In the fifth year of our marriage, I asked Liam for a divorce. The reason was that I found potato chip crumbs in his passenger seat. And he had never, ever allowed me to eat in his car. He looked at me with sheer disdain. "Just because of this?" This time, I didn't back down and apologize like I usually did. I just looked at him, completely serious. "Yes. Just because of this." 1 At the car wash, the attendant frowned and asked me: "Ma'am, there are snack crumbs deep in the passenger seat crevices. Do you want to add a premium interior detailing?" I froze, instinctively refuting, "That's impossible." Liam couldn't stand anyone eating in his car. We'd argued about it several times. How could there be snack crumbs in his car? The attendant pointed. I leaned into the car, and there they were—bright yellow potato chip crumbs scattered in the corner of the passenger seat. They even had seasoning powder on them. ... When I drove back, I sat in the underground garage for a long time. Finally, I pulled the memory card from the dashcam. After clicking through, I quickly found the recording from yesterday afternoon after work. After a brief silence, there was the sound of a car door closing, followed by a familiar, cheerful female voice: "You're right on time today!" The voice was sweet, carrying the distinct softness of a young girl. But my heart instantly went ice cold. Liam sounded upbeat: "How'd you get out so early? Didn't your supervisor say anything?" Maya laughed: "They all know about my relationship with you. Who would dare stop me?" If a mature woman like me said that, it would sound manipulative and vain. But coming from a young girl fresh out of college, it just sounded bold and somewhat endearing. Sure enough, Liam let out a soft chuckle and didn't say anything else. I suddenly remembered when we first got married. I was still working at his company. Once, I ran into him in the hallway and wanted to say hi, but he walked right past me like I was a stranger. When I brought it up at home, he just frowned: "I don't want people at the company knowing about our relationship. What would they say about me? That I'm mixing personal and professional business by bringing my wife in?" After that, his parents pressured me to stay home and take care of his daily life, so I just quit and became a housewife. It turned out, it wasn't that he minded people knowing his relationship status. He just minded people knowing his relationship with me. A rustling sound of a snack bag tearing pulled me back to reality. Maya was munching loudly on potato chips. Liam didn't say a word. "Oops," Maya said. "I dropped crumbs on the seat. Sorry." "It's fine." Liam sounded completely unbothered. "I'll just get it washed later." He paused, then added, "Don't eat too much junk food. I'm taking you to a nice French place in a bit." There wasn't much after that. In the dim garage, I sat in the car in utter silence. I tried to stop myself from dwelling on the past, but I couldn't help remembering a morning two years ago. I was rushing to work, hadn't eaten breakfast, and brought a breakfast sandwich into his car. He yelled at me to get out: "Get out! Don't eat in my car!" I frantically explained: "I won't drop crumbs, and it doesn't smell." But he just gave me a look of absolute disgust, stepped on the gas, and sped off. Leaving me standing alone in the garage holding my sandwich. It was raining that day, and I couldn't get an Uber. The heel of my shoe broke while I was running. By the time I got to work, I was a soaking, pathetic mess, and my manager chewed me out. I already had low blood sugar, and without breakfast, I nearly blacked out standing there. I only made it through because a coworker slipped me a packet of crackers. But now, he allowed someone to eat in his car. It turned out his principles weren't unbreakable. He just hadn't met the "special" person to break them for yet. I closed my eyes for a long time, then pulled the divorce papers from my purse. I had printed this agreement six months ago, but I could never find the right moment to bring it out. Honestly, it was because I couldn't bear to let go. I had loved him for so long. He had consumed my entire youth. From the first day I liked him, I waited. I waited for him to see me. Then I waited as he fell in love with the campus queen. He got together with her. His mother disapproved of their relationship, and they broke up. Devastated and under family pressure, he haphazardly chose to be with me. But after waiting all these years, I never waited long enough for him to love me. Actually, the first time I saw Maya, my woman's intuition set off alarm bells. She looked so much like Liam's first love. Bright features, passionate personality, fiery and cute. I noticed his gaze linger on her during the interview, and then he approved her resume. Even though her degree didn't match the company's requirements at all. The first real red flag was a phone call from Maya. They were talking about business, but an intern directly calling the CEO was highly unusual. We were having dinner, and Liam suddenly put down his fork and scrambled to answer the phone. His voice was tight, almost nervous: "Don't worry, I'll call your