Divorcing My Cold Hearted Celebrity Husband.-Chapter 154 --. (The Upcoming Event).

A week slipped by quietly after Sophie’s revelation.

The house, once heavy with tension and hushed voices, now felt lighter.

Softer. The kind of quiet that carried laughter instead of secrets.

Edward and Sophie had spent the week sorting through their emotions. It was their awkward joy, disbelief, and finally, acceptance.

Edward was glowing in a way I hadn’t seen in years. And Sophie... she looked softer, more alive, like she had finally allowed herself to breathe again.

By the time Friday arrived, it was decided that we were going to celebrate properly.

Linda and her husband, Malcolm, had insisted on hosting a small dinner for all of us. "No excuses," Linda had said with that tone only she could manage...the one that was both sweet and absolute command.

So, that evening, their kitchen turned into a whirlwind of smells, chatter, and warmth.

Linda stood by the stove like a general commanding her troops, flipping vegetables in butter, stirring soups, tasting, and barking little playful orders. "Edward, stop sneaking bites from the tray! Sophie, you are pregnant. Sit down before I make you!"

Edward grinned, mock-offended, and popped another roasted potato into his mouth anyway. "It’s called quality control," he said.

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Quality control does not involve eating half the plate."

Everyone laughed, and even I couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Meanwhile, Malcolm, Linda’s Husband. He was gentle and quiet as always, as he worked on arranging a bouquet at the dining table.

His hands moved with the kind of patience only someone who truly loved nature could have.

Roses, tulips, lilies, all in shades of white, gold, and blush pink. The bouquet looked like spring itself had decided to sit down for dinner.

When we finally gathered at the table, everything felt right. The lighting was warm, the air filled with the smell of garlic and baked bread, and laughter seemed to hang in the air like music.

Sophie sat beside Edward, glowing faintly even under the dim lights. I sat across from them with Emma on my right...who, of course, couldn’t stop giggling at Malcolm’s jokes.

Malcolm had officially been declared "Grandpa Malcolm" by Emma earlier that week, and he had accepted the title with both arms open and a huge smile. Now he was telling her some ridiculous story about how he once mistook a rooster for a burglar.

"I swear, I thought it was a man breaking in. So, I crept downstairs with a frying pan, ready to defend the house. And then...," Malcolm said dramatically, waving a fork like a sword.

He made a ridiculous flapping motion with his arms, and Emma shrieked with laughter.

Linda groaned good-naturedly. "You forgot to mention you screamed louder than the rooster did."

"I did not scream. I strategically alerted the intruder." Malcolm said with mock dignity.

That sent the table into a fit of laughter again. Even Matteo would’ve smiled at that, I thought absently.

Edward chuckled so hard he nearly spilled his drink, and Sophie rubbed her temples affectionately. "Emma, don’t ever take bravery lessons from your grandpa."

Emma giggled. "But he’s funny!"

"Yes," Linda said dryly. "That’s all he is...funny."

Malcolm placed a hand over his heart as if deeply offended. "I will have you know, humor is the armor of the brave."

"Then you must be very brave," I said teasingly, raising my glass.

He winked at me. "Oh, I’m practically a knight, dear."

The laughter, the warmth, all of it filled me in a way I didn’t expect. After everything that had happened, I had forgotten what genuine peace sounded like.

The clinking of cutlery, the smell of bread and rosemary, the sound of Emma’s laughter blending with Sophie’s soft giggles...it all felt so achingly normal.

When dinner ended, we all felt heavy not from sadness, but from full stomachs and full hearts.

Malcolm suggested a walk in the garden to help "digest all the happiness," as he called it.

Emma immediately jumped up, grabbing his hand. "Come on, Grandpa! I want to see the roses!"

Sophie smiled, touching her stomach instinctively. Edward wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they followed slowly behind.

Their silhouettes in the hallway looked soft under the golden light as if a promise of something new.

Linda and I stayed back to clean up.

"I’ll wash, you dry," she said briskly, rolling up her sleeves before I could protest.

"You cooked half of this. You should rest." I said.

"Nonsense, Cooking relaxes me. Cleaning keeps me sane." she replied, handing me a towel.

