In the seventh year of our marriage, he made the decision for me and agreed to put us on a divorce reality show. The reasons were impeccable—high ratings, high returns, a reliable way to stabilize the company’s stock price. In short, not a single one had anything to do with me. As always, I simply nodded and played along. On the day of filming, he already had the script written in his head: I would lose control, and he would step in afterward and magnanimous. But the moment the lights came on, I felt an unexpected clarity. So I looked straight into the camera and said evenly, “I want a divorce.” I think that when he agreed to join the show, he must have already prepared himself to be devoured by his own plan. When my agent informed me about participating in a divorce-themed reality show, I paused. “James agreed?” “Of course.” She seemed amused by my question. “Your recent livestreams haven’t performed well, and celebrity divorce topics are trending right now. James specifically cleared ten days in his schedule to film with you. Make the most of this opportunity – it’s the least you can do after all his support.” I remained silent. The word “support” was interesting – it suggested a mentor and mentee, a teacher and student, business partners. Anything but husband and wife. “Just sign it.” She tossed the contract in front of me. I stared at the thin stack of papers without moving. She glanced at me with a smirk. “Relax, it’s not a real divorce.” “I’ll review the show’s content first and let you know when I’ve signed.” She frowned, clearly displeased. “James has already approved this.” As she left, her parting words floated back: “Why make things so difficult? You’ll end up signing anyway.”
That evening, James called. When his deep, magnetic voice came through, I felt strangely unfamiliar with it. His latest company project had kept us apart for two months. His phone was usually with his assistant Chloe. To reach him, I had to explain my purpose to her first, and she would decide if the call was worth passing through. So I generally didn’t bother trying. “Sophia.” Music played softly in the background. “I heard you were being difficult today?” I paused. “Heard? From whom?” He sounded annoyed. “I’m too busy these days to coach you, but you need to grow up. Work is work – you need to be professional, not act like a child.” I gave a soft “Oh.” “About that reality show – word travels fast. I see the agent complained to Chloe. And being difficult? Just because I said I wanted to review the contract before signing?” The phone went quiet for two seconds before his slightly weary voice returned. “You didn’t even finish college. What could you possibly understand about contracts?” “Everything’s been prepared for you. You just need to sign. Everyone’s already exhausted, why can’t you be more considerate instead of creating obstacles for the staff?” “Sophia, when will you ever mature…” That tone again. For years, whenever I didn’t follow his instructions, whenever I expressed my own opinions, I faced this attitude from him. Mild reproach mixed with hints of disappointment and resignation. The familiar suffocating feeling rose from deep within, blocking my chest, choking my throat until I couldn’t speak. “James!” A soft, pleasant female voice cut in. “I think I can guess what Mrs. Thompson is concerned about.” It was Chloe. James didn’t respond. His silence was acceptance. Chloe let out two melodious laughs and continued smoothly. “This is a divorce reality show after all. Mrs. Thompson has to declare she wants a divorce in front of a national audience. She loves you so much, naturally she’s worried that pretending might accidentally become reality.” “So James, this is actually your fault. You didn’t consider her feelings and handled it too roughly. Her sulking is understandable.” I froze. Setting aside her presumptuous interpretation of my feelings and dismissing my concerns as mere sulking… She was criticizing James. Criticizing the usually towering, all-knowing James of being wrong. I couldn’t help but be curious about his reaction. Over the phone, James was quiet for a moment before giving a low “Mm.” “Chloe makes a good point. Sophia, I didn’t think this through properly.” In that instant, I let out a silent laugh. Outside, the few remaining leaves on the sycamore tree were caught by an autumn breeze from somewhere, falling silently to the ground. “However,” James continued, “besides being husband and wife, we’re also business partners with cross-holdings in multiple companies. Divorce would benefit neither of us. These worries of yours – if you’d just think it through logically, you’d know they’re unnecessary. Sophia, you’ve been with me for five years. I thought you’d learned to analyze situations objectively by now. You need to work on this – learn from Chloe’s example.” Chloe and I were both twenty-seven. We’d met James in the same year. The difference was that she came from an elite background, graduated from Stanford, and possessed both intelligence and grace – the perfect combination of beauty and brains. I was just a reality show contestant who dropped out of college to act, making a name for myself solely on looks. Critics said of me, “Beautiful, yes, but soulless.” Initially, I actually thought James would choose her… Now, James had finished speaking and fallen silent. He was waiting for me to apologize and reflect, like always. He would incisively point out my shallow understanding and immature mindset, and I would sincerely reflect, accepting his criticism or working harder. But this time, I said nothing. Through the phone, only the tireless background music continued to flow. After a while, I asked: “You have me on speaker?” One of our few arguments in four years of marriage had been when I called him to be affectionate one time and heard Chloe’s sudden laughter. Later, discovering he had me on speaker, I was mortified and furious, crying hard until he promised it would never happen again. Back then, our relationship had still been good. He had promised. “Sophia.” James clearly remembered this incident. “Chloe had some wine at dinner, I’m driving with navigation on, so—” “It’s fine, I was just asking.” I laughed noncommittally, my eyes falling on the signature line at the bottom of the contract. “I’ve signed the contract. I’ll give it to the agent tomorrow.” James was satisfied. Satisfied that I hadn’t dwelled on Chloe’s presence. Satisfied that I had once again docilely accepted his arrangements. “You’ve always wanted to visit Altai, haven’t you? Once things settle down, I’ll make time to take you there.” “We’ll see.” I hung up the phone.