department head in a bit. He won't blame you." After hanging up, he stared into space for a moment, the corners of his mouth uncontrollably curling up. That night, he was in such a good mood he even hummed a song in the shower. While I felt like I had plunged into an icy abyss. At first, Liam probably didn't intend to cross any lines. They didn't interact much, and their calls were strictly professional. But you can't hide a crush. Even if you cover your mouth, it slips out through your eyes. He started coming home later and later, spending whole nights texting on his phone, acting like a lovestruck teenager. No matter how much I cried or argued, he always shut me down with one sentence: "If you can't handle it, we can get a divorce." And then I would back down. Looking back, what defeated me wasn't him, but my own love. But now, I didn't want to love him anymore. Divorcing over a few potato chip crumbs sounds ridiculous. But it was the final straw that broke the camel's back. 2 When I handed Liam the divorce papers, he was typing on his laptop. He took them impatiently and tossed them aside. "What's this? You want to buy a house again? "I've told you a million times, the housing market right now—" I cut him off: "It's a divorce agreement. You should read it. "There are some asset division details I want to discuss." Liam froze, then casually picked up the document, flipped through it, and sneered: "Claire, since when did you learn how to throw tantrums like this? "I provide for you, give you a great life, and now I have to play along in your little melodrama?" I looked at him calmly. "If you don't have dementia, you'd remember I had a great job. You and your parents forced me to quit to take care of you. "Right now, a live-in housekeeper in this city costs at least $8,000 a month. That's more than enough to support myself. You aren't 'providing' for me; I'm taking care of you. Don't act like you're some savior." Liam looked up in surprise. He clearly didn't expect me to talk to him like this. Then, flustered and angry, he slammed the papers down: "What the hell has gotten into you?!" I said calmly, "I saw the potato chip crumbs in your passenger seat." Liam furrowed his brow: "Just because of that?!" I nodded. "Yes, just because of that. "It doesn't matter if you refuse. I'll just file a contested divorce. Once this blows up, it won't look good for you." Liam stared at me dead in the eye. After a long moment, he snatched the papers back, signed his name furiously, and threw them at me. He sneered: "Are you happy now?! "Claire, let me tell you, don't come crying back begging me like you used to." He added disdainfully, "Like a dog." My heart instantly cramped with pain. In the past, whenever I reached my breaking point and brought up divorce, I was always the one who surrendered and shamelessly begged for reconciliation. He knew exactly where my weak spots were. And he knew exactly how to hurt me. But not anymore. I grabbed my coat. "Let's go. We can submit the paperwork today." Liam didn't mock me this time. His expression gradually turned serious. He stood up and stared at me: "Claire, are you serious? "You realize the house you live in, the car you drive, your entire quality of life is because of me. "Think carefully. Without me, you are nothing." I glanced at him. "Stop stalling. The courthouse closes at five. If we wait any longer, we won't make it." "Fine!" Liam frowned. "Claire, don't regret this." ... Filing for divorce was much more complicated than getting married. There was a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. When we walked out, Liam didn't even look at me. He just got in his car and drove off, leaving me standing alone in front of the courthouse. I took an Uber back to pack my things. Under his livid glare, I only packed some clothes and left. Over the years, most of the things I bought were for him. Now I realized how little I actually owned. One large suitcase was enough for everything. Since I didn't have time to rent an apartment, I checked into a hotel. Lying on the hotel bed, I finally realized that leaving Liam wasn't as hard as I thought. Before, I didn't dare to imagine leaving him. I thought I would die of heartbreak. But now, it didn't hurt as much as I imagined. Instead, I felt a sense of liberation, as if a massive boulder had finally been lifted off my chest. Perhaps I never loved him as much as I thought I did. I was just used to loving him, completely unaware that in this messy, chaotic marriage, my love had been drained away bit by bit. 3 The next day, I wanted to sleep in and enjoy my hard-earned relaxation. But I was woken up bright and early by a phone call. I groggily grabbed my phone and saw it was Susan, Liam's mother. I answered, and her voice immediately rang out: "Sorry to bother you, Claire." Before I could respond, she fired off like a machine gun: "Make sure you remind Liam that it's his uncle's birthday next Wednesday. Don't let him forget to come home. "Oh right, make sure you don't drink. You'll need to drive him back." I rubbed my temples. "Susan, why don't you just call Liam directly?" She said naturally, "Oh, I didn't want to wake him. He works so hard every day. It's not like