On our third wedding anniversary, in front of all our friends and family, I presented my husband, Liam Brooks, with a special gift. “Open it.” Liam looked confused as he unwrapped it. When he saw the lifelike android, he froze, his face draining of color. He shot up, “What is the meaning of this?” The android wasn’t just anyone; it was the spitting image of his deceased first love, Sarah Jensen. I spoke nonchalantly. “Now you can openly hug her to sleep, without having to secretly get up in the middle of the night, while I’m asleep, and relieve yourself with her photos.” “How’s that? Am I a thoughtful wife or what?” 1 Everyone present exchanged glances, their faces showing they’d stumbled upon some juicy gossip. Liam’s face fell, and he rose in indignation. “Sophia, are you deliberately humiliating me?” “Sarah has been gone for three years. How dare you insult her this way?” Looking at the strikingly lifelike android, Liam’s face darkened, almost choking. “What, you don’t like it?” I scoffed. “Then throw it away.” Saying that, I stood up, intending to toss the android into the trash. “Stop!” Liam rushed over, his face pale, and blocked me. His hand clutched the android’s arm, an imperceptible tenderness and heartbreak flashing in his eyes. “This is Sarah’s face. How dare you throw it in the trash?” “Sophia, do you have any decency?” “Should someone who died three years ago be treated, humiliated, and made a joke of like this?” His voice was almost hoarse on the last sentence. I, however, stood with my arms crossed, watching him with a half-smile. “I’m just worried about you, driven mad by grief, aren’t I? We’ve been married for three years, and you’re still obsessed with photos of your ex-girlfriend every day. So I splurged on this custom-made Sarah Jensen android. It’s exactly like her when she was alive.” “I’m being so considerate, how can you speak to me like that?” Our friends, witnessing this scene, didn’t know whether to mediate or plead. They cast meaningful glances at the android in the gift box, involuntarily swallowing. Luke, Liam’s friend, nudged him with his elbow. “Come on, Liam, it’s rare for Sophia to be so thoughtful. You should be grateful.” “Look at the robot’s figure – curvaceous and perfectly proportioned, far better than the real thing…” “What are you talking about?!” My best friend, Clara, couldn’t take it anymore, rolling her eyes. “Can’t you see Sophia is truly angry and deliberately being sarcastic with Liam?!” Everyone else exchanged bewildered looks. Luke belatedly realized, gasped, and then apologized to me. “I’m sorry, Sophia, I thought you two were just being… ironic.” I said nothing, merely observing Liam’s exasperated expression. I watched him go from initial anger to being gradually captivated by the android before him. I watched him, the guest of honor on our anniversary, completely detached, gazing tenderly at this ‘Sarah Jensen.’ Even with a nonchalant smile on my face, my heart still gave a faint, painful throb. Three years of marriage. I remembered the day we got our marriage license, Liam had promised me, thumping his chest. “I’ve forgotten all about the past. I’ll settle down and build a good life with you.” But he never kept that promise, not for a single day. The car’s GPS used Sarah’s synthesized voice. He would even spend hours driving around, lost in thought. Liam would respond to every turn, every direction, yet he couldn’t manage more than ten words a day with me, though he could chat with a virtual, synthesized voice for two hours. I can’t describe how I felt when I saw that dashcam footage. But that wasn’t the first time, nor the last. Those fragmented memories began to unravel. I even recalled that for three years of our marriage, Liam claimed to be a light sleeper and uncomfortable with someone next to him. So, we started sleeping in separate rooms on the second night of our marriage. He never dared to touch me. Even when I deliberately had a little wine and tried to tempt him with sexy lingerie, he’d maintain a cool distance. He told me he was a devout man, committed to chastity and detachment. Even when his parents pressed him for a child, he flatly refused, firmly stating, “I’m childfree for life. If you really want a child, you can adopt one from a welfare institution; I don’t mind.” Initially, I believed he was truly detached. But then, one night, I woke up thirsty. I inadvertently noticed the study light was on. Through the crack, I heard rustling, and faint, low gasps. I cautiously approached, only to witness a scene that chilled me to the bone. Liam, usually so self-restrained, was gazing longingly at a woman’s photograph, his eyes hazy. What he was doing was undeniable. Afterwards, I went into the study, pulled open a drawer, and saw the woman’s face in the photo. Sarah Jensen. His ex-girlfriend, who died three years ago in that avalanche. She also died in the year Liam loved her most. 2 Ever since Liam received that android, he'd been holed up at home. I inadvertently noticed it. In the neatly tidied guest bedroom, the android wore a pristine white dress, and at first glance, it really did look like a living young woman. Even I felt a moment of disorientation, even freezing. It truly resembled… Sarah Jensen as she was alive. Liam became even busier each day. He worked during the day, returned to the study to handle messages in the evening, and then retreated to the bedroom early. Every night, he’d embrace that robot, whispering his innermost thoughts, and I even heard indescribable