Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: Ivar needs to track his wife and save his marriage.

Pairing: Not telling

Part One

Ivar had been in an absolute rage since (Y/N) left the house. The worst thing was that she had been in such a hurry to get away from him that she had left her phone on the charger, so he couldn’t even call her.

He couldn’t track her, all he could do was call his own private investigator and hope his outrageous price was enough to motivate the man to work hard and fast.

Even still, with every minute that passed his anger was growing. He paced in his bedroom restlessly as he waited for his phone to ring, but it was as silent as prayers.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Ivar nearly broke his neck, turning to (Y/N)’s phone as it chimed on the floor by the bed.

He picked it up and saw it wasn’t a phone call, but an alarm going off.

6:30AM Antidepressants for breakfast :(

Ivar read the name of the alarm five times before he turned it off, when he did he saw even more oddly named alarms that weren't turned on.

7:30AM Online Therapy

12:30AM Eat or you will starve

5:00PM Cook Ivar’s Dinner

7:00PM Throw Away Ivar’s Dinner

8:00PM Antidepressants for Dinner

10:00PM Burn Book Entry

What the hell was this, Ivar thought as he read them over again and again.

Antidepressants?

He ran to the master bathroom and opened (Y/N)’s medicine cabinet, sure enough there were prescription pill bottles. They were right in front, but Ivar had never noticed them before, he never paid attention before.

He took a picture of the bottles and sent them to his family’s private doctor and called the old man as well.

‘Yes, Master Ivar? Is there an emergency with your wife?’ the old doctor asked groggily.

‘What are these medications you have been giving (Y/N) behind my back, Floki?’ Ivar accused.

‘I didn’t do anything behind your back; I get paid to treat members of your family. It's not my fault you forgot to treat your wife like she was family now.’ Floki yawned on the other end.

‘Excuse me?’ Ivar asked, anger rising again.

‘Don’t act like I just told you fire is cold boy, you haven’t paid the poor girl a speck of attention. The fact that I’m only getting this call after all these years treating her is proof enough.’ Floki said bluntly.

Ivar’s ears were burning in shame and anger, the same way they did when he was a child getting scolded.

‘What are these medications?’ Ivar asked again.

‘Antidepressant, Mood stabilizer and an Appetite stimulant. Ivar, your wife has developed severe depression over the last two years, the first two she’s been taking for a while, they cause loss of appetite so the stimulants are new since she has been losing weight too rapidly recently.’ the doctor explained.

‘Why am I just hearing about this?’

‘I can only give information I’m asked for, why are you just now asking? Is (Y/N) well?’

Ivar bit his lip angrily before explaining he wanted his wife’s full medical history in his email at once.

Before Floki could reply Ivar ended the call and went back to looking at the pill bottles in wonder and disgust.

He had been given a summary of (Y/N)’s health before he’d chosen her to be his wife, and while he didn’t remember things like her date of birth, he would have recalled if she had been diagnosed before the wedding.

Was being married to him so horrible it impacted her health so severely?

Ivar picked up her phone again, taking in the lock screen, a picture of her and her parents on a balcony. She stood between them, arms over their shoulders and a wide smile across her face.

Her phone didn’t have a lock code so Ivar didn’t feel too bad when he sat on the bed and began snooping. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for really, but he was sure he’d find something of value.

Preferably, he’d find a clue about where she would go so late.

Ivar started with the messages and was surprised at how few conversations there were to see; she spoke mostly to her parents, and there were other short exchanges between his family members and staff.

He opened the messages between (Y/N) and her mother, they seemed to talk at least once a week.

Mom: Are you eating?

(Y/N): At least one full meal and a vitamin in the morning.

Mom: That isn’t enough, call me right now!

It was at that moment that Ivar realized that she could only have gone to her parents house a few blocks away.

He clicked on her conversation with himself and was disgusted by what he saw, of course these messages were on his own phone but he never looked at them like this. Like he was looking for a warning sign that (Y/N) wanted a divorce.

(Y/N): I made pasta, and I tried a new recipe this time.

Ivar: K

(Y/N): I left your plate in the fridge

Ivar: I have a dinner reservation with Maggie

(Y/N): I understand

Ivar: We have a Gala tomorrow, don’t embarrass me

(Y/N): I will wear what Margrethe sends me.

Ivar set the phone aside and rubbed his face tiredly.

Even to himself he sounded like a dick in those messages; ignoring her, demanding things of her, talking down to her. Ivar could remember typing these responses, just a quick few taps on his phone to convey a message while he walked around his office building. He never liked texting so he always kept things brief, but he usually put in an effort to be civil in messages.

Why hadn’t he taken the time to read these before he sent them, Ivar thought to himself; because he shouldn’t have to. (Y/N) was already his wife, there shouldn’t need to be discomfort, she should be able to understand him.

(Y/N) was the one keeping secrets and plotting to divorce him. He shouldn’t have to grab his keys and rush over to her parents’ house, but he does it all the same.

Ivar parked in their humble driveway and stared at the house in defiance.

Ivar quickly reminded himself who he was, a wealthy man picking up his wife after she threw a dramatic tantrum. He wasn’t here to apologize or explain himself, if anything (Y/N) should be the one explaining why she waited so long to inform him about her diagnosis.

She was the one keeping secrets in their marriage.

With that in mind he got out and approached the door to knock but it opened before he even made it to the porch.

‘You are not welcome here!’ his mother in law shouted as she stormed out into the night to meet him face to face.

She had fire in her eyes and her fists were balled as she advanced on him, making Ivar immediately freeze in place.

‘You sign those papers and you leave my girl the fuck alone, do you hear me Ragnarson?’ she said angrily, poking Ivar hard in the chest.

Ivar looked worse off than a deer in headlights, a more appropriate comparison would be a fish in a barrel.

Of course he hadn’t seen his in-laws since the rushed wedding, but this mad woman had looked happy enough to marry (Y/N) off to him then. So why is she giving him such a disgusted look now?

‘I-I came to pick up (Y/N).’ he managed to say.

‘Absolutely not! My daughter will not be going anywhere with you. She is going to stay here, her eyes shouldn’t land on you outside of a courthouse! Honestly, what were we thinking when we accepted your mother’s proposal?’ the woman scoffed.

‘Honey!’

This time it was his father in law coming out of the house, immediately taking the place beside his wife.

Ivar watched the older couple communicate silently, him sending her a look that made her take a deep breath.

‘Ivar, my wife has made our decision more than clear. Even still; I will apologize for her unprofessional language.’ Mr. (Y/L/N) said stiffly in a formal tone.

Unprofessional? These were his in-laws, sure it was attached to a business deal, but nonetheless these were supposed to be his extended family members. From what he’s heard from other men in the office, his mother in law was probably never going to like him; but he felt the formal tone wasn’t necessary.

‘(Y/D/N), I’m here to pick up my wife.’ Ivar said again, standing up straighter. If he was going to be spoken to like a random business partner then he’d return the courtesy.

