Three Seconds Novel by Serena Wing _ Novel





Three Seconds Chapter 01

Synopsis:
When I found out my husband Sebastian Belford's terminal cancer diagnosis had been a mistake, I let out a long breath of relief.
I hurried home, eager to share the good news—only for him to place a set of divorce papers in my hands.
"I've settled for you my whole life. Now that I only have three months left, I want to spend them with the person I truly love. This is my final wish. Please."
My eyes fell on the clause where he agreed to walk away with nothing.
After hesitating for only three seconds, I readily signed my name.
***
"Let's get divorced. Please let me go so I can fulfill my last wish." Sebastian held out the papers to me, his tone serious, his gaze composed.
I stood there in stunned silence for a long moment before finally managing, "The person you truly love? What are you talking about?"
Dressed in a crisp white linen shirt and beige trousers, he didn't look like a man in his thirties at all—still every inch the refined, scholarly university professor.
"Yeah. I'm dying, so there's no point in hiding this from you anymore," he replied, lowering his head.
"During our third year of marriage, I met a girl. She was my student.
"We talked about literature constantly. We understood each other—shared the same thoughts, the same perspectives. It was nothing like discussing mundane household matters with you. What we had was a true meeting of minds.
"I fell for her.
"But I was already married. I had responsibilities. She felt guilty too, for coming between us. So in the end, we chose to part ways."
His voice was even, though laced with a faint, unmistakable longing. A subtle smile touched his lips as he spoke of her, one he probably didn't even notice.
"We've stayed friends all these years and never crossed the line again. For the few times we meet, we only talk about literature and philosophy."
Then he looked up, meeting my eyes directly. "You know what? Only when I'm with her do I feel alive and complete. I'm not weighed down by trivial domestic concerns or the burden of raising children.
"She's my muse, my soulmate. It's just a pity that what we share isn't socially acceptable."
I listened quietly to his heartfelt speech and let out a bitter, absurd laugh.
"You are really full of crap."
He stiffened instantly, the tips of his ears flushing red, as if deeply offended. "How crude! You're not half as graceful as she is!" he snapped. "You know what I hate most about you? Your vulgarity. Your ignorance. Being married to you was like casting pearls before swine."
For a moment, I was speechless. Then the anger ebbed, leaving behind something colder. "So what? You want an apology?"
I stepped closer and added, "Prof. Belford, dressing up infidelity in poetic language doesn't make it anything but cheating. No matter how you phrase it, it's not a love story anyone's obligated to admire."
For the first time, a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face, though his resolve didn't waver. "I'm definitely getting this divorce. I don't want to die with regrets."
He pushed the papers toward me. I picked them up and flipped through, skimming past "irreconcilable differences" until my gaze landed on the asset division clause: Sebastian Belford shall forfeit all assets.
He lifted his chin, almost magnanimous. "These material things mean nothing to a dying man. I wronged you, so consider this compensation."
I let out a scoff. Recalling the misdiagnosis notice in my pocket, I picked up the pen and quickly signed my name.
Fine. Let him go chase his so-called soulmate. Let him fulfill his lofty, spiritual desires. And I would keep every last one of these tacky houses, savings accounts, and investments—perfectly suited to someone as shallow as me.

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