you, just relaxing at home—" This was her favorite line. In her eyes, Liam sitting in an office all day was exhausting. Me staying home cooking, doing laundry, cleaning, and taking care of all his meals was "relaxing." When she told me to quit my job, she made it sound so nice, saying we'd hire a maid. But the moment I quit, Liam told me he didn't like strangers in the house and told me to do it myself since I had so much free time. I gripped the phone tightly, forcing down my anger: "Sorry, Susan, but you might not know. "Liam and I are getting a divorce." I hung up before she could start screaming on the other end. But my peace didn't last until evening before Liam called. I answered. His voice revealed no emotion: "Come home for a bit. My parents are here." I knew it. Given his mother's personality, she was definitely coming to lecture me. I bluntly refused: "Handle your own family issues. I'm an outsider now. I'm not getting involved." "Your parents are here too." He hung up. Looking at the dark screen, I sighed. Since things had escalated, I couldn't hide from it. Fine. There were things I had wanted to say for a long time anyway. ... When I got to the house, Susan took one look at me and smiled: "You're back? "Oh, it's normal for young couples to fight. Claire was probably just bored at home and wanted some fresh air. "But Claire, fighting every now and then is fine, but Liam has to work to support the family. Plus, your parents are getting older. Making them fly all the way out here is just too much hassle, isn't it?" I frowned slightly. This was what Susan loved to do. She always spoke politely on the surface, but she was a wolf in sheep's clothing, hiding needles in her words. Liam sat on the sofa, acting like he hadn't heard a thing. Just like always. I pushed down the disappointment in my heart, mocking myself: What did you expect? Did you think he'd stand up for you? How could he? Susan was incredibly controlling. She thought Liam's first love was too headstrong, so she threatened suicide to force them apart. Then she picked me—my parents were professors, I had a good background, and a soft personality. I still remember when we got married. She gave me a long lecture on how I needed to properly serve Liam. She talked about how hard it was for him to work, completely ignoring the fact that I had left my hometown and moved to a city where I knew absolutely no one, just to be with him. Later on, she visited frequently. I always thought it was weird how much she hated seeing Liam and me be affectionate. We actually had a good period right after we got married. Liam seemed to want to make it work, and we planned a honeymoon to Tahiti. When she found out, she insisted on coming with us. We didn't want to bring her, but she started crying whenever Liam was around, making him feel guilty. We had no choice but to agree. Those days should have been the happiest of my life, but I still hate thinking about them. It was a complete disaster. She felt I should be Liam's servant, that I didn't need romance, just needed to take care of his basic needs. And the worst part was that she would smile at me while secretly tormenting me. For example, I hated celery. I thought it tasted weird, so I never cooked it. But she said she wanted to cook so I could rest, and then made celery for every single meal. When I said I didn't like it, she'd act incredibly guilty and say she was getting old and forgot. Then she would smilingly put celery on my plate: "Claire, just try it. It's not like the celery outside, it's really good." It made me sick, but refusing felt wrong. I secretly complained to Liam a few times, but he just impatiently said: "My mom is cooking for you at her age, and instead of being grateful, you complain? Claire, do you think you're being reasonable?!" Or during the peak of summer, when Liam went to work, she would hide the AC remote so I couldn't turn it on. The moment Liam got home, the remote magically reappeared. I told her multiple times not to touch my underwear, that I'd wash it myself. But whenever I put it in the laundry basket, she'd immediately toss it in the washing machine with dirty socks. But Liam's clothes were always washed separately. She never mixed his with socks. They weren't massive issues, but they piled up and slowly suffocated me. I became increasingly depressed. Liam noticed, but when he was a kid, his town flooded. His mom carried him on her shoulders so he could survive. She almost drowned and was left with lifelong joint pain that flared up every rainy day. Liam always felt he owed her his life, so he could never criticize her. So he just avoided it. He'd make excuses to work overtime or just sit in his car in the garage, running away from the conflict. That was when the last trace of warmth between us vanished. Our relationship got worse and worse until it was unfixable. This time, I wasn't going to swallow my anger. I looked straight at his mother: "You called my parents here, what does that have to do with me?" She froze: "Claire, you—" I took a step forward: "And stop talking about Liam 'supporting the family.' I had a great job. He asked me to quit and join his company because he needed an accountant he could