1 My colleague was just joking around, slapping a parking ticket on my windshield and snapping a picture to prank me about a violation. I fell for it. Logging onto the city’s traffic violations website, I wasn’t prepared for what I found. It wasn’t a parking ticket. It was a crystal-clear, high-resolution photo from a traffic cam yesterday. In the photo, Julian’s first love, Claire, was in the passenger seat. She was unbuckled, leaning across the console to press a kiss to his cheek. And Julian… he was smiling. A radiant, unreserved smile I’d never once seen him wear for me. Staring at that image, a cold clarity washed over me. This one-sided devotion, this decade of chasing a ghost—it was time to let go. I quietly paid the fine online. Then, I drove myself to the clinic and had the abortion. I drafted the divorce papers and had them messengered to his office. From this day forward, the mountains are just mountains, and I am just me. … My best friend, Tessa, got the news and burst through my door, frantic. “What the hell is going on with you and Julian? Did he cheat on you?” I lifted my swollen, red-rimmed eyes, managing a smile that felt more like a grimace. Ten years of looking up to him, of orbiting his world, had earned me a marriage that was nothing more than polite, respectful distance. I had mistaken it for happiness. Today, a single photograph had shattered that illusion. Marrying me… for Julian, it had always been a compromise, hadn't it? Tessa looked at my pathetic, crumbling state, and her anger flared. “I told you, Liv. I told you Julian Vance was no good, but you wouldn’t listen. You were determined to follow that path until it led you off a cliff.” “Good riddance, I say! It killed me watching you trail after him like some pathetic puppy!” She took a breath, her tone softening slightly. “Listen, Ian has that international project he needs someone to lead. Why don’t you think about it?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. I managed a small nod, and only then did I realize tears were already streaming down my face, silent and unstoppable. I fumbled around for a tissue, but Tessa just sighed, pulling me into a hug. “Don't hold it in. Just cry.” And I did. The dam of my composure broke, and I clung to her, sobbing out all the grievance. After she dropped me home, she had to run. I called Ian to get the details about the project and realized it was a perfect fit for my skills. I accepted on the spot. The departure date was in one week. I could handle the work handover online. Later, washing my face, I caught my reflection in the mirror—this haggard, miserable-looking woman. For the first time, I felt a surge of disgust at myself. My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts. “Olivia,” Julian’s voice, infuriatingly polite. “Could you do me a favor and bring my black suit to the office? Thanks.” Habit took over, and I agreed before I could stop myself. The line went dead before the wrongness of it all sank in. After a moment of hesitation, I decided not to call back and refuse. Julian was often "too busy" to come home anyway. This was my chance to pick up the signed divorce papers in person. When I arrived, Claire was leaning over Julian's shoulder, both of them focused on his computer screen. A stray strand of her hair brushed against his cheek. He gently caught it, tucking it behind her ear with a tenderness that stole my breath. His eyes flickered up and met mine. The softness in his expression vanished, replaced by a cool annoyance. “What took you so long?” he asked, his tone accusatory. Claire smiled, a soothing hand on his arm, and took the suit from me. “Don’t be harsh, Julian. He’s just stressed out by the team. Thank you for bringing this, Olivia. Don’t mind him.” She played the part of the gracious lady of the house perfectly, making me feel like the shameful intruder. If this had happened right after she’d returned to the country and become his secretary, I would have erupted. But now, my voice was flat, devoid of the fury she expected. “Are the papers signed?” Julian’s eyebrow arched. He let Claire help him into the fresh suit jacket. “What papers?” “Julian, we should go. We’re going to be late,” Claire interjected, cutting off our conversation. He gave a slight nod, tossing a dismissive remark over his shoulder as he followed her out. “We’ll talk at home.” As they walked away, Claire glanced back at me, a triumphant, unconcealed smirk on her face. I searched his desk, but the divorce agreement was nowhere to be found. My hand accidentally nudged the mouse, and the computer screen lit up. His desktop wallpaper filled the screen: Julian and Claire, leaning against a seaside railing, their gazes locked, their faces alight with a deep, shared affection. Another intimacy I had never known. I grabbed my bag and fled. Back home, I collapsed behind the front door and wept again. Letting go… it was so much harder