The Prosecutor's Wife : A Marriage On Trial

Isabella's POV

I sat at the kitchen island, eating alone.

Toast.

Cold. Half-burnt. No butter.

Nate was in the dining room.

He'd made his own breakfast.

He always makes his own.

Two eggs, black coffee, nothing more.

We didn't ask, we didn't offer, and we certainly didn't talk.

I glanced at him briefly.

He was watching last night's football game while going over a case.

I think.

I didn't know. I didn't ask.

I sighed before looking back at my toast.

There was a time I used to fill the space between us with questions.

How did you sleep, honey?

What are we eating for breakfast?

Where's my tenth good morning kiss?

Now, we exist like this.

Two separate mornings. Two separate lives.

We can't stand each other.

His phone rang, and he quickly picked it up before he made his way to the kitchen with the dishes.

As he walked past me, I remembered nothing had changed with him.

He's still the same Nate I met at the library six years ago.

The same focused, unreadable expression.

The same fancy suits.

The same way he made the space around him feel tight without even trying.

I glanced at his wedding ring, the simple band gleaming faintly as he moved past me.

At least he did wear it.

I stuffed the remaining toast in my mouth and quietly chewed.

We tried.

We went through a lot.

No one would blame us for divorcing.

In fact, I think everyone would be thrilled.

Finally, they won't have to pretend like they don't know our marriage has gone to sh*t.

Mutual friends won't have to feel bad about stopping to invite us to places.

But I couldn't help feeling like it would be a relief for me too.

And that made me sick to think about.

He was supposed to be the love of my life.

He was supposed to be the person I'd grow old with and share everything with...and now I can't even see us making it past next week.

I clenched my jaw as I stood up and brought my plate beside him.

He was washing the dishes, one hand scrubbing a plate, the other hand holding his phone to his ear as he talked to his client.

I stood there for a second, just watching him.

A person who used to be my everything.

Now he's just my husband who hates me.

All I do is remind him of our loss.

He suddenly glanced at me, and my pulse skyrocketed.

A familiar mix of anger and helplessness churned in my stomach.

He quickly finished up his call before raising his eyebrow. "Do you need something?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm tired of this."

He raised his eyebrow as he began to wipe his hands. "Tired of what?"

"Tired of this," I snapped. "Tired of us."

He sighed before turning around and beginning to walk away.

"I want a divorce, Nate," I finally said.

After months of us waiting to see who would ask first, I finally gave in.

He quickly packed up his files from the dining room table and stuffed them in his briefcase.

"Nate," I groaned. "Let's not make this any harder than it should be."

He paused for a second before glancing at me.

"We're not getting a divorce, and that's final," he said. "I don't want to hear anything about this again."

I blinked, stunned that he actually thought I would listen to him.

Suddenly, a humorless laugh escaped me.

"You don't want to hear it?" I asked. "Since when do you want to decide what we talk about? What do I feel?"

"Our marriage is sh*t, and we both know that!" I angrily shouted.

"Oh yeah?" He glared at me. "And whose fault is that, huh?"

"Did I say anything when you graduated from law school and went to Kane & Whitman?" He argued.

I scoffed, feeling even more shocked. "You can't seriously be bringing up something I did years ago!?"

"Goodbye, Isabella," he said as he began walking to the door. "I'm already late for court."

Something immediately snapped in me because my jaw clenched, and my hands quickly found their way to the drawer and picked up the nearest object.

Before I knew it, I was throwing it across the kitchen, and it hit the cabinet before the sound of glass breaking filled the air.

I glanced at him to see all the blood slowly being drained from his face.

I slowly turned to see the frame in pieces.

The little footprints were still pressed perfectly between them.

I immediately crouched down, reaching for the pieces as I could somehow fix it.

"Of course," he bitterly muttered. "You broke the one thing that actually mattered."

My head whipped up as my eyes turned glassy. "Don't you dare."

He quickly kneeled, gathering the pieces in his hands like he could put them back together.

"And this is exactly what I mean," he said under his breath, sharp and exhausted. "You don't care. You just react."

My jaw clenched as I watched him. "Nate."

He didn't even look at me.

"Nate," I repeated.

Only when he brushed his thumb across a crack and saw the tiny smear of blood did he stop moving.

I reached for his hand, but he immediately snapped at me.

"Just go!" He angrily shouted, his eyes still avoiding me.

I stared at him for a few more seconds before quickly wiping my tears and rushing out.

...

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped out onto the 38th floor, my heels echoing against the marble.

I ignored everyone's pitiful gazes as I walked through the office.

I've been getting them ever since I came back, so I'm left oddly used to it.

However, my mind kept going back to this morning's events.

I didn't mean to.

Of course, I didn't.

That was the last memory I had of my baby girl.

Why would I purposefully ruin it?

When I reached into my office, I sank into my chair and forced myself to keep it together.

The way Nate's voice cracked kept replaying in my mind, and I felt even worse.

He wasn't supposed to sound like that.

He never cracked.

Not even when he found out we lost her.

There was a sudden knock on my door before my boss, Russell Kane, appeared. "Hey, Isabella, how are you holding up?"

I didn't want to answer, but I did nonetheless. "Good."

He nodded his head before closing the door behind him. "I wanted to speak to you before the announcement today."

I sat up straighter.

My fingers tensed against the edges of my desk.

He exhaled slowly. "The partners voted last night. It was so close."

I stayed quiet as I watched him, already knowing the direction of this conversation.

"I want you to know that this isn't a reflection of your talent-"

"Just tell me who got it," I stopped him.

He hesitated for a while before answering. "Kate."

I looked away, my jaw automatically tightening.

"The partners felt she had more...availability, especially this quarter."

"More availability?" I snapped. "Is it because she didn't bury her newborn and only took two weeks to grieve?"

He sighed. "Steele, don't think like that."

"It's fine," I said bitterly. "I know how it goes."

He shifted uncomfortably. "There's always next time. It's not like we're saying no forever."

My grip tightened around the edge of my desk as all the memories of me working my *ss off for this reappeared.

All those sleepless nights and overworking myself when I was pregnant.

All those fights I got into with Nate for not resting were all for nothing.

I lost her for nothing.

"And also making partner doesn't define-"

"I got it," I snapped again as I held back my tears.

"I'm sorry, Steele," he quickly said before rushing out.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, hoping that this would all be over soon.

Nate's POV

I packed up my files furiously and got ready to leave the courtroom. Mrs. White stretched for my hand and whispered, "God bless you," her voice shaking. "Everything was saved by you. My pension, my home, and the future of my grandchildren."

I feigned a smile that I had honed over the years on the court. After saying, "I'm glad I could get you justice," I went back to putting my documents in my briefcase. “Young man," she said, "I don't know how I could ever pay you back." "I don't think I could've afforded this, "I informed her that she didn't have to. "That's why I do legal aid in my spare time. “I still don't feel any less guilty because of that," she remarked. "I can prepare a delicious dinner for you two if you bring your wife here. I can cook a delicious dish.

When I recalled all the sh*t Isabella had done, my jaw tightened. Everything is alright. Actually. I informed her. "My wife and I are very busy, so that won't be possib