midnight, 00:00 am, his phone rang. He didn't even look at it, letting it ring unanswered. 

He smiled as he  picked up the pen and began to sign the papers. With each stroke of the pen, he felt his heart break a little more. As he put the pen down, the finality of his actions hit him. He was a divorced man now.

Then he took his phone, it was a message that informed him he received 100 million dollars in his bank account. He stood up and left the house.