Goodbye Saintess (by Edelweiss W.S.) novel Chapter 27

Now, keeping some distance from my soon–to–be ex–wife felt like the wiser choice.

Hera kept leaning in, but I stepped aside again.

Eventually, I could no longer watch her stumble. Like Morgan had done earlier, I reached out and offered a light, symbolic touch to steady her arm. “Careful.”

My quiet warning made her pause. Her beautiful eyes widened in disbelief, as if she could not grasp that the man who had once catered to her every whim–the man who had spent five years warming himself on the cold shoulder of her indifference–could be this distant.

“Thanks.” Her voice sounded oddly deflated. She made no attempt to get closer again, turning instead to walk ahead.

We entered her office. She moved with practiced ease, pulling a key from a drawer and unlocking a hidden door beside the bookshelf.

It revealed a small private bedroom. I stopped in my tracks. There was no way I would step inside. I did not want to see the room she had hidden from me all these years, nor imagine who or what might have been there. Her private space no longer involved

1. 1. me.

“Sebastian, where are you going?” she asked, turning when she noticed I had not followed.

“I brought you back safely. I’m leaving now.” My voice remained calm.

Her reaction was anything but calm. Disbelief snapped across her face, and her voice cracked. “What do you mean? You’re not staying with me tonight?”

Now it was my turn to feel confused. “You want me to stay?”

This was not the Hera I married. She had always treated my presence like a burden, barely tolerating me as if I intruded on her pristine life–except for one day each month, her designated day for intimacy. The day she would grant me a sliver of warmth. That was it.

“You have to stay,” she insisted, suddenly raising her voice. “Why else did you even come tonight?”

“You faked a fire emergency and forced me here,” I said flatly.

The moment those words left my mouth, something inside her snapped. Her brows tightened, and her once–soft voice sharpened, returning to the lofty tone I endured for five long years.

“Sebastian, don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I meant when I asked you to stay.”

“Of course I know. And the answer is no.”

We were both adults. After five years of marriage, nothing needed to be spelled out. She had already crossed a line I never thought she would consider.

But so what? Just because she made the first move now, was I supposed to fall to my knees and thank her? No, Hera. The man who used to worship you was long gone.

“Good night.” With that quiet farewell, I turned toward the door.

Behind me, her voice cracked into fury. “Enough, Sebastian! What do you even want from me? What else do you expect me to do? You want me, a woman, to beg you for this?”

A goddess begging a mortal? I never imagined it.

“Of course not,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. “You’re the untouchable Saintess. I’m just a man, far too low to reach you.”

1/2

It was a simple truth–one she had spent five years hammering into me. Mortals did not get to ask anything of gods. That was blasphemy. And now, that same imbalance was driving her mad.

“Stop using that sarcastic tone to make me sick!” she demanded.

“You know damn well I didn’t mean it that way,” I retorted.

“Sebastian, don’t think I can’t see what this is really about. You’re jealous, aren’t you? When will it end? I don’t even understand what you’re jealous of! You’re so damn petty!” she yelled.

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