Jillian planted 9,999 roses herself to propose to me. When the 9,999th rose finally bloomed, I was moved. On our first day of marriage, I prepared 99 reconciliation coupons. We agreed: whenever she made me angry, she could use one coupon to make amends. Over seven years of marriage, every time she upset me over childhood friend matters, she would hand me a coupon. It wasn’t until the 97th card that Jillian noticed something had changed. I stopped nagging her to be careful or acting like I needed her. I just grabbed her arm when she left me for her childhood friend again and asked, “If you go to him, can I use a card to cancel that decision?” Jillian hesitated for a moment, then looked at me with a helpless sigh. “Go ahead and use it. There’s still plenty left anyway.” I nodded quietly, watching her walk away. She still thought those cards were infinite, that she could keep using them forever. But she had no idea, there are only two remained. Today was the gala for our company’s biggest client. It was also exactly one week after my appendectomy. Jillian’s childhood friend Jason spilled red wine on the client’s CEO. Jillian’s first concern was checking if Jason was okay. Then she turned to me. “Liam, go apologize to Mr. Johnson.” I stared at her in shock. The CEO was dabbing at his suit, clearly furious. “So your company likes dodging responsibility, huh? The one who should apologize is hiding.” Jason’s eyes watered as he leaned on Jillian’s shoulder, acting like he was the one who’d been wronged. Jillian put her hand on his shoulder and fixed me with a serious look. “Why aren’t you apologizing? What are you standing there for?” “Go toast with Mr. Johnson. We can’t let this partnership fall through, no matter what!” She forgot I was still recovering from surgery and strictly forbidden from drinking alcohol. Or maybe she just didn’t care about my health at all. Jason smirked at me with provocation in his eyes. He’d known all along Jillian would push me to take the fall. He also knew Jillian would always protect him, never letting him face the consequences. I wasn’t about to take the blame for his mistake, but Jillian suddenly leaned in and whispered: “One Get Out of Jail Free card.” To marry me, she’d planted those 9,999 roses herself. Each one was supposed to prove her devotion. When the last rose bloomed, I said yes at our engagement party surrounded by family and friends. That’s when she promised: “Liam, you’re the love of my life! If I ever betray you, I swear…” I covered her mouth before she could finish. Watching her make that vow among the flowers, I was completely captivated. Wanting to match her gesture, I had a friend design 99 Get Out of Jail Free cards. I told her, “When these run out, I’m gone for good!” In the early years of our marriage, Jillian guarded those cards like they were gold, terrified I’d cash one in during an argument. But after her childhood friend moved back from overseas, she burned through 97 of them in just one year. This was the 97th. I bent slightly, wincing from the pain in my abdomen as I addressed the CEO. “Mr. Johnson, I sincerely apologize for what happened.” The CEO glanced at me, shaking his head with a sigh—no real hard feelings. As I bowed, I caught Jillian straightening Jason’s collar. “Be more careful next time. What if you’d hit a table corner and gotten hurt?” “Got it, Jill. You always look out for me.” “Always?” Pain spread from my surgical incision, draining the color from my face. Just a little longer. She had two chances left.
After the party, all I wanted was to head straight home, but there was Jillian standing with Jason—they looked like the picture-perfect couple. She turned to me with a cold expression. “Liam, you’ll have to grab a cab back. Jason twisted his ankle; I need to get him to urgent care first.” It was like she’d completely forgotten I was hurt too. Her eyes were filled with worry—for Jason. Back in the day, I would’ve probably gone on about how much pain I was in, begging her to take me to the ER too. I would’ve cried, asking why I had to apologize when I hadn’t done anything wrong. But now, I just nodded quietly. “Sure.” Jillian visibly relaxed, her expression softening slightly. “Liam, be careful getting home alone.” No sooner had she spoken than Jason stepped forward and took her arm. “Jill, my ankle’s killing me. Can we please hurry?” Jillian’s blazer was draped over his shoulders, and he was practically leaning his full weight on her. She didn’t spare me a second glance—even though I was pale and in pain myself. She just helped him to the car and got him settled in the passenger seat. “Stay still, don’t jostle it.” It wasn’t until she’d gotten him settled and was about to drive off that she finally looked over at me standing on the side. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, Liam. He’s basically family. Just head on home.” I managed a faint, bitter smile. “Right. Family.” Afraid she’d think I was mad, I quickly added, “You already used one of our get-out-of-jail-free cards. I’m fine.” Jillian hesitated, as if she wanted to say something. Jason let out an overdramatic groan, and she immediately turned back to him. “We’re leaving now.” With that, Jillian drove off, leaving me standing alone at the hotel entrance. I pulled my jacket tighter against the chill. Once home, I grabbed the reconciliation vouchers from the side table. The stack Jillian used to keep locked safely in a safe now just sat there casually. I stamped the 97th voucher, then pulled out the divorce papers I’d prepared earlier. Having trouble finding a lawyer, I decided to call my old professor. “Professor Hayes, if I’m looking to get divorced, do you have any lawyer recommendations?” Professor Hayes sounded shocked. “Divorce? You? Who’s getting divorced here?” “I remember you two were the campus sweethearts. It’s only been a few years. What happened?” Professor Hayes had even witnessed our proposal. How did we ever get here? There’s no going back now. From the first time she chose others over me. From all the inside jokes she shared with Jason—jokes I couldn’t even join in on. From the nights she stayed out with Jason instead of coming home. A third wheel always spells the end for a relationship. We’d grown too far apart. There was no fixing this. Professor Hayes sighed. “Leave this with me. I’ll have someone reach out soon. Just tell