On our third wedding anniversary, Liam cooked steak for me himself. Under the flickering candlelight, his phone suddenly lit up. The name "Aurora" flashed on the screen. He froze mid-cut, set his fork and knife down, and elegantly wiped his hands with a napkin. "I’m sorry, Jennifer." He looked at me, his eyes as gentle as a warm spring breeze. "Aurora ran into some trouble over there. I need to go help her." I sat on the opposite side of the long table, my face unable to form any expression to make him stay. He walked over, gently ruffled my hair out of habit, and spoke in a pampering tone, as if soothing a child. "Be good, don't be mad. I’ll bring you your favorite chestnut cake tomorrow, okay?" He forgot that I am severely allergic to chestnuts. One bite, and I would go into anaphylactic shock. "Jennifer, since when did you learn to play such childish games?" Liam stood in the foyer, holding the thin piece of paper. He had just put on his custom leather shoes, his dark gray suit jacket draped over his arm. The overhead light in the entryway hit his face, highlighting his sharp brow bone and straight nose. His tone wasn't harsh. In fact, he had a trace of a helpless smile on his face. Like he was looking at a throwing-a-tantrum child. I stood three steps away from him, my hands hanging loosely at my sides. "It’s not a game." I looked into his eyes, my voice flat, without a single ripple of emotion. "I’ve already signed it." Liam looked down at the paper. The bolded words DIVORCE AGREEMENT stared back at him, incredibly sharp against the white paper. He flicked the edge of the paper with his long fingers, making a sharp snap. "All of this just because of Aurora’s call?" He sighed, took a step forward, and reached out to touch my cheek. I tilted my head slightly, dodging his touch. His hand froze in mid-air, then he naturally pulled it back and slipped it into his trouser pocket. "Jennifer, we’ve been married for three years. You’ve always been a smart, sensible girl." Liam’s voice was deep, carrying his usual calm composure. "Aurora just moved back to the country. She doesn’t know anyone here." "Her car broke down, and she was scared to death being alone on the highway." "You usually cry over a stray cat, yet now you’re throwing a fit over a friend in need?" He stared at my face. I suffer from facial neuropathy. My facial nerves are damaged. Whether I am happy or dying of heartbreak, my face remains a stiff, expressionless mask. Liam once said he loved my cold, low-maintenance look. He liked that I didn’t overreact like other women, and that I never cried or threw tantrums over minor things. "I’m not throwing a fit," I stated calmly. "I just want a divorce." Liam’s brows finally knitted together. He casually threw the agreement onto the shoe cabinet nearby. "Jennifer, there is a limit to throwing tantrums." His tone grew colder. "I had a lot of work at the office today, but I still made time to celebrate our anniversary." "Now Aurora has an emergency. I’m going to handle it, and I’ll be back in two hours at most." "You pulling out this paper—are you trying to make me feel guilty, or are you trying to prove how important you are to me?" He looked down at me, his eyes filled with absolute certainty. He was certain I could never leave him. He was certain that beneath my expressionless face lay a deep, pathetic obsession with him. "Liam," I called his name. My vocal cords felt dry because I hadn’t spoken much in a while. "I made the division of assets very clear. I’m walking away with nothing." "This house, and the car you bought me before—I’m leaving them all to you." "If you don't have any objections, sign the bottom right corner. See you at City Hall tomorrow morning at nine." Liam stared at me for ten long seconds. He seemed to be searching for a crack in my face, a trace of faked grievance, or a hint of playing hard to get. But he found nothing. I was like a pool of stagnant water. Not a single ripple. Suddenly, he let out a laugh. It was a mix of mockery and indulgence. "Fine, Jennifer. Since you want to play this game so badly, I'll play along." He pulled his Montblanc pen from his inner suit pocket. He unscrewed the cap in one smooth motion. He signed his name on the bottom right corner of the agreement in a wild, cursive flourish. The pen tip scratched loudly against the paper. "I’ve signed it." He capped the pen and pushed the paper toward me. "I’ll have John drive you to City Hall tomorrow at nine." "I hope you sleep well tonight. Just don't cry and beg me to tear this paper up tomorrow morning." He adjusted his tie. That tie was bought with half of my monthly salary last month. The dark red stripes matched his suit perfectly today. "I’m leaving. Eat dinner by yourself." He pulled the door open. The night wind rushed in, blowing the hem of my dress. "Remember to take your meds," he left his final words without turning around. The door clicked shut, and the foyer fell back into a dead silence. I walked over and picked up the signed agreement. Liam’s handwriting was beautiful and sharp. I stared at the name for a moment, then folded the paper neatly and put it into my canvas tote bag.