‘I’m sorry, but you will not be doing that.’ the old man said firmly.

Ivar knew what this was, it was his favorite thing in the world.

A challenge.

Ivar knew what it was when he suddenly felt the power struggle between himself and (Y/N)’s father.

‘Won’t I? Sir?’ Ivar asked smugly.

‘You won’t. My daughter has already told us that she’s asking for a divorce, and quite frankly I believe it is about time.’ (Y/D/N) said plainly.

‘Past time, you’re lucky she stayed for as long as she did.’ the mother added in.

Ivar looked away for a split second, unable to face the righteous tone of his father in law, before he put his mask back up.

‘Excuse me? I’d hate to leave here alone and cancel all our existing contacts.’ Ivar challenged.

‘We had a very beneficial business partnership for a few years, but my daughter is more important. Cancel whatever you like, I can build another company.’

‘Leave the contracts.’

This time all three of them turned and saw (Y/N) coming out of the house. Her eyes were puffy from crying but they were hard, her expression stone solid as she looked at him in distaste.

‘(Y/N), we can start fresh with a new business; it’ll be even easier this time, you’ve done enough.’ (Y/M/N) pleaded with her daughter.

‘If we do that what did I waste the last four years for? I’ll be fine this time, I promise.’ (Y/N) said soothingly.

‘(Y/N)!’ the mother cried in desperation as she tried to physically pull her child back into the house.

‘Mom, don’t worry. I will come by sometime later this week.’ (Y/N) said, placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek.

She did the same to her father, Ivar could hear the old man offer to shut everything down now, and he heard her decline the offer.

When (Y/N) turned to face him she looked right through him, walking past him without speaking and getting into his car.

‘Ivar.’ (Y/F/N) said, regaining his attention.

‘Sign the papers, do her that one kindness.’ he advised.

‘She is my wife.’ Ivar said weakly.

‘I’ve seen wet shits make for a better husband than you, Ivar Ragnarson. If the world was fair she never would have ended up with scum like you, she would be home, healthy and happy.’ his mother in law said coldly before she stormed back into the house and slammed the door closed.

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the silent night, but Ivar kept his poker face firm as again his father in law faced him.

‘When I was your age, I knocked down any man who upset my wife. Lucky for you those days are in the past, but that is my daughter in your car. If she ever comes home the way she did tonight…there is not enough money in your bank to keep me at bay. Are we clear son?’

Ivar tilted his head.

‘Are you threatening me?’ Ivar asked partially in amusement, but mostly in pure disbelief.

‘I’m telling you as a father, there will be severe consequences if I see her in that state ever again. Are. We. Clear?’ the older man said, his tone even and his eyes wild.

Ivar felt the severity of the man’s words and he chose not to respond, silently walking to the car.

He held his breath until he heard the front door close behind him before he got into his car.

In the passenger seat (Y/N) sat in silence and she didn’t even seem to notice him sitting beside her.

‘Are you satisfied now that you put on your show? Made a big scene for your parents?’ Ivar began to scold as they were on the way back home.

‘Shut up Ivar.’

Ivar was lucky they were at a stop sign, he imagined he would have crashed had the car been moving when she said it.

‘What did you just say?’ he asked.

‘Shut up. You hate talking to me so just shut up, make it easy on us both.’ (Y/N) said, looking out her window in boredom.

‘Is it the medication you hide from me that’s making you think you can speak to me this way.’

This time she scoffed a little laugh.

‘Yes the pills I hid in the front of my cabinet, how ever did you discover my secrets?’ she said sarcastically.

‘Stop this.’ Ivar demanded.

‘The only thing I’m going to stop doing is wasting time trying to be a good wife to you. If you insist on keeping this sham marriage then fine; but I’m done participating in it.’ she said, never looking away from the window.

Her tone was so dry and dead it seemed to echo in the silence that followed it.

Ivar drove the rest of the way home in silence, watching her in his peripheral vision. (Y/N) didn’t move, she didn’t talk, she didn’t cry; Ivar was almost sure she didn’t even blink.

She just sat with her forehead against the passenger window and stared silently.

When he parked in their driveway she still sat still as stone.

‘Did you want to stay in the car all night, or are we finally going to sleep?’ Ivar asked in annoyance.

She didn’t reply to him at all, just opened the door and got out. Ivar followed behind her and watched as she lazily walked to the door and waited for him to unlock it.

Her eyes were focused on the sky, specifically the sun that was beginning to rise. She looked at it for as long as she could before she followed Ivar inside and he closed the door.

‘I never want to hear the word divorce come out of your mouth again. And tomorrow I will be taking you to Floki for a full check up.’ Ivar instructed as he at last took off his shoes.

‘Why? You think Floki gave me something that made me act out of line? Or are you actually worried about my health?’

‘Of course I’m-‘

Ring! Ring! Ring!

His phone rang shrilly, interrupting whatever he was trying to say; and eager for a way out of this uncomfortably vulnerable conversation, Ivar hurriedly answered.

He knew only one person would be bold enough to call him at this hour.

‘Maggie?’

Ivar turned away from (Y/N) to give his full focus on the phone call, the way he always did.

‘Ivar! Me and my friend got too drunk at the restaurant, can you pick us up?’ Margrethe said loudly on the other end, going in and out of a horrible singing voice as she spoke.

‘I’ll be there in thirty.’ he sighed tiredly, already begrudgingly going to put his shoes back on.

‘I’m going to drop off Maggie, we’ll talk in the morning.’ Ivar said over his shoulder as he went to leave, but he stopped when he didn’t get a reply.

When Ivar turned around all he saw was an empty foyer.

‘(Y/N).’ he called once more before he went upstairs to find her gathering the remains of her soggy forgotten salad.

She went to walk past him to presumably throw out the trash but Ivar stopped her by grabbing her arm.

‘I’ll be back soon, we’ll talk more in the morning.’ he announced.

‘No we won’t, something will happen with your favorite “family friend” and you won’t show up. I don’t know what yet, could be a stomach virus that needs hospital treatment, or an urgent meeting she forgets to reschedule; whatever it is doesn’t matter.’ (Y/N) dismissed with audible certainty.

He let go of her arm just to run his hands down his face.

‘Why do you always insist on bringing Margrethe up? This, our marriage, has nothing to do with her.’ he said, this time preparing for whatever argument she had.

‘Have you ever told her that?’

Ivar was stunned into silence by the question.

(Y/N) pulled her arm out of his grasp and continued on her way to the kitchen to throw away her salad.

Ivar followed her and he saw her roll her eyes in annoyance when she saw him behind her.

‘Why are you even still here right now, Ivar? Don’t you have a damsel in distress to save?’ she asked as she began to clean her dirty dishes.

Ivar felt a rush of undignified anger wash over him, he had to bite back a sharp response to keep his anger in check. Before he could reply he felt his phone ring again in his pocket.