them what you need.” I stared at the last two vouchers in my hand and said slowly, “Okay, thanks Professor.” Jillian walked in just then. “Who were you talking to? Professor Hayes?” She was carrying a shopping bag, which she set on the table. I hung up and turned to her. “Nothing important, just asking about something.” Jillian frowned, eyeing me suspiciously. “What kind of questions? At this hour?” I furrowed my brow. “Nothing important, just some lab data.” She finally sat on the couch and pushed the bag toward me. “Here, this is for you.” The bag was from my favorite French patisserie. Jillian used to bring me desserts from there all the time. That place was always packed—lines out the door daily. She’d wake up early and wait for hours, just because I mentioned wanting to try it once. I never wanted her going through all that hassle. But she’d just kiss my forehead and smile. “If you want it, I’ll get it myself. Even if you wanted the stars, I’d find a way to grab ’em for you.” We really did have some great memories, back in the day. “How did you… What’s this?” I opened the bag. No desserts inside—definitely not what I was expecting. Just a stained shirt and a crumpled bedsheet. I looked at Jillian. She shifted uncomfortably under my stare. “Jason’s clothes got dirty, and the bedsheet has a bad stain. He hurt his hand, so he can’t get it wet. I thought I’d bring them home and ask you to take care of it.” The more she talked, the more defensive she sounded. Her expression hardened. “Don’t be so difficult, Liam. You’re both guys—you get it. If it’s too much trouble, just use another get-out-of-jail-free card.” I couldn’t even find the words to respond. I’d just had surgery myself and couldn’t overdo it, but she didn’t seem to remember that at all. And there she went again, bringing up those stupid vouchers. Only one left. But with that indifferent look on her face, I bit back my objections. Jason’s clothes were expensive tailored suits—each piece needed special care. Looking back, I’d been so naive. All that so-called “thoughtful care” I prided myself on? Honestly, it would’ve been easier to just take them to the dry cleaner.
I left the shirt and sheets by the door to take to the cleaners tomorrow, then headed back to our bedroom. Jillian looked up, smiling when she saw me. “My amazing husband, you took care of that so quickly! That’s Jason’s favorite shirt—make sure it gets perfectly cleaned.” I nodded and reached for my face mask. I also grabbed the iPad from the nightstand to watch something. Jillian was typing furiously on her phone, clearly texting someone. A notification popped up on my iPad. I tapped it and realized Jillian’s iMessages were syncing to my device. “Jill, you’re the best shopper! I haven’t had real desserts like these in forever.” “That place always has such a long line. You must have gone through so much trouble.” Jillian glanced at me, then kept typing. “Glad you liked them. I’ll pick up more next time.” “What can I say? You’re the best little sister!” Jason replied right away: “What about my sheets? Is it really okay to make Liam clean those stains? If he minds, don’t worry about it.” Jillian smiled, looking completely smitten. “It’s fine. Stubborn stains need special treatment, and I can’t stand the thought of you doing it. He’s used to handling this stuff.” I froze, staring at Jillian. Since we got married, I’d handled every chore around the house—from changing lightbulbs to fixing leaky pipes. No wonder she thought I was “used to it.” I set the iPad down, unable to read another word of their conversation. After I washed off my mask, Jillian suddenly leaned in and whispered: “Liam, Jason needs me for something. You get some rest.” I curled up in bed and mumbled a response. As she put on her jacket, I asked quietly: “Jillian, if you don’t come home tonight, I’m using another Get Out of Jail Free card, okay?” I looked at her, my voice cracking with sadness. She didn’t even pause while adjusting her collar. She smiled like always: “Go ahead and use it.” Jillian brushed her hair back, completely unbothered. “I’ll be back soon. You probably won’t even need to use that card today!” Watching her casual attitude, I looked away coldly. “Okay.” It was 10 PM. She’d said she’d be back soon. I ordered my favorite dessert from that bakery using a delivery app. Meanwhile, Jason posted on Instagram, celebrating a date with his girlfriend. Right then, Jillian texted me: “Found Jason. Heading back soon.” It was almost midnight. I pulled up an old post on my phone—the one I made after accepting Jillian’s proposal. I hit “share” to my story. “Time really flies.” Jillian commented with a heart emoji. Then she sent me a photo of an office desk. “Still at work. Miss you.” I closed our chat. I didn’t bother replying. She must have forgotten I took that photo with her phone last month. It wasn’t even taken today. She was lying to me and trying to pacify me at the same time. Jason posted another update, like he was sending me a message: “You promised we’d get married when we grew up. You broke that promise, but said you regretted it.” In the photo, their hands were clasped together—Jillian’s small mole on her index finger was clearly visible. I sat on the couch, watching the proposal video Jillian had made while eating the dessert I’d ordered. The dessert I used to love tasted empty, flavorless. Maybe I didn’t like it anymore. And it wasn’t just the dessert I’d fallen out of love with. Jillian didn’t send any more messages. I put my phone on the coffee table and started packing my things. It was past midnight. I was about to use the last Get Out of Jail Free card. My phone suddenly rang. It was Jillian. “Liam, are you asleep? Don’t wait up. Something came up, and I won’t be home tonight.” “Go ahead and use the card. I’ll bring you dessert tomorrow. I’m busy here, gotta go.” Jillian hung up before I could respond. The dial tone brought me back to reality. As I put my phone back on the coffee table, I knocked over a cup. The custom mug we’d made together after getting engaged shattered into pieces. Maybe it was a sign our relationship should end cleanly too. I opened my messages and found Jillian’s chat. “I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but the Get Out of Jail Free cards are all used up.” “Let’s get a divorce.” My phone immediately started blowing up with calls.