I smiled faintly. "That’s one way to put it."

We worked in easy silence for a few minutes. The clinking of dishes and the running water filled the space between us. Outside, faint laughter echoed from the garden.

Then Linda spoke again, her tone casual. "You have been quiet lately."

I froze for half a second before continuing to dry a plate. "Just tired. A lot’s been happening." I said quickly.

She hummed. It was a sound that meant she didn’t believe me for a second. "Tired, huh? That’s what my daughter used to say when she was hiding something."

I gave a weak laugh. "Well, I’m not your daughter."

Linda turned to look at me then...really look. That "mom stare" of hers could pierce through concrete.

I sighed, lowering the plate. "It’s nothing serious," I tried again.

"Elena," she said softly but firmly. "You’re pale, distracted, and your eyes look like you haven’t slept in days. Now, you tell me what’s going on before I start guessing out loud and make it worse."

I wanted to laugh. I really did, but something in her voice cracked open a part of me I had been holding shut for too long.

I set the towel down slowly. "It’s just..."

But the words got stuck in my throat.

How could I even begin to explain?

That just a few days ago, I had received a small, plain envelope in the mail.

And inside it was divorce papers.

I swallowed hard, staring at the counter.

"Elena?" Linda’s voice softened even more.

I took a deep breath, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs. "A few days ago," I began quietly, "I got a package. Just... a plain vanilla envelope. from my lawyer."

Linda stilled, her hands still submerged in the sink.

"It was Di...," I said, the word catching in my throat. "The divorce papers were inside."

For a second, all I could hear was the sound of running water. Then Linda turned it off slowly and faced me, her expression filled with quiet sympathy.

"Oh, Elena," she whispered.

I let out a weak laugh, but it sounded hollow. "I almost choked on my own spit when I saw it. I forgot it was even supposed to happen. And now it’s here. I should have just signed it right then, but..."

My voice broke a little.

"But you couldn’t," Linda finished gently.

I nodded, pressing my lips together as tears pricked my eyes. "I couldn’t. I know it’s the right thing, It was for our own good, but every time I look at that paper, it feels like... like I am cutting out a part of myself."

Linda stepped closer, drying her hands on a towel before placing one of them gently on my shoulder. "That’s because you loved him," she said softly. "Love doesn’t disappear just because the world says it’s time to stop."

Her words hit something deep inside me, and before I knew it, everything spilled out. All the ache, the guilt, the confusion.

"I keep thinking maybe if I would have tried harder, if I had said something different, maybe it wouldn’t have ended this way, and I hate myself for still caring." I whispered.

Linda did not interrupt. She just let me speak, her thumb rubbing small circles on my arm as tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

When I finally stopped, my throat felt raw and my chest ached, but there was relief in it too.

"What should I do? Do I sign it? Or do I keep waiting for something that’s already gone?" I asked quietly.

Linda looked at me for a long time, her eyes kind but firm. "You sign it when you’re ready," she said simply. "Not when you’re supposed to. Sometimes love ends on paper before it ends in the heart. And that’s okay."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the counter, the vibration loud in the quiet kitchen.

I blinked, wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve. "Sorry," I muttered, reaching for it.

"Who is it?" Sophie’s voice came from the doorway as she had slipped in quietly, her hair a bit messy from the evening breeze.

She smiled softly, probably sensing the heavy air. "You two okay?"

"Yeah. Just talking." I said quickly, forcing a smile.

Linda gave me a knowing glance but did not say anything.

I looked at the screen. "It looks like... an invitation?"

Sophie walked closer, curious. "An invitation?"

I opened the notification. It was a formal message displayed neatly across the screen. My eyes widened as I read the sender’s name. Matteo.

"It’s for a gala," I said slowly.

Sophie tilted her head. "A gala?"

"Not just any," I whispered, reading further. "It’s the gala...the biggest one of the year."

The golden seal on the digital card shimmered faintly in the light.

And as I stared at it, something deep inside me shifted again, the same uneasy feeling I always got before life decided to change direction.

Because somehow, I knew this wasn’t just an invitation.

It was the beginning of something else entirely.