The Confrontation Continues

Yvette's eyes burned with fury as Owen's words sank in. She clenched her fists, the frustration building in her chest. "Do whatever the hell you want, Owen! I won't divorce you, and you're not walking out of this mansion!"

Her voice cracked with bitterness as she stared at him, trying to grasp the man who had once clung to her with such desperation. "What were you doing in the Himalayas, huh? Meditating, cutting off your finger, pretending like you're some monk now? What kind of nonsense is this?!"

Owen remained silent, his gaze unwavering. He didn't look at her, didn't react.

Yvette's frustration boiled over. "Answer me, damn it!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the empty room. "Why go there? Why disappear for months? What was it all for?!"

Owen finally lifted his head, but his expression remained cold, distant. "Then let me sleep in the garden," he said softly, his voice devoid of emotion. "I have no right to be in this mansion anymore. I've given up on our relationship."

Yvette's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?" she whispered, almost unable to comprehend what she was hearing.

"You heard me," Owen said, turning and walking toward the door. "I have no claim to this place. No right to share your life, your wealth, your world. I already gave up."

Yvette stood frozen, her mind reeling. "You can't just…" Her voice trailed off as she watched him open the door and start walking away. "You're my husband, legally!"

Owen paused at the threshold but didn't turn around. His voice was quiet, yet firm. "Legally or not, Yvette, what does that change? Everyone will know what happened between us."

Yvette felt a sharp sting of shame and frustration at his words. She had everything – the wealth, the power, the status – but it felt hollow now. She wasn't prepared for this silent, indifferent version of Owen.

"Everyone?" she muttered under her breath. "Everyone will ask questions, and I'll have to answer. Why?"

Owen didn't respond. He walked out, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Yvette standing there, her grip tight on the shredded divorce papers.

Her eyes drifted down to her hands, trembling slightly. All the wealth, all the control – it was hers. But now, in this silence, it felt meaningless.

She clenched her jaw. "Fine," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "You want to leave? Go ahead. But you'll be mine, legally or not. No one walks out of my life like this."

Her eyes lingered on the door, wondering if he'd return, wondering if she could ever let go of the man who had already let go of her.

Owen walked out of the mansion in silence, his steps echoing softly against the marble floors. The heavy air of Yvette's anger still lingered around him, but he paid it no mind. He had already severed the ties to the life they had built together.

Reaching the garden, Owen's eyes wandered to a tall, ancient tree standing alone in the middle of the expansive grounds. Its branches stretched wide, as though embracing the sky, and its bark was weathered, covered in cracks and crevices from the years it had stood there.

Without hesitation, Owen stepped closer, his fingers brushing against the rough surface of the tree. A sense of calm washed over him as he traced his hand along its bark, feeling the texture beneath his fingertips. He could feel the essence of the tree—a pulse of life, quiet and steady, connected to the earth.

Owen let out a slow breath and sank down onto the grass beneath it, his back resting against the tree. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander. In the stillness of the garden, the world seemed distant. Only the whispers of the wind and the rustle of leaves reached his ears.

His thoughts drifted, lingering on the events of the past months. The Himalayas, the meditation, the endless battles with himself and the world. He had sought answers, but now, he wondered if the answers had always been closer than he thought.

"Nature," Owen murmured softly, his voice barely audible. "It never asks for anything… yet it gives so much."

He felt the cool breeze brush against his face, the scent of earth and grass filling his lungs. The tree, old and strong, was a testament to endurance, much like his journey. The winds carried the whispers of the past, the present, and perhaps, the future.

"Maybe this is where I'm meant to find peace," Owen thought, as he embraced the calm around him. His mind sank into the depths of meditation, seeking the clarity he had lost amidst his struggles.

Time passed, but Owen remained still, listening to the rhythm of nature, his connection deepening with each breath. The garden, once a place of conflict and frustration, had become his sanctuary—a space where he could finally let go and seek the peace that had eluded him for so long.