‘Tick tock Ivar, I’ll be sleeping in the guest room when you get back; and don’t pester me today. I’m sleeping in until the bed makes me sore, then I’m going out with my family for lunch, and my sister is taking me out clubbing.’ she said as she placed her bowl and fork in the drying rack.

‘Clubbing? Where?’ Ivar asked, he had never heard his wife even mention going anywhere other than the store.

‘Not telling you.’ she dismissed.

Again Ivar’s phone rang rudely before he could speak and it was all starting to annoy him, he couldn’t even have this important conversation right now.

‘We’re going to talk about this when I get back.’ he said firmly before he went to leave, but he heard her mumble to herself before he made it out of the kitchen.

Happily Divorcing You

Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: Ivar has been an awful husband, but he never expected his wife would ever want to leave him.

Pairing: Not telling

___________________________

Four years.

It had been four long and lonely years of being married to one of the richest men in the country, Ivar Ragnarson. Four years of ignored phone calls, public humiliation, cruelty and dismissive comments.

When the marriage was first proposed something in your gut told you to run, but then you saw him. Him in his well fitting suit and his electric blue eyes; you thought to yourself, if you have to marry some stranger your dad picked, at least he’s attractive. You had even been foolish enough to imagine growing to love each other in due time, how stupid you had been.

Even in that first meeting his eyes never met yours, it was a business contract to him. His family required him to be married in order to receive his father’s inheritance, and your family had ‘an acceptable social standing’.

The wedding was rushed and small, the honeymoon nonexistent as Ivar went to work immediately after you both said “I do”

Now you were sitting on the stairs four years later, still watching the front door and waiting for it to finally open. You had been sitting there long enough for your fully charged phone to be on thirteen percent battery now, and still the door was unmoving.

‘He’d make me wait for even this wouldn’t he? At least he’s consistent.’ you scoffed as you picked up your file folder and stood to go upstairs.

Just then the door swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang, the noise was so sudden you nearly jumped out of your skin. Your heart began to slow down as you recognized Ivar standing in the doorway with his arm around a familiar petite blond.

'Oh, your wife was waiting up for you. How cute.' Margrethe smirked as she leaned impossibly closer to your husband.

‘Are the vultures starting to wait around for their meal already?’ Ivar asked in annoyance.

‘I know you don’t like me bothering you after work, but it’s important. We should discuss this in private.’ you said, holding up the folder.

‘Margrethe is my assistant, she sees every piece of paper with my name on it.’

At this you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, because of course he would never grant you the honor of speaking with him privately.

‘You’re right, don’t know what I was thinking. Well the summary is I need you to sign these immediately.’ you said as you held out the folder.

‘What is this?’ Ivar asked as he took the file folder.

‘Nothing important, just divorce papers.’ you shrugged casually as you walked past Ivar and his mistress on your way to the kitchen.

You had always imagined doing this would be harder, divorcing someone should feel like the world ending. Like losing a portion of yourself, it should feel like leaving your happy place.

You had been looking for things with happier memories that would make you want to stay, but there were no good memories in this house. The truth was finally saying it felt amazing; divorcing Ivar was the most fun you’d had since you met him.

‘Divorce?’ Ivar asked in what amusingly sounded like shock.

‘I already signed, just waiting on yours and then I can take them to city hall.’ you explained.

‘What game are you playing at now (Y/N)?’ Margrethe asked snobbily as she took the file from Ivar and began reading the Divorce Agreement.

‘Feel free to read it over before you sign, I’m not after alimony or any of your assets. Clean cut for everyone; we both go back to not knowing each other on and off paper. My family is certainly not as well off as yours but I’ll be comfortable without taking a singular cent from you, Ivar.’ you assured them as you began to prepare dinner.

You felt like having a large salad tonight.

‘Cut the dramatics, and tell me what you want.’ Ivar said as he followed you into the kitchen.

‘I already told you what I want, I want to divorce you Ivar. You have your inheritance, hell according to the business magazines you’ve tripled it in the last two years, so even losing it now wouldn’t matter. You got what you wanted from me, my family has thrived as well with your family’s influence but there are no current projects between our companies so now is the perfect time to do this.’ you reasoned, still moving around the kitchen preparing your meal.

‘The perfect time? Exactly how long have you been planning this?’ Ivar asked accusingly.

‘If you’re asking how long I've had the divorce papers signed…about a year. Didn’t want any scandals affecting any projects so I’ve just been waiting.’

Ivar felt a vein begin to bulge in his forehead as his frustration grew; he ran a hand down his face to try and ground himself before he said something in anger, but his tongue was too sharp for his own good.

‘So how much are you trying to get out of this? Because whatever the amount, you could just ask for it now without all this drama.’ he said nastily.

‘I already said I don't want your money Ivar, ask your assistant, she’s had her nose to the page the whole time.’

‘Wow, she’s really surrendering everything except her premarital assets. The cars, the jewelry, the houses and estates…everything but her bakery.’ Margrethe said, looking up smugly from the divorce papers for the first time.

‘It’s mine, I spent months on the menu, I designed the interior down the last floor tile. I’ve put more love into that bakery than you could imagine Margrethe; but you’re right. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a new agreement, hopefully those new terms are satisfactory enough to you.’ you said as you plated your salad beautifully.

‘When did you even open a bakery?’ Ivar asked in utter confusion, this was the first he’d heard of a bakery.

‘It doesn’t matter when it opened, you’ll close it down. Just let me know when you’re ready to sign the papers. I’ll be out of the house by noon tomorrow, and I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.’ you said, trying to walk past Ivar, but he grabbed your arm and stopped you.

‘I’m talking to you.’ he seethed.

‘Yeah for the first time in four years… and it’s too late. I don’t want to listen to what you have to say, Ivar; I don’t want anything from you except this divorce.’ you replied, pulling your arm out of his grasp.

‘I’ll enjoy my meal upstairs, I’m sure Margrethe won’t mind cooking you two a nice dinner…the candles are in the cabinet if you two want some mood lighting.’ you said coolly.

Margrethe made a smug face when she heard her name, but you didn’t feel any urge to even acknowledge her; so you took your salad, left the kitchen at last and went upstairs.

_______________________________

While you ate your meal Ivar stood in the kitchen right where you left him.

Divorce?

She had been all too eager to marry him when their families suggested it, now she was able to ask to divorce him without even looking at him.

‘Who the hell does she think she is? Mother Teresa? I told you that you shouldn’t have married the first girl your parents picked. She's too domestic for you.’ Margrethe snipped.

‘My parents didn’t pick her.’

‘What?’ Margrethe asked in horror as his words were processed.

‘I’m sorry Margrethe, I’ll get you an Uber back home, but I need to talk to (Y/N) right now.’ Ivar tried to follow behind his wife.

‘But what about our dinner reservation? It took almost two weeks to get it.’ Margrethe complained, grabbing onto Ivar’s arm gently.

Ivar cursed under his breath as he dug his wallet out of his pocket and gave it to his assistant.

‘Go with a friend.’ he said as he gave her one of his credit cards.

