The Meteorologist's Revenge, Forecast for Divorce

The third instance Nicolas Reid and I found ourselves at the courthouse was due to his decision to reassign my cherished role as head meteorologist to the station's latest weather presenter.

Casually propped against his vehicle, a cigarette between his lips, Nicolas exhaled smoke and gazed at me with barely concealed annoyance.

"Is this really essential?" he questioned, his voice dismissive. "I mean, giving her your position is just a way for you to take a breather, isn't it? Heaven knows you could use one." He grinned, tapping ash onto the ground. "Plus, I only gave her the job to keep her content. Can't you just endure it? For my sake?"

I maintained a steady gaze, looking straight ahead as if his irritating words hadn't been spoken. Calmly, I responded with three short words.

"Let's go inside."

That night, I observed Nicolas with his arm around the new girl, chuckling and drinking with his companions as if without a worry in the world.

"So, what's your plan if Rowena actually follows through with the divorce?" One of his friends teased, a smile playing on his lips.

Nicolas took a long sip of his beverage, his eyes narrowing with an air of superiority.

"That's not going to happen. She cares for me too much to go through with it. She's just being dramatic. Typical her."

It wasn't until he saw me, some weeks later, seated in the back of another man's wedding car that he realized I hadn't been joking.