The candles in the dining room were still flickering, but the steak on the table had gone completely cold. I walked back, pulled out my chair, and sat down. Picking up my fork and knife, I cut a piece of the rare beef and put it in my mouth. Cold beef was hard to chew and tasted slightly metallic. I didn't spit it out. I chewed it slowly, bit by bit, and swallowed it. After finishing the last bite, I poured myself a glass of red wine and drank it in one gulp. My stomach cramped slightly. I stood up and began cleaning the table. I put the plates and silverware into the dishwasher and pressed start. The machine hummed softly. I walked into the bedroom and pulled a black suitcase out from under the bed. I had brought this suitcase with me when I moved in three years ago. For three years, it had sat quietly in the corner, gathering a thin layer of dust. I grabbed a damp cloth and wiped the dust off. Unzipping it, the faint scent of old mothballs drifted out. I opened the closet. It was huge, taking up an entire wall. It was stuffed with high-end seasonal designer clothes, mostly in white. White silk dresses, white cashmere coats, white lace shirts. Liam always said I had fair skin and looked best in white. But that wasn't the truth. On Aurora’s Instagram, she was always wearing white dresses, smiling like an innocent angel. I didn’t touch any of those expensive clothes. Instead, I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a few old clothes from my college days. A faded gray hoodie. Two pairs of jeans with worn-out knees, and a few plain cotton t-shirts. I folded them neatly and placed them in the suitcase. While packing my toiletries, I looked at the matching electric toothbrushes on the vanity. Liam’s was navy blue; mine was light pink. I pulled the pink brush head off and threw it into the trash can. Then, I grabbed a cheap, unopened manual toothbrush from the cabinet and slipped it into my travel bag. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was a Snapchat message from Liam. `[Wire Transfer: $100,000]` Right after, a voice message popped up. I tapped it, and Liam’s deep voice echoed in the empty bedroom. "Jennifer, I’ve handled things for Aurora. She was pretty shaken up, so I’m dropping her off at her hotel." "That bakery was closed, so I’ll have my assistant get you cake from another place tomorrow." "I sent you some pocket money. Go buy a bag you like. Don’t be mad anymore." His tone was still so gentle, so entitled. As if our conversation about divorce in the foyer had just been a harmless joke. As if he truly believed that a hundred thousand dollars could buy off a wife's pain of being abandoned on her anniversary. I stared at the screen, my finger hovering in the air for two seconds. Then, I tapped "Decline." The screen popped up a notification: `[$100,000 has been returned to sender.]` I didn't reply to his voice message and locked the screen. The screen went black, reflecting my expressionless face. I went back to packing. On the desk was a picture frame containing the only photo from our wedding. In the photo, Liam wore a black tuxedo with a polite smile. I wore a white wedding gown, staring blankly at the camera. The photographer had kept begging me to smile, but I couldn't. Liam had told him, "It’s fine, she’s just like this. Just take it." I picked up the frame and took the photo out. On the back, there was a line written in pencil in my handwriting: Liam, today I became your wife. I found a pair of scissors and slowly cut down the middle, right between the two of us. With a sharp snip, the photo was split in half. I threw the half with Liam into the trash can. The half with me, I slipped inside an old book.
The next morning at 8:30 AM. Carrying my canvas bag, I walked out of the apartment building right on time. A black Maybach was parked by the curb. The window rolled down, revealing Liam’s handsome face. He had changed into a dark blue suit today. His hair was perfectly styled, and he looked sharp. "Get in," he said calmly. I opened the passenger door and sat inside. A faint scent of perfume drifted through the car. It was the sweet, sickly jasmine scent Aurora always wore. I didn’t say a word. I silently pulled the seatbelt over and buckled up. Liam started the engine. "Did you eat breakfast?" he asked casually, his long fingers resting on the steering wheel. "Yes," I replied, watching the city streets slip past the window. "Did Martha make you a sandwich?" "No, I made pasta." Liam let out a soft laugh. "With your cooking skills, is that pasta even edible?" There was a trace of familiarity in his tone that he didn't even notice. As if we were just a regular couple heading to work, not heading to City Hall to file for divorce. The car moved slowly through the morning rush hour traffic. "Jennifer," Liam suddenly spoke, his voice losing its casual tone. "I thought about it last night." "Aurora just got back, and she needs my help with a lot of things. I might be busy for a while." "If you’re bored at home by yourself, sign up for a flower arrangement class, or go have brunch with your friends." "Let me know if you need more money." He turned to glance at me. "I’ll pretend I never saw that agreement from yesterday. I’ll have John take you back at the next intersection." He still thought I was just acting out. He thought I was using the extreme threat of divorce just to get his attention. "Liam," I turned my head to meet his gaze. "I brought the agreement, and all my documents are in my bag." "Take a left at the next intersection. That’s City Hall." Liam’s face finally darkened. He slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt at a red light, the tires protesting against the asphalt. He turned his body fully toward me, glaring at me. "Are you serious?" his voice was dangerously low. "Yes," I replied without flinching. The air in the car seemed to freeze. The scent of jasmine became incredibly suffocating. The light turned green, and the cars behind us started honking. Liam snapped his gaze back to the road and slammed on the gas. The Maybach shot forward like an arrow. At exactly 9:00 AM, we walked into the City Hall clerk's office. It wasn't crowded today. We sat down in front of the counter. The clerk looked at our agreement, then at Liam, and finally at me. "Are you sure about the division of assets? The wife is leaving with absolutely nothing?" the clerk double-checked. "Yes," I replied flatly. Liam sat beside me, his face grim. His hands rested on his knees, the veins on the back of his hands bulging slightly. "Sir, do you confirm?" the clerk asked him. Liam turned to look at me. A storm of complex emotions flashed through his eyes—anger, confusion, and a hint of panic he refused to admit. But in the end, he sneered, "I confirm." "Alright. This is your 30-day cooling-off notice," the clerk handed us two copies. "In thirty days, if neither of you files a motion to dismiss, come back with this notice to collect your final divorce decree." I took the paper, folded it carefully, and put it in my bag. Liam didn't even look at his copy. He stood up immediately and walked out. I followed him out of the building. The sunlight was a bit blinding. "Jennifer," Liam stopped on the steps, turning to look down at me. "Thirty days. I’m giving you thirty days to calm down." "If you still want to play this game in thirty days, I’ll give you what you want." He looked down at me, as if granting me his ultimate mercy. I didn't say anything. I looked down at an ant on the steps, struggling to drag a breadcrumb three times its size.
Three days after visiting City Hall. I began packing the last of my personal belongings. The living room was quiet, save for the harsh sound of packing tape being ripped. The door lock clicked, and Liam walked in. Following right behind him was Aurora, wearing a white summer dress. She looked fragile and pale, like a delicate greenhouse flower that needed constant protection. "Liam, is it okay for me to drop by like this? Will I bother Jennifer?" Aurora’s voice was soft, laced with a timid, testing tone. "No," Liam said flatly as he changed his shoes. "She’s usually just idling around the house anyway." He looked up and saw the two cardboard boxes sitting in the living room. His brows twitched slightly. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Packing," I said, holding a roll of tape, looking at him calmly. Liam let out a cold laugh. "Jennifer, cut the act. It’s getting old." He turned to Aurora. "Aurora, go sit on the couch. I’m going to the study to grab those stock transfer papers." Aurora nodded obediently. She walked over to the couch and sat down, her eyes scanning the room. Finally, her gaze landed on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. A few of my old books were stacked there. Peeking out from between them was a dark red leather cover. It was my diary. It held three years of thoughts I could never say out loud. Aurora stood up and walked over slowly. "Jennifer, do you read these kinds of books too?" She smiled at me, her hand already reaching for the diary. I dropped the tape and stepped in front of her. "Don't touch it." My voice was flat, but my eyes grew cold. Aurora’s hand froze in mid-air. As if she had been deeply insulted, her eyes instantly welled up with tears. "I’m sorry, Jennifer... I was just curious..." The study door opened, and Liam walked out with a folder in his hand. Seeing the scene, his face immediately darkened. "Jennifer, what are you doing?" He walked over quickly, pulling Aurora behind him. "Aurora was just looking at a book. Do you really have to be so hostile?" He looked at me with clear blame in his eyes. "That’s not a book," I said, my voice as calm as still water. "It’s my personal property." "What personal property could possibly be that precious?" Liam sneered. His gaze swept across the shelf and landed on a small pot of mint. I had grown that mint for three years. From a tiny seed, I had nurtured it until it became lush and green. Liam reached out and picked up the pot. "Aurora hasn't been sleeping well lately. Mint helps with sleep." He turned to look at me. "I’m taking this pot. Consider it an apology for your rudeness to Aurora just now." He didn't even ask what that mint meant to me. He took what was mine as a matter of course to please another woman. I looked at the vibrant green mint. A drop of water from my morning watering was still clinging to a leaf. "Okay," I said. Liam didn't seem to expect me to agree so easily. He froze for a second, then a look of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. "At least you’re being sensible." Holding the mint in one hand, he wrapped his other arm around Aurora’s shoulder and walked toward the door. At the entryway, he stopped and looked back at me. A patronizing smile curled on his lips. "I have a business dinner tonight. When I get back, I’ll take you to that sushi place you like." I watched them walk out side by side. I watched the door slowly close. I walked to the bookshelf, pulled out the diary that was sticking out, and shoved it deep into the darkest corner of the shelf—a dead angle that no one would ever notice. Along with my pathetic self from the last three years, and Liam, I buried it all.
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