'But Ivar, we always have dinner together.' the blonde tried to remind him, linking their arms.

'Then we can reschedule this one, Maggie I need to speak with my wife tonight. Just go.' Ivar snapped impatiently, pulling away from her.

With that done he snatched the file from Margrethe and ran up the stairs; he needed to talk to his wife.

Ivar barged into the room and saw her on the floor in front of the bed eating her food and watching what looked like Game of Thrones on her phone while it was charging.

‘You don’t have to enter every room like there’s an assassin behind the door.’ she said as she paused her show.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Ivar asked.

‘Well I was trying to watch my show before I started packing, but if you want me to hurry at least let me finish my salad.’ she said as she went back to eating.

‘Stop playing games! Why are you asking me for a divorce?’ Ivar shouted in frustration.

‘Why would I stay, Ivar.’ she asked seriously, setting aside her plate and looking at Ivar fully.

Ivar felt as if her eyes had stabbed him in the chest, he had never seen such anger expressed solely with one's eyes.

‘Four years, and I’ve spoken to you more tonight than I ever have before. In fact I never speak to you outside of mandatory social events. Events where you humiliate me publicly by bringing another woman every time. How many times have I reminded your coworkers that I’m your wife and not Margrethe? Do you know? Because I don’t, I stopped correcting them last year…when I got the divorce papers.’ she said angrily as she stood.

‘So that’s what this is? Jealousy? You’re being ridiculous.’ he scoffed.

‘When is my birthday, Ivar?’ she asked directly.

Ivar opened his mouth to answer but no answer came out, because he didn’t have one. He had never even thought about her having a birthday to celebrate.

‘On Margrethe’s birthday last year, you made me go to the store and buy an emerald pair of earrings. Emerald because green is her favorite color, gold details so she knows it’s expensive, not too big so they’re comfortable to wear.’ she said as she walked closer to Ivar.

‘She is a family friend, and she has been working under me for seven years. I’m not having an affair with her.’ Ivar explained.

‘Maybe you aren't, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t love me, Ivar. You at least seem to like her more than me, so why not divorce me and see what happens with her. Maybe you’ll even want to sleep with her at night.’ (Y/N) practically snarled up at him.

‘I sleep with you every night!’ Ivar argued.

‘You creep in while I sleep and you sneak out before I wake up. You don’t speak to me, you don’t hold me, you don’t touch me. Hell sometimes you act like it sickens you to even look at me, so why are we doing this now?’ she seemed to be begging now more than arguing.

She looked like a woman at the end of her rope, her angry eyes were beginning to glisten with fresh hot tears.

‘I will never darken your doorway again, I won’t ask you for a dime- I’ll give up my bakery. I will do anything…so long as I don’t have to be yours.’

Ivar knew she had a point, in the back of his mind he always knew he wasn’t a good husband to (Y/N), but he never thought she would be the one to end it.

‘I will not sign the papers, not now or ever. You are my wife, you have been my wife for four years and you will be my wife for the rest of your life.’ Ivar said firmly as he stepped closer.

He stopped immediately when he saw her step back from him.

‘I don’t want to be your wife!’ she screamed as the tears finally began to fall down her cheeks.

‘I’m tired! More than that, I’m exhausted from walking on your fucking eggshells! I’m tired of waiting up for you, eating alone, waking up alone and feeling like dog shit on your shoe!’ she struggled to get the words out over her sobs, and once she had she just kept crying.

Ivar didn’t know what to do, she had never cried before, no matter how harsh he was, but now she cried hard and her sobs seemed to echo in the room.

He took a cautious step towards her and tried to do what he knew a good husband would, comfort her somehow, but she pushed him away.

‘No! Not now, after I finally got the courage to leave! I’m not doing this with you now!’ she said before she stormed out of the room.

‘Where are you going?’ Ivar asked as he followed her down the stairs.

(Y/N) stopped by the door and looked up at him still standing by the stairs.

‘I’m not telling you, I don’t want you to know where I am, or where I’m going. I don’t ever want to see you again after this divorce is finalized. Don’t bother even speaking to me outside of signing the papers, goodbye Ivar.’ she said before she removed her wedding ring and put it on the table.

‘(Y/N), I’m telling you not to leave.’

Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: (Y/N) was right.

Pairing:Not Telling

Part One

Part Two

Ivar’s morning was just as shitty as his night had been.

Getting to the restaurant to pick up Maggie and her friend Freydis was easy enough, the real problem started after Freydis had been dropped off and Margrethe was apparently drunker than she had realized.

Four minutes away from her condo Margrethe began throwing up in his passenger seat, he had tried to pull over to let her finish on the side of the road but before he could she had turned his way and…

Ivar sighed for what must have been the millionth time in the last six hours as he waited on his clothes to finish drying while Margrethe slept on her couch.

He looked at his phone and winced at the time, not that he needed to, the sun was already rising and he could hear morning birds when he had stepped out of the shower.

Ivar was exhausted, he had been celebrating a good merger deal last night, his new business partner Heahmund enjoyed drinking after signing papers. Of course Ivar didn’t get sloppy drunk, he had more sense than that, but he was ready to go to sleep when he first got home and found (Y/N) waiting for him with divorce papers in hand.

That along with the hours that passed before he picked her up from her parents’ house had sobered him up completely, but he was dead tired at this point.

At long last the dryer sung its little song and he hurriedly took his clothes and got dressed in the bathroom. He made sure to lock Maggie’s door before he got back into his still rancid smelling car.

He drove the whole way home with the windows down and trying to avoid looking at the sickness that was still in his seat and on his dashboard. When he finally made it to his own house Ivar could already feel his body sinking into his mattress.

Finally he opened the door and stepped into the peace and quiet, and that was when he knew he was finished. He could not fathom getting back into his foul smelling car again and driving the forty minutes it would take to get to Floki’s private hospital.

“We won’t.”

Ivar could remember the certainty in her tone when she said it and he remembered wanting to prove her wrong, but he had to admit defeat.

(Y/N) had been right.

In shame Ivar walked up the stairs to their bedroom and he found it empty. He paused in confusion before he remembered her saying she would sleep in the guest room, without a second thought he made his way down the hall. He needed to at least explain that they were still going to see Floki, it would just be later in the day, but to his surprise the door was locked.

Just to be sure it wasn’t his tiredness getting the best of him, Ivar tried turning the knob again but he hadn’t been mistaken.

She had locked him out.

Ivar didn’t know why but that upset him, in a deeper and darker part of his mind he knew that it hurt him too, but he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself yet. So he focused on the upset, the indignation of being locked out of any room in his house.

‘You know what (Y/N)? Fine! If you want to throw this kind of fit instead of fucking talking to me then fine! I’m going to bed, no point in wasting my time on you.’ he spat before returning to the master bedroom.

For good measure he slammed the door as hard and as loud as he could without breaking it; he hoped the sound would disturb her if she was sleeping, but he did not lock it.

