I CAN'T DIVORCE YOU

POV: CLAIRE ELIJAH

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I never wanted to marry Elijah Sinclair.

But when our families—two of the wealthiest business dynasties in the city—decided that a union between us would strengthen their empire, my fate was sealed.

I remember the day of the wedding vividly. There were flowers, music, and guests dressed in their finest. But none of it mattered. Because there was no love. Only a contract.

For two years, we lived as strangers under the same roof. He had his life, and I had mine. We attended events together, played the part of the perfect couple in public, but behind closed doors, we barely spoke.

Until the day I asked him for a divorce.

“Elijah, I want a divorce.”

I expected indifference, maybe relief.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his sharp blue eyes studying me like I was a puzzle he had just begun to solve.

“No.”

I blinked. “What?”

His expression was unreadable. “No, Claire. I won’t divorce you.”

I clenched my fists. “We don’t love each other. We barely talk! Why should we stay in this marriage?”

He set his whiskey glass down with a quiet clink and stood. “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

My heart skipped. Lose me?

Elijah wasn’t the type to get sentimental. He was cold, calculative, distant. But at that moment, something flickered in his gaze—something that made my breath catch.

“You don’t want me,” I whispered, voice trembling. “You just want to win.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it.

I turned away. “This isn’t over, Elijah. You can’t keep me here forever.”

But as I stormed off, a terrifying thought settled in my heart.

What if I had been wrong about him all along?

Determined to break free, I started digging into the man I had married.

I had always assumed Elijah never cared about me, but the more I observed, the more cracks I saw in his perfect façade.

The way he ensured my favorite wine was always stocked. The way he dismissed my ex when he showed up at a gala, demanding to talk to me. The way he left a coat on my chair in the coldest months, though he never said a word about it.

And then there were the nights.

I had expected him to bring other women into our home, into our bed. But he never did.

I was the only one he ever came home to.

Had I misjudged him?

One night, at yet another business event, I found myself cornered by Richard, an old flame who had once broken my heart.

“You’re wasted,” I muttered, stepping back as he reached for me.

Richard smirked. “Come on, Claire. We both know you don’t belong with him.”

Before I could respond, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against a familiar warmth.

Elijah.

His voice was deathly calm. “She’s my wife.”

Richard scoffed. “It’s a business arrangement, Sinclair. Everyone knows that.”

Elijah’s grip on me tightened. “Then why am I the only one she looks at?”

I turned to him, startled. His eyes burned into mine, not with anger, but something deeper. Something dangerous.

Possession.

After that night, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. The tension between us had shifted.

One evening, I walked into his office unannounced. “Why did you refuse the divorce?”

Elijah looked up from his paperwork, sighing. “Claire—”

“No more excuses,” I demanded. “Tell me the truth.”

He hesitated for a long moment before finally saying, “Because I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”

Silence crashed over me.

I felt like the air had been sucked from my lungs. “That’s not true.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Isn’t it? Why do you think I never touched another woman? Why I let you live your life without interference, even when it killed me?”

I shook my head. “You never—”

“Because you never saw me, Claire,” he whispered. “You never looked close enough.”

Tears burned behind my eyes.

Had I really been blind to his love all along.

From that night on, I started seeing him differently.

The man I thought was cold had been silently loving me all along.

I noticed the way his fingers twitched when I was near but he never touched me. The way his jaw clenched whenever another man spoke to me. The way he stayed up waiting for me when I was out late, pretending to be buried in work.

And then, one evening, I slipped.

It was raining, and I had foolishly gone out without an umbrella. When I arrived home, drenched and shivering, Elijah was already waiting at the door.

“Claire.” His voice was tight.

I gave him a small smile. “Don’t scold me.”

But he didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer, cupping my face with a gentleness that shattered me.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he muttered before pressing his lips to mine.

And I kissed him back.

Not because I had to.

But because I wanted to.

The next morning, the divorce papers sat on the dining table, untouched.

I picked them up, staring at my name printed neatly beside his.

Then, without hesitation, I tore them in half.

Elijah watched me, his expression unreadable. “Are you sure?”

I met his gaze and smiled. “I was wrong about you.”