1 Cassandra’s childhood obsession, Scott, was throwing another one of his tantrums, which meant she was getting ready to divorce me again. My heart felt like a dead weight in my chest. I looked at her, my voice flat. "This will be divorce number eight." Her face was a mask of guilt, her eyes pleading. "Daniel, I don't have a choice. You know how Scott gets. He's threatening to... hurt himself. I can't just let him, can I?" "But don't worry, Daniel," she added quickly, a line I knew by heart. "As soon as I calm him down, we'll get married again. I promise." I said nothing. She'd said those exact words to me countless times. We'd been married eight times and divorced eight times. The clerks at City Hall knew me by name. I heard them whispering behind my back once, calling me part of the "Revolving-Door Couple." I held the freshly printed divorce certificate in my hand. Behind the counter, a clerk asked with a smirk, "So, when are you coming back for wedding number nine?" I just shook my head, my voice hollow. "There won't be a next time." Walking out of City Hall, I saw Cassandra already doting on Scott, cooing at him. The same Scott who, less than an hour ago, had been threatening to end his own life, was now beaming, completely pacified by a few of her sweet words. Every time I saw it, a sense of surreal disbelief washed over me. Was this smiling boy really the same person who had smashed a glass bottle, held a jagged shard to his own throat, and screamed until his voice was raw? Today was supposed to be my third wedding anniversary with Cassandra. The irony was laughable. It had been three years since our first wedding, but that time was fractured by an endless cycle of divorces and remarriages. Our most recent "I do" was only a month ago. And now, we were divorced again. Three years. Eight marriages. Eight divorces. I used to see memes online about couples like this and laugh. I never imagined it would become my reality. As I walked out of the building in a daze, Scott shot me a triumphant glare, twisting the knife in my already bleeding heart. "Cassie, are you tricking me?" he whined, his voice cloying. "How did you get the divorce done so fast? Did Daniel try to stop you again? He just wants me dead so he can have you all to himself." Cassandra looked exhausted. This time, she didn't defend me. She didn't say a word in my defense. She just soothed him, handing the divorce certificate over as proof. "See? It's right here. I wouldn't lie to you." Scott's face lit up as he examined the document. He fell silent, but when Cassandra wasn't looking, he shot me a look of pure contempt, his chin held high in victory. Even though I knew he was just trying to provoke me, a storm of emotion still churned inside me. It was almost too ridiculous to believe. The reason for this latest drama? A month ago, Cassandra had given me an early anniversary present. Scott saw it and flew into a jealous rage. We had just remarried, and almost immediately, Scott’s tantrum had us back at City Hall, filing for divorce once more. I remembered the clerk who handled our paperwork that day, shaking her head. "You two are here more often than my mailman." I was so ashamed I could have crawled into a hole. In three short years, we’d been to City Hall nearly thirty times. Every employee recognized us. But Cassandra had exploded, pulling me behind her like a protective lioness. "Just do your job! Why do you care? My husband and I enjoy getting married and divorced. It's our hobby! What's it to you?" The clerk, stunned by her ferocity, had silently processed the paperwork. Ever since that day, Scott had been counting down the thirty-day waiting period. And this morning, he couldn't wait another second, forcing Cassandra to drag me here to finalize it. 2 He'd smashed a glass, holding a shard to his throat to threaten her. "If you two don't get divorced today, I might as well just die!" Cassandra, who had been planning to just placate him, panicked. She grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin, leaving deep red crescents. "We have to do it today, Daniel," she hissed. "Or Scott will do something terrible!" In that instant, something inside me finally clicked into place. It didn't matter if I married Cassandra a hundred times, or a thousand. I would never be more important than her precious Scott. "Alright, alright, it's all done. Let's go home," Cassandra said, pulling Scott toward her car. Out of habit, I reached for the passenger door, but Scott blocked my way. He pouted, his face a mask of displeasure. "Daniel, you and Cassie aren't married anymore. It wouldn't look right for you to ride in her car, would it?" I instinctively looked at Cassandra. She frowned and tugged at Scott's arm, but he shook her off. "I'm just speaking the truth, Cassie! You're divorced. What will people think if they see you two together in the same car?" he continued, turning his lecture on me. "Besides, Daniel, you'll have to marry someone else eventually. You should learn to keep a little distance from your ex-wife." Every word was calculated, every point seemingly logical. Cassandra could only look at me, her expression pained. "Daniel… maybe it's for the best if…" She didn't have to finish. I understood. The soft flesh inside my cheek was raw where I'd been biting it. My voice tasted faintly of blood when I spoke. "It's fine. I'll walk." The moment the words left my mouth, Scott's face broke into a satisfied grin and he hopped into the passenger seat. Before they drove off, Cassandra gave me a look filled with apology and guilt, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't mind him, Daniel. He's just not in a good mood today, so he's acting out." "Wait for me. Once he's settled down, we'll go get married again. And this time, it'll be for good. I swear." I didn't say anything. At Scott's urging, she sped away. I had believed that same promise seven