Angrily he undressed and climbed into bed, but despite how tired he was, his sleep was not peaceful.

Ivar tossed and turned in his sleep; his dreams filled with images he wanted to turn away from. A giant folder that contained divorce papers, (Y/N) looking lifeless and still as she sat beside him in the car holding an empty pill bottle, her sleeping peacefully in a faceless man’s arms.

By the time he finally woke up he was soaked in sweat and practically seething with anger. He looked at the alarm clock and was unimpressed to find that it was nearly two thirty in the afternoon.

He paused for a moment to see if he could hear any sounds that told him (Y/N) was awake.

The house was dead silent.

He remembered her saying that she was going out with her family for lunch today, and Ivar was certain he wouldn’t be welcome to join.

“And my sister is taking me out clubbing.”

This time Ivar’s sigh devolved into a frustrated growl as he got out of the bed and headed into the bathroom to shower.

He tried to take comfort in being in his own bathroom and being able to finally fully wash away last night; especially after the rushed uncomfortably cold quick shower he took at Maggie’s place.

But even as the hot water washed over his stiff shoulders Ivar was restlessly wondering where (Y/N) was.

Once he was fully dressed in casual jeans Ivar grabbed his phone and found no text from his wife.

He called her number… she rejected the call.

Ivar stared at the phone in disbelief, she had never ignored his call, he couldn’t even recall ever hearing the phone ring more than once before she answered. He called four more times and got the same results each time until the fifth call was answered.

‘Fuck you Bum-In-Law! Stop calling, we're shopping and if you call again I’ll block your number in her phone. Leave us alone, sign the papers.’ (Y/S/N) hissed quietly and harshly before hanging up in his face.

This time Ivar stared at his phone like it had transformed into a bomb in his hand.

(Y/N)’s younger sister was a travel blogger and was rarely ever in the country so Ivar had only interacted with her a few times over the years, but he never expected her to talk to him that way.

She was of course not friendly with him by any means; same as her parents, but she had been cordial if not a little cold with him.

Bum-In-Law? Is that what his wife was calling him to her family?

He scoffed in outright annoyance before he finally went downstairs to make himself something to eat.

The first thing Ivar noticed when he made it to the kitchen was how clean it was. The countertop was wiped spotless, appliances in pristine condition, sink empty and dishes put away neatly in the cabinets.

Ivar took a closer look while he made himself a sandwich and discovered the sink was bone dry and no plates were in the drying rack.

She didn’t eat this morning.

How often did he see (Y/N) eating when they were home? Of course he didn’t spend his time watching her closely enough to know her food preferences, but had he ever seen her comfortably eating ever?

As he ate he sent a text to Margrethe.

Ivar: Clear my schedule for this week, no meetings, no presentations, nothing. Tell Ubbe to take care of things while I’m gone.

Maggie: Is this about (Y/N)? Do you really need a week to handle a tantrum?

Ivar read the message and his cheeks burned in embarrassment.

Ivar: I need to take her to see Floki and get this divorce nonsense out of her head. I’ll be back when I’m done, I was giving you a generous time frame.

Maggie: I just don’t think now is the time to step away from work, the Essex Project isn’t secured.

Ivar: Send the files to my personal email, no meetings Margrethe I mean it.

Maggie: Understood, and sorry about last night, the mechanic has already picked up the car and it’s being cleaned.

Ivar looked out the kitchen window and found only (Y/N)’s car in the driveway.

Just as he accepted the fact that he had no option but to wait until she came home for once (Y/N) came in alongside her younger sister. Ivar abandoned his plate and went to meet them in the living room but what he saw stunned him as he stood in the kitchen doorway. Both of them were giggling and snickering as they struggled under the weight of the shopping bags in their arms.

Ivar watched in astonishment as (Y/N), too distracted by laughing at whatever her sister had said before they came in, tripped over her own feet and stumbled.

Instinctively Ivar was about to rush to her side to see if she was hurt, but she found her balance and laughed harder.

‘You good?’ (Y/S/N) asked in amusement as they approached the stairs.

‘Gravity won’t defeat me on this day.’ (Y/N) replied dramatically.

‘Hope you feel that way six shots deep into the night. Come on this shit is heavy and we gotta get you ready.’

‘It won’t take four hours to get ready.’ his wife argued as the two sisters headed upstairs without seeming to even notice him there.

Ivar stood there listening to their sisterly banter from upstairs and came to three conclusions.

He had never heard his wife laugh or tell a joke to him, (Y/N) had never invited company to their house before, and he never took her anywhere other than work events.

Upstairs the two sisters were still audibly laughing and teasing each other joyfully. After realizing that he was quite literally eavesdropping in his own house, Ivar made his own way upstairs.

‘This is the one… I think? Do you think it looks okay, I mean?’ he heard (Y/N) ask uncertainly as he entered the guest room.

(Y/N) was standing by the open closet wearing a simple black short tube dress with a small slit at the bottom.

It did look very good on her, he couldn’t take his eyes away from her legs, the slit in the dress left just enough up the imagination to be enticing. It fit her perfectly, hugging her curves snugly and when he finally looked up past her legs he saw how well the dress showed off her breast.

‘Where do you think you are wearing that?’ Ivar asked as he took in the dress.

‘Whose sister are you talking to? Because it’s not mine, and who even asked your opinion?’ (Y/S/N) asked rudely as she stood up from her seat on the bed.

The younger woman placed herself between the married couple and faced him with an expression she must have learned from their mother.

‘Didn’t know I needed permission to speak to my wife.’

‘You don’t, but you need it to speak to my sister. Are you his wife or my sister right now (Y/N)?’

‘Womb to tomb sisters…he’s just some guy I married for some business thing.’ (Y/N) said before she turned back to the shopping bags that were covering the bed.

‘Well you heard it live, now if you don’t mind; a little privacy?’ (Y/S/N) smugly.

‘Excuse me?’ Ivar questioned.

‘You are excused, please go. We are trying to get ready and anyone who doesn’t think she’s killing it in that dress doesn’t have a valid fashion opinion.’

Ivar looked to (Y/N), who was still sorting through the bags, finally stopping when she pulled out a silver necklace.

‘Silver jewelry with a black slutty dress, and you say I have no fashion sense? Maybe you should you remind your sister that we can afford gold and custom designer, if you’re going out at least dress well.’ Ivar said spitefully.

For a second he saw her look down questioningly at herself and she picked at the hem of the dress.

‘Just this once, literally please?’ (Y/S/N) asked, her fists clenched at her sides as she looked ready to outright hit him.

(Y/N) stopped picking at the dress and wiped her palms against the fabric before she took a deep breath.

‘No…I got it this time.’ (Y/N) said, stepping forward to stand between him and her sister.

Ivar watched in awe as his wife approached him with the same fire in her eyes as her sister and mother.

‘I like this dress, I think that designer junk is too flashy, and gold is tacky. Silver is elegant and compliments the color of my oh so simple dress. And if you think it’s slutty then fine.’ (Y/N) said coldly as she continued to descend upon him.

