I was hospitalized with severe gastroenteritis for five days, and Shannon didn't come to visit me once. That’s when I knew: it was time for us to get a divorce. That evening, I slid the drafted divorce agreement across the desk to her. She looked up from her computer, her gaze steady, as if she could see right through me. “The day before yesterday, I missed our dinner because I had to help Daniel fix his data analysis. You know he’s a new hire, he’s inexperienced, and he’s an alumni from my college. I’m the only one he can turn to for help.” “Yesterday, he left his tie in my car. I drove back to return it to him, and that’s why I missed our anniversary.” “Today, his presentation had a massive error, and he only had three hours before the deadline. He’s on my team; I couldn't just leave him hanging.” “I know you’ve always been bothered by his presence. I can show you my phone and the office security footage to prove there’s nothing going on between us.” “As for you being hospitalized with gastroenteritis, I saw your text. But the company group chats were blowing up, and I just forgot to reply in the moment. That’s everything. I’ve explained it all clearly. If you still want a divorce after this, then I will cooperate.” I looked at her calmly. Over the past few days, she had done so much for Daniel. She, who always kept a strict sleep schedule, had stayed up late three nights in a row for him. Yet, she forgot to stop by the hospital even once to check on me, her husband, lying in a hospital bed. I nodded. “Let’s just get the divorce.” Chapter 1 I waited at the county clerk’s office until the staff went home for the day. Shannon never showed up. When she finally got home, it was already 11:00 PM. Seeing me on the couch, she didn't say a word and walked straight to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. I spoke up. “I called you thirteen times. You didn't answer.” She paused mid-sip, pulled out her phone to check, and showed absolutely no emotion. “I turned my phone off for a meeting today and forgot to turn it back on. What’s up?” Her tone was so incredibly flat, like she was casually remarking on the weather. I knew it. She had forgotten our appointment. Again. She always had a terrible memory when it came to me. In our seven years of marriage, this kind of thing had happened countless times. From the little things, like asking her to turn off the AC before leaving, or asking her to pick up takeout on her way home. To the massive things, like when my dad was terminally ill. His final wish was to see his family one last time. I asked her to take just one day off work. Just one day to fly back to my hometown with me. She agreed. But my dad passed away, and she still hadn't arrived. I only found out later. That day was Daniel’s first time taking the lead on a project, and he was nervous. She had promised him she would be there in person to support him and have his back. That was the very first time I truly realized that I carried absolutely zero weight in Shannon’s heart. The realization felt like a dull plastic knife being dragged forcefully across my chest—it hurt, but it wasn't enough to kill me. I pulled myself out of my thoughts and kindly explained to her: “We had an appointment to file the divorce papers today.” “Tomorrow is Saturday, and they’re fully booked. I rescheduled us for Monday morning.” Shannon kept her eyes glued to her lit phone screen, never once looking at me. “Fine. See you at the clerk’s office on Monday.” I nodded. Monday came. Shannon and I signed the divorce papers. After the mandatory 30-day waiting period, we would finalize the dissolution of marriage. After signing, Shannon kept her head down, her thumbs flying across her phone screen, replying to someone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. On her screen, a contact with a generic grey avatar had just sent her a string of crying emojis. We walked out the doors of the courthouse. Shannon said to me, “I have an emergency at the office. I can’t give you a ride—” I nodded and pointed to the Uber that had already pulled up to the curb. “My ride is here. Go ahead and get back to work.” The Uber was parked right next to her car. I opened the door and got in. I didn't look back at Shannon standing outside the car. Chapter 2 I texted my buddy, Mark, to let him know I was divorcing Shannon, and asked him to keep an eye out for a decent apartment for me. My hometown was in the Midwest, over a thousand miles away from Seattle. I had sold my house back home years ago to help pay for my dad’s medical bills. The condo I was living in now was mostly paid for by Shannon, and the deed was in her name. After the divorce, I had to move out. I was basically homeless. Mark quickly sent me three listings for suitable apartments. Just as I was about to hop on a FaceTime call with a leasing agent, a text from Shannon popped up. [Thai Basil Chicken and Mango Sticky Rice.] [Get here early, I have