trust. "When the company stabilized, you two tossed me aside and made me quit to take care of him? "Forget the fact that I was making over a hundred grand a year. Do you know how much it costs to hire a private chef and a maid in this city? How is he 'supporting' me? "You make it sound like if I don't marry him, he'll just stop working." Liam stood up: "Claire, how are you speaking to my mom?!" My anger exploded. I marched right up to him and yelled: "That's YOUR mom, not MY mom! Cut the crap!! "She didn't give birth to me, and she never raised me! I only called her 'Mom' out of respect for you. Now I'm divorcing you, I don't need to play nice!" Liam frowned and tried to speak, but I cut him off: "Now you know how to raise your voice at me?! Where were you when your mom forced me to eat celery?! "Where were you when she turned off the AC in the middle of summer to torture me?! "Where were you when she forced herself on our honeymoon?! "You useless coward, you just hid in the garage and didn't say a damn word! "Liam, how do you have the nerve to say that to me? What kind of a man are you?!" I screamed and yelled, unleashing years of suppressed grievances. By the end, my eyes were bloodshot, my rationality had burned away, and I felt almost manic! Everyone was stunned! Liam's eyes widened, all his words caught in his throat. After a moment, his expression grew complex. I don't know if it was an illusion, but I thought I saw a flash of... guilt in his eyes. My dad's face was livid with anger, while my mom hugged me and started crying. "Oh, sweetheart—" she sobbed. I buried my face in her shoulder and wept silently. I finally realized who I had wronged the most. It was my parents, who had disapproved of Liam but gave in because of my stubbornness. And myself, who had suffered so much! "Look at this girl, crying over such trivial things." Susan quickly recovered, plastering on a fake smile: "We're all family here. I see you have a lot of resentment toward me. "Maybe I'm just getting old and my memory isn't what it used to be. But Claire, I've always treated you like my own daughter—" She could fool the old, hopelessly romantic version of me, but my mom, at her age, just turned her head and spat: "I'm not dead yet, she doesn't need you to be her mother!" Susan looked embarrassed: "Mrs. Bennett, what are you saying? The kids are young and don't know any better, why are you joining in on the drama?" My mom sneered, grabbing my arm: "Before, you cried and begged to marry him. We couldn't stop you. Now that you're finally awake, that's all that matters. "Let's go, Mom is taking you home!" The three of us turned to leave. Liam hurried over to block us: "Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, Claire is just misunderstanding things today. Please don't—" My dad shoved his arm away and said coldly: "I didn't approve when she wanted to marry you, but she loved you, so we had no choice. "We didn't ask for a dowry, didn't ask for a house or a car, and even gave her a wedding gift of fifty grand, just so your family would treat her well. "What did you promise me back then?!" Liam was speechless under my dad's interrogation. My dad suppressed his fury: "You said you'd treat her well. And look at this now!" My dad was usually a jovial man, always greeting Liam warmly. Even when Liam skipped holiday visits, my dad didn't mind, telling me not to argue with Liam because he was busy with his career. This was the first time I had ever seen him so stern. Liam stepped back in shame: "Dad, I—" "Don't call me Dad, I don't have a son like you!" Susan tried to speak again, but my mom turned around fiercely: "Get out of the way! "Before I slap you!" My mom was the gentlest woman, always speaking softly. This was the first time I realized how fiercely she could protect her child. I didn't end up going back to my home state right away. Mainly because there was still the mandatory 30-day waiting period, and I needed to handle the asset division. My parents had to get back to work, so they left me some money and flew back, reminding me: "Don't let them bully you. Take this month to relax. If anything happens, call us immediately." That night, lying in the hotel bed, I had my first good night's sleep in years. In the fourth year of our marriage, whether tortured by his mother or his relationship with Maya, I developed severe insomnia. I would lie awake all night, staring at the ceiling until dawn. For a while, I didn't want to do anything. I just felt exhausted and thought life was pointless. I went to the hospital and was diagnosed with moderate depression. The medication didn't help much. I still couldn't sleep. But now, I closed my eyes and felt completely relieved. I could finally have sweet dreams again. 