sounds. It was fine. After all, that android was meant for exactly that purpose. But ever since Liam received that android, some imperceptible changes occurred in me too. For instance, in the mornings, I no longer prepared breakfast for two. I only toasted one slice of bread. I only poured one glass of milk. Even the dirty clothes I put in the washing machine were just mine. His piles always remained on the sofa. Even if they grew moldy, I wouldn’t touch them. I was waiting for Liam to initiate the divorce. Yet, Liam, though he must have noticed these things, noticed my deliberate targeting, my cold shoulder, never argued or made a fuss. He simply, silently, completed the forgotten household chores himself. It was a fortnight later that I finally couldn't take it anymore. “Things have come to this; do you think we should still just ‘make do’?” “Liam, stop deceiving yourself, and stop deceiving me.” “Let’s get a divorce.” I pushed the divorce papers towards him. Liam slowly looked up, a hint of confusion on his face. “You did this on purpose.” “You deliberately provoked me at the anniversary party, hoping I’d ask for a divorce in front of everyone, didn’t you?” Liam seemed to see right through me. He frowned slightly, then relaxed. “I won’t divorce you, Sophia.” “I promised your mother I would take good care of you.” Mentioning my mother, my heart felt a gentle prod. Yes. Liam carried the burden of my mother’s life-saving grace. He was always a man who repaid his debts and wouldn’t be so ungrateful. After my mother saved Liam in that car accident, her dying wish was, “Liam, I’m entrusting Sophia to you. Please take good care of her…” Liam knelt by my mother’s hospital bed, silent for a long time. Finally, under my mother’s hopeful gaze, he nodded and agreed. “Okay.” “I will take care of Sophia for the rest of my life.” So, even though he was in immense pain. Even though he would secretly go to the study to vent his frustrations alone. Even though he had long grown weary of living with a woman he didn’t love. He never once mentioned divorce. In everyone’s eyes, he had done his utmost. But this kind of life, I no longer wanted. 3 I turned around and booked a few male escorts. After drinks at the bar, I openly brought them home. Liam froze the moment he pushed open the door. On the sofa, on the rug, sitting or lying, was a group of flamboyantly dressed men. As he entered, all the men paused. I watched his slightly pale face and let out a nonchalant sneer. “Why are you looking at him? Look at me. Keep drinking.” I took out all the rare bottles from the liquor cabinet and let them have at it. I deliberately made the party as boisterous as possible, trying to provoke Liam, hoping he’d demand a divorce on the spot. But he said nothing, just quietly went back to his room. The men left in the dead of night. I thought Liam had long gone to sleep in his room, but I found him waiting for me in the study. “Sophia, we need to talk.” I paused, then scoffed. “Finally going to talk about divorce, are we?” I turned around, only to see him frowning as he gathered all the empty bottles. “Don’t drink like this anymore. Alcohol is bad for your health.” He said it with a serious expression. “In the future, if you want to drink, you can have fruit wine. If it’s inconvenient for you to buy it, I can buy some and keep it at home…” I was stunned. I was silent for a long time before coldly speaking. “Don’t men usually go crazy when their wives cheat on them?” “I’ve brought so many men home, why haven’t you asked me for a divorce yet?” “Liam, do you have any backbone?” Liam looked at me with extreme patience, as if watching a child cry and throw a tantrum. “Sophia, I know you wouldn’t cheat.” It was that same light, placid attitude. All my attacks felt like punches landing on cotton. Soft and ineffective. “This is hangover soup I made for you in advance.” Liam placed a bowl on the table. “Remember to drink it. I’m going to sleep now.” The moment he closed the bedroom door, my tears flowed. That bowl of hangover soup was so bitter, just like my heart. Liam didn’t hesitate to show me this gentle side. But I knew, it was different. No matter how kind he was to me, how gentle, it didn't change one fact: he still deeply loved his true love, Sarah Jensen. I had seen it before. The day before our wedding anniversary, Liam, carrying white daisies, went to the cemetery. Liam’s parents were still alive. The only person he would be visiting was Sarah Jensen. There was no other possibility. “I’m sorry, Sarah.” “If only I had stopped you from going on that trip, you wouldn’t have died in that avalanche.” Saying this, Liam covered his face, sobbing uncontrollably. Every time he remembered that disaster, he was filled with extreme regret. In the days after Sarah’s death, he fell gravely ill, even running barefoot to the temple to pray, kneeling for three days straight. He said, “Take my life for hers, please? Let Sarah come back…” But the gods did not hear his pleas. Sarah died. How could the dead ever return to life? I had seen his diary. He wrote Sarah Jensen’s name over and over again. Every stroke, every line, was imbued with all his strength. So I had witnessed firsthand what it looked like when Liam truly loved someone. Even as Liam’s wife, I had never possessed that kind of love. So rather than both of us suffering, it was better to give up. “Let’s get a divorce.” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
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