times before. Every single time, I was a fool. The first divorce was because Cassandra forgot Scott's birthday. The second was because Scott's beloved cat ran away. The third was because Scott had a nightmare that Cassandra would abandon him once she was married. And this time? It was because she bought me a gift and not him. The reasons grew more absurd with each iteration, yet each one was enough for Cassandra to choose him, to abandon me. Over the years, I'd argued. I'd fought. I'd raged against the unfairness of it all. But the result was always the same. She would soothe me with empty promises, then go right back to catering to Scott's every whim. Now, after the eighth divorce, I was done. I was letting go. No matter how fiercely a fire burns, enough cold water will eventually extinguish it. My love was finally out. I walked back to Cassandra's house in a stupor. Before I even opened the door, I could hear them laughing and playing inside. I walked in to see Cassandra’s face dusted with flour, her expensive clothes speckled with white. I remembered a time when a single drop of soup had splattered on her shirt, and she had berated me for my clumsiness. She had a touch of OCD, a obsession with cleanliness. Yet here she was, covered in flour for Scott, without a hint of anger. Seeing me, Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief. She untied the apron from her own waist and tried to put it on me, giving me no time to even catch my breath. "Daniel, you're finally back! Get cooking, will you? Scott and I are starving." Scott, sprawled on the sofa like a king, issued his command. "I want pot roast today. And make sure the meat is extra tender, falling right off the bone." A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I looked straight at him. "You want to eat? Why don't you make it yourself? With all the time you two spent playing with flour, you could have cooked a five-course meal." 3 The words had barely left my mouth when Cassandra shoved me, her face contorted with rage. My lower back slammed into the sharp corner of the dining table, and a jolt of white-hot pain made me break out in a cold sweat. "Daniel, what the hell do you think you're saying?" she hissed. "I ask you to make one meal, and you give me this attitude?" I clenched my jaw against the pain, saying nothing. In her eyes, my silence was defiance. Scott chimed in from the couch, his voice dripping with venom. "See, Cassie? I told you. Daniel can't stand me. Every time you ask him to do something for me, he throws a fit. If he were really my brother-in-law, you'd probably have to kick me out of the house." At that, something in Cassandra snapped. Her eyes blazed. She grabbed my arm and dragged me into the kitchen, throwing me against the counter. Her face was a cold, merciless mask. "If you don't cook what Scott wants to eat tonight, you can spend the night in here." Slam. The kitchen door shut. My wrist was already bruising, and where my elbow had hit the corner of the stove, the skin had broken. I could see blood welling up. A moment later, I heard Scott’s delighted laughter from the other room. Cassandra came back in. Seeing me standing motionless, her brow furrowed. "Daniel, are you deliberately trying to defy me? You're his brother-in-law! What's the big deal about making him a meal?" I straightened up slowly, lifting my head to meet her gaze, a sneer playing on my lips. "Did you forget? We're divorced. That title doesn't apply to me anymore." A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. She cleared her throat, then softened, wrapping her arms around me in a gentle hug. Her voice was a low, soothing murmur. "I lost my temper just now. But I told you, this is just temporary. As soon as Scott's feeling better, we can get remarried anytime. Don't be angry over such a small thing." She pressed a piece of paper into my hand—a list of dishes. Her expression turned serious, a subtle warning in her eyes. "I'm giving you a chance here. If you can make Scott happy, we can get remarried that much faster. Just be good, Daniel. Please." She left, closing the kitchen door behind her. A wave of desolation washed over me. When had our marriage, our life, become such a "small thing" in her eyes? And she wanted me to please Scott? I'm sorry. I couldn't do it. I'd rather sleep on the cold kitchen floor. I sank to the ground, leaning my back against the cabinets, and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, an icy shock jolted me awake. I opened my eyes to see Scott standing over me, a wicked grin on his face, an empty basin in his hand. A puddle of freezing water was spreading across my clothes and the floor. "Scott, are you insane?" He tossed the plastic basin at me. The rim caught me squarely on the forehead. "I asked you to cook, not to take a nap, Daniel! You think a pathetic loser like you deserves to marry Cassandra? Dream on!" Rage, pure and hot, surged through me. I grabbed the basin he’d thrown and hurled it back at him with all my strength. Scott shrieked. He dodged the basin itself, but the remaining water splashed all over him. Hearing the commotion, Cassandra burst in. She took one look at the soaked and sputtering Scott and, without a second thought, grabbed me by the collar. "Daniel, have you lost your mind? Who gave you the nerve to hurt Scott?" She was pulling so hard, her face a mask of fury, that I thought she would rip the fabric. I had to rise onto my toes just to breathe, craning my neck to get the words out. "He threw water on me first! He hit me with the—" My words were cut off as her eyes widened, flashing with a cold, brutal light. "You deserved it!" she snarled. "I asked you to do one simple thing—make dinner—and you defy me? You're lucky Scott was merciful enough to only throw cold water on you. If it were me, I'd have thrown you out on the street!"
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