She was getting so close and looked so angry that he found himself backing out of the room.

‘I hope the guys at the club agree with you.’ she said before slamming the door in his face.

Title: Anymore? No, Less

Summary: Ubbe never wanted a contract marriage, but he didn't want to get a divorce either.

Pairing: Not telling

Ubbe came home at the beginning of sunrise, the way he did most weekends. Drunk, tired and well satisfied by his mistress.

He opened the front door, expecting the same sight he’d been coming home to for five years. His wife asleep on the couch and his home cooked meal wrapped in foil on the table.

To his surprise, however, the couch was empty, as was the table. He squinted in confusion and looked in the kitchen, but he found both the fridge and microwave also devoid of his meal.

He shook his head, trying to shake away the drunkenness enough to focus.

‘(Y/N).’ Ubbe called, voice echoing through the house.

No answer came.

What the hell, it was nearly five in the morning. Where was she?

He began looking around the house but every room downstairs was empty, so he made his way upstairs to check the bedroom.

This time he did find her, in bed apparently sleeping peacefully.

Ubbe made his way over to her side of the bed and pulled the comforter off of her roughly, making the poor woman jump awake.

‘Where is dinner?’ he asked rudely.

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily as she sat up and faced him.

‘I already ate, and we both know someone fed you last night; it is morning though so I assume you’re hungry again. Guess I could start on breakfast if you’re just starving right now.’ she said in annoyance as she got out of bed.

Ubbe was stunned by her tone, in all their years she had never spoken to him with such indifference.

‘What is wrong with you?’ he asked as she walked past him to leave the room.

‘A mad man wants breakfast, and I’m the unfortunate soul who calls that man husband.’ she mumbled as she went downstairs.

Ubbe hadn’t heard her but still he’d followed after her.

‘And what do you mean we both know someone fed me?’ he asked in slight panic.

‘I don’t know her name, or their names if you have multiple. I just know that cooking for two is wasteful when you rarely come home to eat and leave food out most nights when you do.’ (Y/N) said in the same casual tone as before.

‘W-What are you talking about?’ Ubbe asked in surprise.

‘Five years. Five unconsummated years of throwing out the food you don’t eat, and washing the lipstick and perfume off your clothes. I’m stupid for ignoring it, but I’m not blind.’ she shrugged as she moved around the kitchen.

Ubbe sighed in defeat, he had thought he’d been careful with his infidelity. She never asked him about it before, so why now?

‘Scrambled or sunny side up?’ she asked, turning back to her task.

‘I don’t need to remind you, this was an-‘ Ubbe began to argue.

‘Arranged marriage, a contract, a silly piece of paper you signed for your inheritance? I know, that’s why I didn’t say anything before, I don’t need another hour long lecture on how you don’t owe me anything.’ (Y/N) interrupted as she scrambled the eggs.

She continued preparing breakfast; putting the bacon in the oven and toast in the toaster, all the while her husband watched her in dismay.

Ubbe felt like his brain was short circuiting.

He wanted to deny and defend his cheating, scold his wife for being confrontational and beg for her forgiveness all at once; but of course he couldn’t do all that.

‘If you know then why are we talking about it now? Why not say something before?’ he asked in defeat as he sat at the table with his head in his hands.

‘Why would I? Would it have made a difference then? Would you have stopped?’ she chuckled to herself as she scrambled the eggs.

Ubbe again stayed silent, they both knew he would have dismissed her protests. That's what he did when she asked him for anything; it’s what he did whenever she spoke.

‘If you must know why I’m saying something now, it's because there is finally a light at the end of this dark tunnel I’ve called my marriage.’ she continued.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked in confusion.

‘The five years are almost up, Ubbe. We can both finally go our separate ways after our anniversary in two weeks.’ (Y/N) said, and this time he could hear her smile in her tone.

Ubbe was shocked to hear (Y/N) speak about their contract so openly, she never did before today. In fact Ubbe was surprised he hadn’t realized how soon their arrangement would be ending.

‘Of course I will continue to fulfill my end of things, but I no longer have to wait on you to treat me like your wife.’ (Y/N) said as she placed a plate of breakfast in front of him.

She turned to leave the kitchen but before she could Ubbe had stood up and taken a firm hold of her arm to stop her.

‘You don’t think I treat you like a wife? Is that what this little attitude of yours is about tonight? Is that what you want?’ he asked smugly.

If that’s all she wanted he could satisfy her, he knew that much.

Again (Y/N) surprised him, this time by snatching her arm away harshly, as if his touch disgusted her.

‘There is no attitude, Ubbe, and no; I don’t want anything from you anymore.’ she said calmly before she successfully left the room.

It was in the emptiness of the kitchen that Ubbe realized what exactly she had said.

Anymore.

Had she ever wanted him in that way?

He tried to recall the beginning of their marriage when he still had to tell her not to expect him to change his ways for her. That he did not want to be bothered by her, that he wouldn’t check in on her and he did not want her embarrassing him in public.

Back then (Y/N) would back away with her head low, but she would still leave a note hoping he enjoyed his meal whenever he did come home.

She would try to dress nicely throughout the day, and she tried to show him affection outside of public events. He rejected her touch and ignored her fashion sense, he barely noticed when her wardrobe became sweatpants exclusively in the house.

Now that he really thought about it, Ubbe couldn’t remember the last time she had even asked about going out, or attending any event that wasn’t mandatory. Even when she did attend he had his assistant pick out her dress and accessories, and when was the last time she’d tried taking hold of his arm. When did the little notes stop being written?

He couldn’t remember.

With an irritated mood he sat back down to eat the breakfast she had cooked; thinking it best to give himself time to sober up and figure out what he should do next.

As he ate, he thought about the five year contract, it had been five years already. It felt absurd to even think about, it didn’t feel like so much time had passed.

Probably because he didn’t change, his routine was the same. He had to imagine that (Y/N) felt every second of the last five years, why else would she be so eager to divorce him now?

Soon his plate was empty and his lingering appetite was satisfied, he had no other rational reason to not be in his bed.

Except that it would mean sleeping beside his wife, the wife that he now knew didn’t want to be there beside him.

Then he recalled her begging for his attention and her visible anger at his blatant disloyalty. The way her body stiffened when another woman would flirt with him in front of her. Why would she be upset if she did not care?

He made his way back up to the room and again he found his wife asleep.

Her snores were soft and the light from the barely rising sun shone onto her sleeping figure.

Of course Ubbe could see his wife was an attractive woman, she had to be in order to even be considered for the proposal. However, he never truly appreciated it, never considered her in that way.

The way a husband should consider his wife.

He took off his clothes from his night out and headed into the bathroom to shower. While the hot water poured over him his mind was stuck on the idea of actually divorcing (Y/N).

Not having her at home waiting on him with a meal, not hearing her moving around the house when he rested on the couch.

Her being with another man after she leaves him.