4 I started sending out resumes and looking for jobs. Even though my parents told me they'd support me and I should take a longer break, I didn't want to be disconnected from society anymore. Actually, I graduated from a better university than Liam. Back then, I had job offers from the Big Four accounting firms. But not long after I started, Liam asked me to quit. His accountant had left, and he needed someone he trusted to take over immediately. Later, when they found a suitable replacement, he told me to quit again. So for these past few years, I was just a housewife. Sometimes, seeing my college classmates' posts on social media—working on Wall Street, starting their own businesses, or finding great jobs back in their hometowns—I felt incredibly inadequate. It felt like I was the only one who had nothing to show for the years except a messy, failed marriage. Thankfully, I was still young. I could start over. ... When I got back to the hotel that night, I got a notification on my phone. It was the smart doorbell camera from the house, notifying me someone was at the door. I was about to swipe it away, but my finger accidentally clicked on it. In the video, Liam and Maya were walking in together. I froze and didn't close the feed. I had barely moved out, and he couldn't wait to bring her home. Makes sense. He probably couldn't wait. He was probably thrilled that I asked for a divorce. Liam looked drunk, his eyes half-closed as he stumbled. Maya struggled to hold him up and help him onto the sofa. Then she poured him a glass of water. Liam took a sip and spat it right out, frowning: "Cold water? "Where's my hangover soup?!" Maya said helplessly: "What hangover soup? I don't know how to make that. Just drink some water for now." Liam threw the glass on the floor and stumbled to his feet. Maya smirked and tried to lead him toward the bedroom. Absolutely disgusting. Thinking about them doing that on the bed I used to sleep in made me nauseous. But surprisingly, a minute later, Liam ran out of the bedroom with his shirt unbuttoned. Maya, wearing only a tiny camisole, chased after him and tried to grab him. He violently shook her off and slurred: "You're not my wife, you're not!—" Maya bit her lip: "I'm Maya. Aren't you divorcing your wife?" "No I'm not!" Liam waved his arms, mumbling incoherently: "I'm not divorced, I'm not divorcing her! "You're not my wife, who are you? Get out!—" Maya, furious and humiliated, hurriedly put her clothes back on and stormed out, slamming the door. Liam tripped and fell onto the floor, groaning in pain: "Claire, I fell." The living room was dead silent. He muttered again: "Claire, my head hurts. Come rub it for me." No response. He just lay there pathetically and fell asleep on the living room floor. I put my phone down, not knowing how to feel. Before the divorce, I thought Liam would immediately get together with Maya. I thought he really liked her. Liam was a man with strict principles. At least, toward me. He wouldn't let me tell the company about us. He wouldn't let me eat in his car. He had so many rules for me. But all those rules went out the window for Maya. He had no principles when it came to her. I hated him so much back then. If I hadn't seen his blatant favoritism toward her, I wouldn't have felt so pitiful. And pathetic. I sneered. He only wanted me back so I could serve him. Every time he came home drunk, I would make him soup, rub his temples until he fell asleep, and prepare a light, soothing breakfast the next morning. He was probably so used to being taken care of. At 2 AM, I woke up thirsty. After getting some water, I couldn't fall back asleep. I opened the camera feed again. Liam was awake. In the pitch-black night, he sat alone on the sofa, staring blankly into space. I didn't know what he was thinking. He seemed to have sobered up a bit. After a long while, he clutched his stomach and rasped: "Claire, my stomach hurts. Where's my stomach medicine?" A few days ago, Liam had been drinking too much at business dinners and ruined his stomach. Even though I had helped him nurse it back to health over the years, it still hurt whenever he drank. I used to sort his medications into boxes, labeling them with sticky notes detailing the dosage and expiration dates. He had taken that medicine so many times, yet he still didn't know where it was kept. The camera had two-way audio, but I didn't say a word. I just watched coldly. Liam hunched over and yelled: "Claire, Claire!—" His only answer was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the night. So he painfully stood up and started rummaging for the medicine. He tore through the neatly organized cabinets, throwing things on the floor. When he checked under the TV stand, he finally found the medicine box I had prepared. He picked it up but didn't take any pills. He just stared blankly at the sticky note on top. Even with my eyes closed, I could remember exactly what it said. "Prescription antacid chewables. 1-2 tablets, 3 times a day. Take 1-2 hours after meals or before bed." I had written that stroke by stroke. I had been so full of naive, foolish love, thinking that sincerity would be met with sincerity. Only at the end did I realize that my desperate devotion was nothing but worthless trash in his eyes. Something to be kicked aside at will. Liam was still crouching there, staring dead at the medicine box, completely motionless. After an unknown amount of time, he slowly buried his face in his knees and remained silent. He didn't take the medicine that night. Instead, he smoked alone in the living room. He just sat there in silence all night.
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