a meeting at 1:30 PM.] I stared at the two messages, and calmly swiped to delete them. Shannon worked insane hours, and she rarely ate on time or ate well. After she collapsed from severe stomach ulcers and was hospitalized a few years ago, I started researching recipes online. From that day on, I cooked and delivered a hot, stomach-friendly meal to her office every single day. She ate whatever I made, rarely complaining. I kept this up for three years, and Shannon’s stomach ulcers never flared up again. Six months ago, she suddenly started requesting specific dishes. I thought she was just getting bored of the usual bland, stomach-soothing meals, so I started putting extra effort into modifying the recipes. Until that one day. I saw the text messages between her and Daniel on her phone. Daniel: [Hey Shannon, what delicious food did Nathan make today?] Daniel: [Ugh, steamed veggies again? I hate steamed food.] Daniel: [Can you tell Nathan to stop making steamed stuff next time? I want stir-fry.] Daniel: [Nathan is such a good homemaker. I literally can't cook to save my life. You're so lucky, Shannon.] Shannon had replied: Shannon: [You are completely different from him. Don't put yourself down like that.] Shannon: [One person is crushing it in the corporate world, the other is a stay-at-home husband. There is zero comparison.] Shannon: [A person can't be completely useless. Staying at home, cooking is the only thing he can actually do.] Seeing those words at the time, I was devastated. So, I confronted Shannon and asked her directly. She was surprised I had read her messages, but she wasn't angry. She just answered me calmly and casually. “Oh, Daniel has a bad stomach and can't eat takeout all the time. The food you make happens to be perfect for him, and it's super nutritious. Why not kill two birds with one stone?” Her light, dismissive tone felt like a sledgehammer, violently shattering my warm, devoted heart into a million pieces. I had sweated in the kitchen for hours, constantly studying recipe books in my free time. My meticulously prepared meals, my unwavering devotion. It all just became a casual joke for her to comfort another man. The truth was, I wasn't unemployed. I worked as a freelance technical translator in my spare time. The massive stacks of foreign language dictionaries I used for work were sitting right there on the bookshelf. It’s just that she never cared enough to notice. After finalizing a lease on a new apartment, I felt a massive weight lift off my shoulders. Mark said since I was back on the market, he was going to take me out and make me pay for a massive steak dinner. I happily agreed. When Shannon finally called me, I was dozing off on my new couch. “Nathan, didn't you see my texts?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to wake up. “I saw them. What’s up?” The woman on the other end of the line suddenly fell silent. A moment later, I heard her say: “I haven't eaten lunch yet.” “You can order UberEats.” “Didn't you always hate it when I ate takeout?” Her tone was so incredibly confused. I felt a wave of exhaustion, and spoke to her with genuine sincerity. “Cooking for you wasn't a legal obligation. I did it voluntarily because it broke my heart to see you in pain from your ulcers.” “But Shannon, we signed the divorce papers a week ago.” Chapter 3 After Shannon hung up the phone, I went back to my bedroom and slept until it was pitch black outside. When I walked out of my room, I saw Daniel supporting Shannon as they pushed the front door open. The leg of her slacks was torn; she had clearly taken a bad fall. Daniel followed closely behind her, his eyes red, urgently nagging her. “Shannon, slow down! Your leg is still bleeding!” Seeing me, Daniel immediately started complaining to me. “Nathan, you have to talk some sense into Shannon! We went to a client dinner today, and the client wanted me to take a shot of whiskey. Shannon absolutely refused to let me drink it. When we were leaving, the client 'accidentally' bumped into her, and she fell down a flight of stairs and scraped her leg.” “Taking one shot wouldn't have killed me, I can handle my liquor. Why did she have to play the hero?” Daniel said he wanted me to "talk some sense into her," but the smug, upward tilt of his lips was painfully obvious, and his act of being angry was terribly unconvincing. So I didn't say a single word. I just nodded and turned back toward my room. I had lived in this condo for five years; I had a lot of things to pack up and organize. From the living room, I could periodically hear Daniel’s laughter. A little while later, there was a knock on my door. I got up and opened it. Shannon was leaning against the doorframe for support, asking me: “Where is the first-aid kit?” She pulled up her pant leg, showing me the bloody scrape on her shin. I glanced at it, then looked away, my tone laced with genuine confusion. “The first-aid kit? Didn't you take it to