That horrible thought made him cut his shower short.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way back into the room in an unnecessary rush.

(Y/N) had turned to face his side of the bed in her sleep, her hand resting where his head would be if he were laying beside her.

As if she were caressing his face in her dreams.

He slid into the bed, letting his towel fall to the floor as he did so; he rested his cheek on top of her hand.

Her face scrunched in sleepy annoyance as the disturbance and she turned away from him, taking the warmth of her hand away.

Ubbe felt the slightest sting of rejection as he looked at her back facing him, but he ignored the feeling and moved closer to her again. This time he settled behind her, draping his arm over her waist, holding her for the first time.

She made another sleepy noise as she felt his cold and still wet skin press against her, but then she sighed back into her dreams.

Ubbe watched her sleep in his arms and imagined what would’ve happened if he had done this five years ago; he imagined holding her forever.

Title: Anymore? No, Less

Summary: Ubbe wants to give his marriage a chance, but does his wife agree?

Pairing: Not telling

Part One

Ubbe woke up Sunday morning, naked, alone and slightly hungover.

His eyes burned under the sunlight coming in through the window, his head throbbing as he sat up groaning.

Ubbe took a minute to get out of the bed and grabbed an aspirin from the bathroom cabinet, taking it dry in his urgency for relief.

It was only after he had splashed some cold water on his face that he wondered where exactly his wife was this morning. The clock told him it was two in the afternoon, on Sundays she usually cleaned up or did the chores, but he didn’t hear any movement in the house.

He went back into the bedroom to call her, only to find a note sitting on top of his phone in (Y/N)’s handwriting.

Meeting with my divorce lawyer, I’ll be sleeping in the guest room for the last two weeks.

Divorce lawyer? She was already making the preparations?

Ubbe grabbed his phone and dialed her as quickly as he could, not realizing that this was the first time he had ever called her first.

The phone rang a few times before she finally picked up.

‘Hello?’ (Y/N) asked, her tone questioning and confused.

‘You’re meeting with a divorce lawyer?’ he asked directly.

‘Well I was, I’m having lunch with a friend right now. Did you need something Ubbe?’

‘Yeah, an actual conversation with you about this divorce nonsense.’ Ubbe snapped back as his panic became frustration.

‘Nonsense? Ubbe, the plan was always to end it, I signed for five years and I did my time.’ (Y/N) argued.

‘Did your ti- ?! I’ll be there in thirty minutes.’ Ubbe said, quickly checking his tone.

‘You don’t even know where I am.’ she said incredulously.

‘There are trackers on every car owned in my family, don’t act like you don’t know the kind of wealth my family has. Wait for me.’ Ubbe said firmly before hanging up.

He grabbed the first outfit he saw hanging in his closet and threw the clothes on as quickly as he could while tracking (Y/N)’s personal car.

In his rush to get to his car Ubbe, struggling to put on his socks as he did so, nearly fell down the damn stairs.

For better or worse he did manage to get into the driver seat in one piece, closing the door just as he got the address.

She was at a Bar and Grill that was just around the corner.

Ubbe knew it was unnecessary and stupid, but he sped there just the same, parking next to her car.

(Y/N) was sitting at a table on the patio, she was sitting with another woman that Ubbe could only vaguely remember seeing at a few events over the years.

The two women seemed to be laughing over some drinks, (Y/N) was smiling brighter than she ever had in front of him. Her smile reached her eyes as the sunlight reflected in her (Y/E/C) pupils.

When he got out of the car he saw (Y/N) spot him in the parking lot, and he watched her smile fall.

As he walked toward the table he heard the words (Y/N)’s visibly drunk friend failed to whisper.

‘First and last chance to formally meet him.’ she said, grinning dumbly as she watched him approach their table.

‘Ubbe, this is Mallory, my best friend.’ (Y/N) introduced.

‘I was the maid of honor at your wedding, nice to finally meet you properly. You were a bit…preoccupied during the reception.’ Mallory said teasingly as looked over him.

Ubbe looked away in what he didn’t want to admit was shame; he had been seen sneaking into a janitor's closet with the wedding planner right before the reception began. He had made no attempt at being discreet either, when he finally did join the celebration he could hear the guests whispering and laughing.

At the time it felt like a good laugh, an outrageously ridiculous thing he would do as a high schooler. Now he was remembering how angry (Y/N)’s parent’s had been, how her eyes were watering as they finished their first dance and how quickly she ran from the ballroom when the song ended.

‘Yeah…do you mind giving us a moment to talk alone?’ he asked awkwardly, not knowing what to say to this woman’s criticism.

‘No.’ Mallory said quickly.

‘It’s fine Mal, your Uber is here now anyway. Besides I kind of have to talk to him, get things in order now so we can be ready for the Big Day.’ (Y/N) appeased, helping her friend stand and gather her things.

‘I’ll help her to the car, can you watch my things?’ his wife asked as she already began dragging Mallory away.

‘Don’t marry himmm~’ Mallory whined drunkenly as she was carried off.

Ubbe sat at the table and glanced around to make sure no one was staring at him like he was the worst husband they’d ever overheard two women talk about, of course no one was looking but he still felt his ears burning red.

‘She should make it home fine, I told her husband to expect a hot mess at his doorstep.’ (Y/N) said casually as she sat back down, picking up her margarita.

‘(Y/N) can you stop.’ Ubbe aske, desperately.

‘Stop what?’ she asked in what looked like genuine confusion.

‘This. Acting like you are talking about changing a flat tire and not ending a damn marriage. Did your time? The Big Day? Are you kidding me?’ he clarified, unable to hide his frustration.

‘I’m the one treating this marriage like a flat tire? Are you kidding me? So I haven’t done every possible thing to fix this fucked up tire? Is that it?’ (Y/N) her attitude visibly darkening.

‘I’m not sayi-’

‘What are you saying then? What exactly is your problem right now Ubbe? Is it my tone? Is it too harsh? How about this one?’ she fired off before she softened her angry face completely.

‘It’s fine, Ubbe, I won’t leave. You can keep seeing the other women, humiliating me and I’ll just spend another night alone wondering why I’m still not enough.’ she said in a tone that was so sweet it dripped honey.

This was the woman he had been married to for five years, this was the tone of voice he always drowned out and ignored. The woman that did what was expected of a wife, the woman that Ubbe always thought was in love with him.

It made Ubbe feel like his head was spinning, because that was exactly what he’d wanted to hear, but the look in her eyes told him the truth. Every word she said was a lie.

The sweet voice was a lie, all the words, lies, five years of loving him…a lie. The woman he married was a lie; whoever she was when she looked at him now, with all that indifference, that’s who (Y/N) really was.

When Ubbe couldn’t respond to her (Y/N) dropped the act and went back to her drink.

‘You know, my parents were arranged too. Someway, somehow, they love each other; I mean they really love each other. When they asked me if I was open to this agreement, I just knew I could love anyone I chose to love, then I married you Ubbe.’ (Y/N) said bitterly before she began drinking again.