I didn’t answer or reply. I put it on silent and let it buzz beside me. And just like that, our relationship was completely over. At Jason’s apartment, Jillian panicked when she saw that message. She bombarded me with calls and texts. “What are you talking about? There should still be plenty of cards left! Stop being dramatic, okay?” “Is this because I wasn’t home? I’ll explain everything when I get back.” “Why aren’t you answering! Liam, even if you’re mad, you can’t do this.” “Answer the phone! I’m serious!” She couldn’t believe I would just leave like that, sending message after message. After countless calls and texts, dread settled in Jillian’s chest. “How could this happen… We agreed not to fight about this. Why isn’t he answering…” She started remembering how I’d seemed distant every time I used a card. Things that should have made me angry got no reaction at all. Realizing she was losing control, Jillian kept calling as she headed for the door. Jason suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing his face against her back. “Jill, where are you going? You promised to spend the whole day with me.” Jillian pried his arms off, pushed him away, and ran out the door. She sped home, ignoring the speed limits. When she opened the front door, everything looked normal—but she still couldn’t relax. Walking further in, she saw ceramic shards scattered across the floor. She knelt down and picked one up— It was our custom mug. The mug lay shattered, our faces on it broken beyond recognition. She gathered the pieces, then stood up and pushed open the bedroom door to find me. It wasn’t until she saw all my things were gone that reality finally hit her. Jillian sat on the bed, staring at the empty room, completely lost. The iPad’s lock screen was our photo. She reached out, wanting to touch it. She wondered where I could have gone. Where else did I have to go after leaving here? She kept searching, and her eyes landed on something on the table. They were the Get Out of Jail Free cards I’d made—every single one stamped. Her hands shaking, she spread the stack of cards across the table. She tried to rub off the red stamps, but they wouldn’t budge. She counted them—all 99 of them. Jillian remembered our wedding day, when she’d confidently told me: “Liam, I’ll never use a single one of these! I’ll love you forever.” Another memory flashed—her standing next to Jason, impatiently telling me to use a card. Years of love, carelessly thrown away in the year Jason came back. She who once hated seeing me upset had used those cards recklessly, never thinking twice. Every time, she’d used this shortcut to get my forgiveness, then tossed me some gifts as so-called compensation. She never thought our relationship would actually have problems. After all, every time she used a Get Out of Jail Free card, she’d still symbolically buy me something. She saw it as compensation for me and a reward for my “not making a fuss.” With that thought, she opened my closet. Inside, neatly arranged, were all the things she’d given me. I hadn’t taken a single one. A few duplicate shirts, an unworn watch. She thought of the gifts she’d given Jason—she always knew he loved a certain brand of limited edition sneakers. So she’d pre-ordered every new seasonal release and had them delivered to his apartment. Those sneakers cost a fortune, each pair. They were nothing like these thoughtless, generic gifts she’d given me. Seeing it all clearly, Jillian fell silent. How had our once passionate love become so careless? She sat on the couch, unable to sleep all night, slowly piecing together how we’d gotten here. The next day, as soon as Jillian got to the office, Jason followed her in. “Jill, rough night? Here’s your coffee. And this is the new partnership proposal.” Jason set the coffee on her desk and reached to massage her shoulders. She used to love feeling needed like that. But thinking about my leaving, her expression darkened even more. She dodged his hand, pushed the coffee aside, and started looking at the proposal on her desk. As she read through it, she realized it was completely unfocused. It was unreadable—a total mess. If this went to a client, we’d not only lose the partnership but tank the company’s reputation too. Jillian set the proposal down, silent for a moment before speaking: “Who wrote this? How dare they hand me something like this?” “Where’s Liam? Didn’t he review this?”
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