Daniel’s apartment?” Three months ago, Daniel bought an electric scooter to commute to work. On his very first day riding it, he crashed and scraped himself up. The moment Shannon got the phone call, she abandoned me on my birthday and rushed out to find him. Later that same week, I accidentally burned my hand while cooking. I couldn't find the first-aid kit, so I called Shannon. Daniel answered her phone. “The first-aid kit?” “Hey Nathan, I crashed my scooter, so Shannon brought the first-aid kit over to my place. Can you just tough it out for a bit? I’ll have Shannon bring it back to you tonight.” Shannon’s usually stoic face finally showed a flicker of emotion. She had clearly just remembered. “I forgot.” I smiled, nodding in total agreement. “You do have a terrible memory.” On the day Daniel answered that phone call... I was so furious that when Shannon got home, I confronted her. I asked her why she gave our household necessities to another man. She wouldn't even look me in the eye. Her gaze remained fixed on her laptop screen, typing away as she spoke. “It's just a first-aid kit.” “It sits in the house all year and nobody uses it. I gave it to him, so what?” But that first-aid kit... every single month, I meticulously checked the expiration dates on all the medications and restocked it with new supplies. Every single item inside was carefully curated by me, representing my desire to protect this household. And she casually handed it over to another man. Just like every meal I poured my heart into making... with a casual wave of her hand, it became someone else's dinner. I reminded her: “You can order medical supplies on DoorDash now. If there's nothing else, I have to get back to packing.” With that, I shut the door, completely ignoring the two people standing outside. Shannon stared blankly at the tightly closed door. Her heart suddenly felt a little empty. Chapter 4 The days passed one by one. I slowly shipped the boxes I packed back to my hometown. The condo I had lived in for five years was gradually becoming empty. It was like the vessel that held all my memories was being slowly drained dry. I thought the last few days of the waiting period would pass by quietly. But Shannon suddenly changed. She became oddly domesticated. The woman who used to be obsessed with working late suddenly started coming home exactly at 5:00 PM. The person who never cared about my needs started buying me breakfast and bringing home late-night snacks. I couldn't figure out what her angle was, so I finally asked her what she was doing. Shannon was rarely caught off guard, but she hesitated for a long time before answering. “My mom called and said she wanted to have a family dinner. She wants us to come over.” I hesitated for a moment, but eventually agreed. I had always gotten along great with Shannon’s parents, and they treated me like their own son. Since we were getting divorced, it was only right to see them one last time to say goodbye. It was drizzling on the day we went to the restaurant. Her parents had already ordered, and the table was covered with mostly my favorite dishes. Shannon’s mom used the serving spoons to place a generous piece of braised pork into my bowl. She smiled and started chatting about how the neighbor’s daughter-in-law just had her second baby. Then, she seamlessly pivoted the conversation to me and Shannon. “When are you two going to start thinking about having a kid?” “While your dad and I still have the energy to help you babysit.” In the past, I probably would have smiled and openly said we weren't in a rush. But this time, I didn't say anything. I kept my head down and quietly ate the piece of pork sitting on top of my rice. The table went completely silent for a good ten seconds. Her parents exchanged confused looks. Shannon reached under the table and grabbed my hand, her tone firm: “Very soon.” Her parents' faces lit up with smiles. I gently pulled my hand out of her grip. Shannon was focused on checking an email on her phone and didn't seem to notice. After dinner, Shannon’s mom pulled me aside to chat. Shannon’s phone rang several times, but she ignored it. Her mom nudged her arm. “It's so loud. I'm trying to talk to Nathan.” Shannon glanced at me. “Work emergency. I need to take this.” By the time the table was cleared, Shannon still hadn't returned. I tried calling her, but she didn't answer. Her parents tried calling her, and still, no response. Staring out at the pouring rain, my mind suddenly flashed back to a specific day. I was walking past Shannon’s office building when a massive torrential downpour started. There were no Ubers available on the app. I waited until exactly 5:00 PM, when Shannon got off work, and called her. The moment the call connected. I saw a familiar car parked just down the street. I saw Shannon in the driver's seat, and Daniel sitting in the passenger seat. Shannon asked me what was wrong. I told her it was pouring rain, and