‘God I thought I could love you, I tried so hard. No matter how despicable you were, and you were despicable, I still tried. I tried to make you love me. Embarrassed myself trying to appeal to you, slaved myself trying to be the good wife you’d want to talk about during a speech the way my dad would for mom.’

‘I could do that, I could have been doing all that husband stuff for you, if you told me you wanted me to.’ Ubbe said.

‘I tried telling you, you said you didn’t like my nagging voice. So I was quiet for you; I’d go days without speaking at all. You didn’t want to be seen out with me, so I stopped going out. Instead I cooked and waited for you; left love notes that you crumbled and threw away.’ (Y/N) replied.

‘I know that I’ve never been good to you before, but give me a chance to finally try.’ he begged.

‘A chance to do what? Husband stuff? You don’t even know what that means. You’ve never put any effort into our marriage so I picked up your slack, because I signed a contract. Because my family needed the support at the time, and I don’t break deals.’ (Y/N) said coldly before she finished her drink.

She sat down the glass and fixed her hardened eyes on Ubbe’s, the sternness of her gaze made him hold his breath.

‘So yes, I did my time, and I do think of our Anniversary as the Big Day that I finally get to be free of you Ubbe. I’m ready to have my own life again, I miss going out with my friends and having fun without having to worry about “embarrassing your family image”.’ she said with air quotes and a scoff.

She was looking at him with outright disdain now, a look he’d never seen on her face until today.

‘I don’t know why we are even talking about this right now. Isn’t this what you wanted too? To get me out of your face forever so you can go back to the bachelor life you love so much?’

‘I don’t want to divorce you.’ Ubbe said desperately.

He didn’t know what else to say, because nothing she said could be argued or denied. Ubbe knew he had been a nightmare for five years.

‘I know I have been…difficult to live with, but you have never held it against me before. You’re right you have been a good wife to me, better than I deserved; I realize that now and I will spend everyday making up for the way I treated you. Just let me show you I can be as good a husband.’ he pleaded openly.

She looked at him in stunned shock for a split second before an honest to God laugh burst out of her mouth. Her laughter was so thunderous a few other tables stopped to see where the noise was coming from.

‘Aha ha I can’t- I can’t even tell you how late this is!’ she all but cackled as she tried to compose herself.

‘It’s not too late, I have two weeks before the contract expires.’ Ubbe argued.

‘Well, my advice is to not waste your time; you can’t make up five years of disrespect in two weeks. Even if you could, any feelings I could have had for you died a long time ago; so business as usual until we get the papers.’ (Y/N) dismissed.

Again Ubbe tried to argue that he could earn her forgiveness, but he was interrupted by a familiar shrill voice.

‘Ubbe Baby!’

The married couple turned and saw a blonde woman wearing a tight black dress with silver accessories and red bottom heels approached their table.

‘Who knew I’d see you today?’ the newcomer smiled brightly as she placed her hands on Ubbe’s shoulder in a very familiar way.

‘Margrethe.’ (Y/N) greeted in such obvious annoyance.

Margrethe was one of the many women Ubbe had been with, in fact she was one of his most reliable mistresses. They had met when she had transferred to his highschool in their junior year; she was his first and Ubbe had been casually enjoying her ever since.

Now she was a B List beauty influencer with her own line of skin care products, invested in by Ubbe’s family business.

The blonde looked over at (Y/N) as if she was only noticing her now.

‘Oh! Mrs. Ragnarson, I didn’t even see you there!’ Margrethe smiled sweetly.

‘Clearly.’ (Y/N) smiled, looking at the way Margrethe’s hands were still roaming over Ubbe’s shoulders lazily.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting.’

‘For once you’re not; I was just leaving. Enjoy my husband.’ (Y/N) said formally as she stood and grabbed her bag.

‘(Y/N), wait!’

Ubbe stood as well, catching his wife by the arm; just as he had the night before, and she snatched away from him just the same.

‘Don’t touch me.’ (Y/N) hissed venomously enough to make him inwardly recoil.

Margrethe looked between the couple, wondering what was going on exactly. All she knew was that Ubbe had been her meal ticket since high school and the only reason Ubbe didn’t end up being her husband is because his bitch mother deemed her family too low class to join the Ragnarsons.

She hated (Y/N) deeply and it brought her sick satisfaction to watch Ubbe discard his homely wife in favor of a wild night out with her instead. How many nights had she laid naked beside him while pondering what his ball and chain would cook him that night?

But why was Ubbe out with her right now? Why was he pleading with her to stay? Margrethe thought and the only thing she could come up with is that (Y/N) must be holding something over him. If that was the case, she could help Ubbe get whatever he needed and once that was done he would owe her.

With that misguided plan in mind, Margrethe also moved to take hold of (Y/N)’s hand in a familiar and friendly way.

‘Don’t leave on my account, you and Ubbe seemed to be in the middle of a very important conversation.’

‘Why is what I talk about with my husband any concern of yours?’ (Y/N) said rudely as she again snatched away her hand.

‘Oh, please don’t misuderst-’ the blonde tried, but (Y/N) interrupted her lie.

‘There is no misunderstanding between any of us here. Ubbe is my husband, you are sleeping with him and you already know that I know. You have been flaunting it as boldly as he will allow you to since I married him, I just don’t feel like doing the fake pleasantries anymore. So again, I’ll be leaving now, enjoy my husband. God knows I haven’t, so someone should.’ she snapped before she left the patio seating area.

‘(Y/N)!’ Ubbe called after her but she didn’t stop, or even acknowledge him at all.

He watched in defeated frustration as (Y/N) got into her car and drove away.

‘Dammit! Margrethe, why are you here?!’ he snarled, turning on the blonde, hardly able to keep his voice down.

His tone was so harsh and angry that Margrethe flinched at his question; in all their years sleeping together he had never once raised his voice at her.

‘I-I was just picking up my lunch order, I was waiting when I saw you. Why are you yelling at me?’ she asked, in her smallest, most shy voice.

The one Uber could never resist falling for.

Ubbe took a deep breath before he spoke again, this time much more composed.

‘I’m sorry for shouting. I need to get home and talk to (Y/N).’ he apologized as he tried to leave.

Margrethe stopped him, taking his hand in hers gently.

‘What is wrong? You never go out with her, is she blackmailing you?’ Margrethe asked.

‘Blackmail, what are you talking about? She’s trying to divorce me and I-’

‘Isn’t that good, we can go back to doing what we want in the open again. I’m tired of only seeing you in hotel rooms, I want to break in your mattress for a change.’ Margrethe flirted.

For a split second, Ubbe thought about how he would have responded yesterday. He would have agreed, he’d take her home and say something to (Y/N) about having a private conversation.

The amount of shame he felt was enough to make him sick.

‘I don’t want to divorce her, and I don’t have time for you anymore.’ Ubbe said quickly before he too left the patio.

Margrethe was left standing there, eyes wide and jaw dropped in shock.