than I’d imagined. But it was okay. One day, I would rip Julian out of my heart, root and stem. Mindlessly scrolling through videos to numb the pain, a "People You May Know" suggestion popped up. I meant to swipe past it, but my thumb slipped and opened the profile. It was Claire’s. The latest video was from a funeral. The caption read: In these difficult times, I’m so glad I have you by my side. The deceased was just a distant uncle of hers. And there, standing beside her, was Julian, playing the part of the devoted partner. Watching him on screen, so present and attentive, a bitter realization dawned on me. Julian wasn't always "drowning in work." He was just never available for me. He’d used that same excuse—"work is just too crazy right now"—to leave our own wedding reception halfway through. I remembered the flicker of apology in his eyes and thought it was guilt. I had even comforted him, telling him not to worry. How laughable it all seemed now. He was probably already regretting it back then. 2 That night, as expected, Julian didn't come home. But I saw him the next day at the university’s alumni homecoming. He was on stage, holding Claire’s hand as they presented a large donation. I stood in the audience and listened as he shamelessly introduced her to the host as "the most important person in my life." In that moment, I felt a wave of relief that I had honored his request for a "low-key" wedding and hadn't invited a single friend from college. As if sensing my presence, he turned his head, and his eyes met mine across the crowd. A frown creased his brow, but his hand remained firmly clasped around Claire’s. A bitter taste filled my mouth. I lowered my head and walked away, heading toward the grassy banks of Mirror Lake on campus. Footsteps followed me. “You came to the homecoming? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have picked you up.” No mention of holding her hand. No explanation. No flicker of panic at being caught. A sardonic laugh escaped me. “Is there even room for me in your car anymore?” Julian rubbed the bridge of his nose, a picture of weary frustration. “Liv, do you have to be so aggressive? What happened to the considerate, understanding woman I know?” The woman I used to be? What was she like? She worshipped him as the god who had pulled her from the mire. His smile was her sun, his frown her storm. Her entire world revolved around him, a self-erased satellite in his orbit. Honestly, if Julian had just told me he wanted to be with Claire, I would have stepped aside. I knew from the start that our marriage was just a spiteful rebound on his part, a way to get back at her after they broke up. I was the secret admirer who saw it all unfold and willingly walked into the trap. Now that their old flame was rekindled, he should have been pushing me out the door. His deliberate avoidance of the topic was something I just couldn't understand. “Julian, there you are!” Claire’s voice called out. She approached us, navigating the soft grass in her high heels. She feigned surprise at seeing me. “Oh, Olivia, you’re here too?” She walked right up to Julian, straightening his collar with a familiar ease. “The dean is looking for you for a photo. We should head back.” Julian glanced at me, waiting for a response I wouldn’t give. He sighed, then said, “Wait for me. We’ll leave together.” “Don’t you have that conference call to rush back for?” Claire reminded him with a sweet smile, then turned to me, her voice dripping with mock apology. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get a cab home, Olivia.” Julian hesitated. Suddenly, Claire shrieked, “A snake!” In a flash, Julian shoved me aside. He scooped a frantic Claire into his arms and sprinted toward the safety of the paved path. And me, standing right at the water's edge, I was the one he pushed. The shove sent me stumbling backward, right off the bank and into the lake. The summer water of Mirror Lake should have been warm. But as it closed over me, it felt bone-chillingly cold, a frigid shock that seeped into my very marrow. Through the shimmering surface, I saw Julian’s eyes—wide with guilt and panic. He started rushing toward me, but I had already scrambled back onto the bank before he could reach me. “Liv, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see…” I managed a weak smile. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” Without another glance, I turned and walked away, my body and soul dripping with a cold I couldn't shake. I saw Julian’s fists clench at his sides. For the first time, he looked as if he realized I was slipping away, truly out of his reach. He started to follow, but a glance back at the still-trembling Claire stopped him. Instead, a text message arrived: Go home first. I’ll explain later. I let out a hollow scoff. Explain what? That his first instinct was to protect her? Or that his solution was to throw me into a lake? Whichever it was, I didn't want to hear it. I was tired of his self-serving lies. That evening, a troubled Julian came home early for once. He found the kitchen cold and dark, me quietly eating takeout on the couch. A strange sense of relief seemed to settle over him. “Is this how you take care of yourself when I’m not here?” he murmured, his tone chiding but gentle. “We should hire a housekeeper. There’s too much to do around here. It breaks my heart to see you so tired.” My hand, holding my fork, paused mid-air. What a considerate, caring husband. These were the exact kinds of empty pleasantries he’d used to make me believe that, over time, he’d actually fallen for me. They were the reason I had become so hopelessly dependent on him. But a lie is still a lie. I wiped my mouth and spoke, my voice steady. “Let’s get a divorce.” 3 Julian froze for a second, then let out a weary laugh. “Still throwing a tantrum, are we?” he said, stepping closer. “Claire and I are in the past. You and I are married now. You need to trust your husband.” He reached out to pat my head, his tone placating, as if offering me an easy way to back down. I didn't take it. “Make your own dinner.” It was perhaps the first time I had ever flatly refused him, and he looked genuinely taken aback. I had no intention of continuing the conversation. I moved to sidle past him toward the bedroom, but his hand shot out, grabbing my arm. “Liv, are you not feeling well?” he asked, his voice still infuriatingly gentle, painting me as the irrational one. I snapped. “What if I’m not? In five years of marriage, have you ever actually cared?” “We’re husband and wife. Who else would I care about?” “Fine. Then tell me, when was my last period?” His mouth opened, but no words came out. Of course he wouldn’t know. Just like he didn’t know I was pregnant. I’d had morning sickness in front of him several times, and he’d just casually told me to take some antacids. “But you know Claire’s, don’t you?” I stared at him, tears welling in my eyes. I expected him to get angry, to yell, to desperately deny his relationship with her. He did none of those things. He just sighed, a deep, world-weary sound. “You need to calm down. I’ll be working late at the office tonight.” There it was again. His escape hatch. Every time I tried to confront him, he’d retreat behind the shield of "work." A cold war waged under the guise of mutual respect, and Julian was a master of it. Something inside me broke. I grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and hurled it at him. He didn't dodge in time. It struck him on the temple, leaving an angry red mark. His eyes, which had been full of weary patience, slowly filled with rage. “Olivia, there’s a limit to this nonsense.” He turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving me in a crushing, dead silence. There’s no point in screaming into a valley that gives no echo; you only exhaust yourself. I slid down to the floor, my gaze landing on our wedding photo on the wall. I started to laugh, but the laughter choked into sobs. I don't know how long I sat there, lost in a daze, before my phone rang. I pressed the answer button, and Julian’s furious voice crackled through the speaker. “Olivia, get over here and control your damn friend.” The mention of Tessa jolted me to my feet. I hung up and rushed to the restaurant he’d named. The moment I stepped inside, I saw it: Claire, clutching her cheek, weeping pitifully in Julian’s arms, while Tessa was being held back by two waiters, looking ready to commit murder. I hurried to Tessa’s side, trying to calm her down. Julian didn’t even look at me. His face was a thundercloud. “Tessa, don't think for a second that because you’re Olivia’s friend, I won’t touch you.” His voice was dangerously low. “Apologize to Claire. Now.” “Screw you!” Tessa spat. “Don’t you dare try to frame me, you cheating piece of trash! I wish I’d slapped her, but I never got the chance!” Julian’s anger pivoted and crashed down on me. “Olivia, what kind of lies have you been feeding her? I told you Claire and I are just friends! Are you deaf?” His voice rose, drawing stares from the other patrons. “Today, neither of you is leaving until you apologize to Claire.” “Fine,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm. “But before we do anything, let’s have the manager pull up the security footage.” Tessa’s eyes lit up. Claire, however, just cried harder. “It’s okay, Julian, forget it,” she sobbed. “I… I didn’t realize Olivia misunderstood me so deeply. Maybe… maybe you should just stay away from me from now on.” With that, she turned and ran out of the restaurant, tears streaming down her face. Julian shot me one last venomous look before rushing after her. “Olivia,” he bit out before he left, “if anything happens to Claire, I swear, we are done.” My throat felt tight. I lowered my eyes, saying nothing.
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