asked if she could come pick me up since I wasn't far away. She replied: “Just wait for an Uber. I'm stuck at the office working overtime.” Right after she said that, the boy next to her reached over and offered her a potato chip. She covered the phone, turned her head slightly as if to decline, but eventually gave in and ate it. She lied so smoothly, so naturally, that for a second I actually thought I had identified the wrong car. I spent dozens of sleepless nights overthinking that day. Eventually, I figured it out. She didn't love me, so she didn't care. Just like how she didn't like potato chips, but she wouldn't refuse when Daniel brought one to her lips. Just like how she didn't like eating leftovers, and wouldn't touch a single bite of the noodles I made for her if they got cold. The rain finally stopped. I called an Uber and took her parents home. In the middle of the night. I heard the sound of Shannon coming home. She was talking loudly on the phone. Through the thin drywall, I clearly heard her let out an exasperated sigh and say, “Daniel.” When I woke up the next morning. My phone had over a dozen missed calls from Daniel. There were also unread text messages from him. Daniel: [Nathan, Shannon and I haven't crossed any lines! Please tell her not to transfer me to another department!] Daniel: [She said you misunderstood and want to divorce her. I swear I didn't mean to cause trouble. I’ll keep my distance from now on, just please don't let her fire me!] I stared blankly at those two messages. I didn't reply, just placed my phone face down on the desk. I started packing the last few pieces of clothing I had left in the guest room. Shannon pushed the door open, her tone frantic and urgent. “Nathan, what exactly did you say to Daniel?” “He said he was going to explain everything to you, but now he's disappeared! I can't reach him anywhere!” “What did you say to him?!” Her chest was heaving heavily, and she glared at me unblinkingly. She was usually so reserved and collected; she rarely had such intense emotional outbursts. And yet, she was losing her mind over another man. I pulled up the chat with Daniel and held the phone up to her face. “I have no idea what happened between you two last night to drag me into this.” “When he sent these messages, I was asleep. And frankly, I don't feel any obligation to reply to him.” Shannon opened her mouth to speak, but her phone started ringing. Seeing the caller ID, her frantic expression instantly morphed into relief, and then back to worry. “Come back first. We can talk about everything else later.” “Do you really want your parents to keep leeching off you?! Come back!” “Then come stay at my place!” “It’s a three-bedroom apartment. It's just me and Nathan here.” As she said that, she shot a look at me and put the phone on speaker, holding it out to me. Daniel’s tearful, choked-up voice blared loudly through the speaker. “Nathan, I'm so sorry, I know this is a huge inconvenience.” “I ended my lease because I was planning to move back to my hometown, but Shannon insisted I come back. I can't find an apartment on such short notice. Can I please crash with you guys for a little bit?” “I swear, the second I find a place, I'll move out. Please.” Meeting Shannon’s heavily suggestive gaze, I felt my fingertips go cold, and then I just wanted to laugh. “Sure. Welcome to our home.” On the other end of the line, Daniel cheered with joy. Shannon meticulously gave him instructions. “Wait for me at the airport. I'm on my way.” She hung up the phone and turned to me. “I'm going to pick Daniel up and come right back. Could you set up the guest room for him?” I reminded her: “Can't Daniel just take an Uber? There’s an appointment we need to go to together.” Shannon frowned deeply. “I already promised him. I can't just go back on my word.” “It's only a three-hour round trip. Whatever it is, it can wait until I get back.” “Right.” “I'm leaving then.” She hurried out the door. She didn't even notice the small duffel bag sitting right next to me. I waited for Shannon for three hours. She never came back. I scrolled through my phone and saw an Instagram post Daniel had made ten minutes ago. [I was so depressed today, but Shannon insisted on taking me to the auto show! What guy can say no to an auto show? I know I can't! ~] I 'liked' his post. I stood up. I grabbed the duffel bag containing the last set of clothes I owned. And I walked out of the condo I had lived in for five years. After leaving the county clerk's office, I sent a photo of the finalized divorce decree to Shannon, and headed straight to the airport. Seven hours later, my flight landed in my hometown. I got into my buddy Mark's car, who had been waiting for me at the arrivals curb. While listening to him ramble on about all the new developments in our hometown, I turned on my phone. Messages flooded my screen like an avalanche.
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