My first meeting with James after two months was on set. My agent dropped me off, while Chloe accompanied him. Two cars arrived from different directions, doors opening simultaneously. He was in the middle of a conference call, standing sideways in his impeccable suit, his profile cutting a striking figure. Chloe wore a navy fitted trench coat, her long hair dancing in the wind as she waited quietly beside him. I tilted my head, observing them. I had to admit they made a stunning pair. My agent abandoned me to hurry over to them. “Mr. Thompson!” “Ms. Chloe!” Chloe merely nodded, indicating not to disturb him. She didn’t glance my way once. The three of them stood together on one side. On the other, I silently unloaded my own luggage. Though the cars weren’t far apart, it felt like we were separated by galaxies. I wheeled my luggage inside first. The other two couples were already seated on the couch – one pair were singers, the other regular people. I smiled and greeted them. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, I could clearly see Chloe bending down, carefully helping James with his suit buttons. Her face was at his waist level, long hair tangling around her waist in the wind, creating an ambiguous scene. The regular wife was quite outspoken. She nodded towards them and bluntly asked: “Is she the reason you’re getting divorced?” I smiled. “No.” The four people inside clearly didn’t believe me, secretly sneering. James walked in, surrounded by staff. Seeing me, he sat down beside me, showing mild displeasure. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” I started peeling an orange from the table. “I came in to learn about the process first, so we wouldn’t keep the crew waiting.” He glanced at me, surprise flickering in his eyes. After all, I used to be someone who would try every possible way to assert my claim on him whenever I was by his side. “You need to firmly choose divorce for the first two times, only giving up in the final choice for the twist.” He instructed me in a deep voice. I nodded, popping the orange into my mouth.
The agent’s script went like this: I want a divorce, he doesn’t. He joins this show to understand my thoughts and save our marriage. After arguments and honest communication, I finally reveal it’s because he’s been too busy with work and absent these past few years. He sincerely apologizes and promises to focus more on family from now on. Finally, I tearfully admit I still love him and give up on divorce. We reconcile, and everyone’s happy. It was completely fake. Seeing me frown, my agent mockingly asked: “Don’t tell me you want to make it real?” I had once asked James to change my agent. Chloe opposed it, citing the agent’s extensive network and professional expertise. James supported her opposition and told me to prioritize work over being difficult. Naturally, my agent despised me. And I didn’t like her either. The first day had no filming, only pre-show interviews. In the interview room, couples made their first choices. “I want a divorce.” I spoke calmly to the camera. James frowned beside me. “You need to show more emotion when you say it. We need engagement, discussion, views,” he critiqued. “Otherwise, who would believe you want to divorce me? They’ll just think you’re acting again.” “Use your head more. I can’t always guide you through everything.” I opened my mouth to speak but was overwhelmed by a deep sense of powerlessness. I couldn’t bring myself to say a single word. These past two years, I’d been constantly wrapped in these emotions, as if trapped in a cage. Though I knew I needed to break free, I always seemed to lack the strength. When internal energy is insufficient, external force becomes necessary. The director was a young man who still maintained an uncorrupted purity about him. He reviewed the footage. “Actually, it comes across well. As an experienced actress, you conveyed the emotion perfectly.” During James’s individual interview, I waited outside, not wanting to listen. My phone rang – surprisingly, it was Chloe. I initially wanted to reject the call but thought better of it and answered. “He’s almost done with the interview. Just call him directly later.” “Mrs. Thompson, I’m not calling for him. I’m calling for you.” “For me?” “Yes. James has never been away from me for several days straight. There are two things I need to remind you about.” Chloe’s tone was gentle and polite. I watched James walk out of the door and put the phone on speaker. “Go ahead, Assistant Chloe.” Chloe’s elegant voice echoed in the hallway. “First, James’s throat inflammation has flared up. I put his medicine in the inner pocket of his black bag. Please don’t let him eat anything cold or spicy, it’ll irritate his throat. Second, he sometimes gets migraines at night. Remember to massage his temples – it needs to be continuous for ten minutes to be effective. If you’re not sure about the technique, you can call me anytime.” “Mrs. Thompson, did you get all that?” Before I could answer, James snatched the phone from my hand and spoke coldly: “Chloe, who told you to call Sophia?” The other end suddenly went silent. I found it somewhat amusing and actually laughed. James watched me, his scrutinizing gaze tinged with confusion. In the past, in situations like this, I would have caused a scene, angrily accusing Chloe and crying to him in hurt. While Chloe would always remain emotionally stable, explaining things gracefully, making me look like a lunatic. “She means well. You’re scaring her with that tone,” I said, taking the phone back from him and hanging up. I walked straight to the interview room. We still had the couple’s joint interview to do. As I pushed the door open, James was still standing by the corridor window, motionless. Suddenly he called out: “You’re not bothered?” I looked at him. “Bothered by what?” His composed features flickered with irritation. “Nothing. Let’s go in.”
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