Chapter One My husband casually sprinkled a handful of green onions into my soup, and that’s when I decided to ask for a divorce. His chopsticks froze mid-air, his expression baffled. “What? Why?” I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat, lowering my gaze as I scrolled through his secretary’s Instagram. “Offhandedly, she mentions a craving, and you personally fly to D.C. to consult with a pastry chef about the perfect flavor for her dessert.” I locked my phone screen and began picking the green onions out of the soup, my movements deliberate and irritated. “We dated for two years, married for three, and you still don’t remember—I don’t eat green onions.” Years later, when my daughter was already two, he was still asking around, trying to find out where I’d gone. He frowned, slamming his chopsticks onto the table with a sharp crack. “Stop being so dramatic. You’ve never made a fuss about green onions before.” Some things, if you repeat them too many times, just lose their meaning. Over time, you stop fighting and start compromising. But that day, I realized I was done. I was done with retreating. Done with compromising. Done with a life that felt smaller and smaller with every concession. I didn’t argue. I just grabbed my bag and stood up to leave. His face darkened, and he grabbed my wrist in frustration, his grip firm enough to knock over the soup bowl sitting precariously on the edge of the table. The scalding liquid splashed directly onto the back of my hand, the burn so sudden and intense I didn’t even have time to cry out. But instead of concern, he crossed his arms and glared at me like I was the one who had ruined dinner. “Why do you always have to make a scene?” he snapped. Before I could respond, a sharp-eyed waitress rushed over, gently pulling me away. She guided me to the back, where she ran cool water over my red and swollen skin. Then, carefully, she applied burn ointment to the affected area. The icy coolness of the ointment seeped into my skin and, strangely, deep into my chest. She hesitated, as if debating whether to say something. Finally, she couldn’t hold back and asked in a low voice, “That guy just now… was he your husband or boyfriend?” My gaze turned cold, and I shook my head lightly. “Neither.” “Good,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Because no decent man would just stand there watching while his woman gets hurt, let alone blame her for it afterward.” Her words broke through a fog I hadn’t realized I’d been living in. For years, I had buried myself in the dust, bending over backward to please a man who never truly saw me. In doing so, I had lost sight of myself. Later, Gavin stood by the door, his fingers flying over his phone, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. But as soon as he noticed me approaching, his expression shifted. The smile vanished, replaced by that all-too-familiar look of annoyance. It was the same look he always gave me, the one that said he was waiting for me to apologize first. I ignored him completely, walking past him as I opened an app on my phone and scheduled an appointment with a burn specialist at the nearest hospital. He caught up to me, his pace hurried. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes flicked to my phone screen and saw the appointment confirmation. His expression wavered, guilt flashing briefly in his eyes. “I… I’ll drive you,” he offered, his tone awkward. Before I could object, he pressed his hand on my shoulder and ushered me into the car. He leaned over to fasten my seatbelt, and the cloying scent of his cologne—or was it perfume?—wafted over me. The smell made my stomach churn violently. I pushed him away, gagging, my face flushed red as I fought the urge to vomit. He frowned, his voice tinged with concern. “Did you eat something bad? Don’t worry, we’ll get to the hospital soon.” As the car started, a piercing ringtone shattered the silence. Gavin glanced at the screen, hesitated for a moment, and then declined the call. But whoever was on the other end was persistent, calling again and again, the ringtone shrill and insistent in the cramped space of the car. I pressed my fingers to my temple, trying to ease the headache building behind my eyes. “Answer it.” He shot me a quick, conflicted look before slipping on his Bluetooth headset and answering in a low voice. The conversation was short, but his tone was careful, almost nervous. When he hung up, he pulled the car over to the curb and turned to me with an apologetic expression. “The hospital is just up ahead. Can you go in by yourself? I… I can’t keep driving forward from here.” I glanced at him, unimpressed. “Sure.” He blinked, surprised by my curt response. “You’re not going to ask where I’m going?” I unbuckled my seatbelt, my movements slow and deliberate. “Why would I care? Where you go has nothing to do with me.” Chapter Two The doctor sternly reminded me to come back every three days to change the bandages. “The burn covers a large area,” he warned. “If the wound isn’t properly cared for, it could get infected. And if that happens, we’ll have to remove the dead tissue and start the healing process all over again. Trust me, you don’t want that.” He also advised me to avoid spicy or irritating foods while I healed. Pulling out my phone, I opened the notes app to jot down his instructions. As I finished typing, a notification popped up—a new post from Hannah. “The mosquitoes in the garden are driving me crazy. Thank goodness someone brought me some herbal cream just in time,” she captioned. The photo showed her lounging on a couch, her long, pale legs draped across Gavin’s lap. He was leaning over, his expression gentle and focused as he applied the cream to her skin. My chest tightened, and without warning, warm tears spilled onto the back of my hand. The doctor’s previously firm tone softened slightly. “Make sure to protect the wound,” he said quietly. “If it gets worse, cleaning out the infected tissue will hurt like hell. You’ll regret it later.” I forced a small, polite smile, picked up my medication, and walked out of the hospital. The streets were eerily quiet in the early hours of the morning. The cold white glow of the streetlights felt harsh against the shadows. The burning on the back of my hand was growing worse with every step. Meanwhile, the man responsible for it was somewhere else, wrapped up in warmth and affection that wasn’t mine. Anger and humiliation boiled over, and before I could stop myself, I dialed Gavin’s number. He declined the call immediately. I tried again. Declined again. After several rounds of silent back-and-forth, he finally answered, his voice low and laced with irritation. “What now? What are you freaking out about this time?” I tilted my head back to look at the full moon hanging in the cold night sky. My voice was calm, detached. “Come pick me up. I’m at the hospital.” “Are you serious?” A woman’s soft laugh rang faintly in the background, followed by the sharp, mocking sound of a call being cut off. The cold autumn wind bit through my thin coat, and I clutched it tighter around myself as my vision blurred. For a moment, I was no longer standing in the middle of an empty street. I was eighteen again, sitting on a swing next to my best friend. She had been crying, her voice trembling with frustration as she vented about her boyfriend’s lack of boundaries with other girls—and how he never took her concerns seriously, no matter how desperately she tried to get through to him. I had leaned back on the swing, letting the golden sunlight of a summer afternoon filter through the leaves above us. My voice had been soft but firm as I said, “If someone ever takes my love for granted, I’ll walk away without a second thought. No regrets.” A cold gust of wind snapped me back to reality. I sighed, my breath visible in the frigid air. Sorry, eighteen-year-old Stella. Thirty-year-old me has let you down. My phone was open to a text message draft. The divorce papers were already attached, ready to be sent. But my thumb hovered over the send button, unable to press it. Suddenly, a tall, familiar figure stepped into the glow of the streetlight, blocking its harsh brightness. I looked up instinctively. Gavin stood there, his face partially obscured by the shadows, but I could still make out the features I had once found so comforting. For a fleeting moment, he reminded me of the boy who had once treated me like his whole world. But then my gaze shifted to his rumpled shirt, the mismatched buttons, and the faint lipstick smudge on his collar. Whatever fragile hope I had left shattered into dust. My hands clenched into fists, my body cold and stiff. “Let’s go home. What are you just standing there for?” Gavin grabbed my wrist, his tone impatient as he tried to pull me along. When I caught sight of the faint red marks on his neck, the anger I had been trying to suppress erupted all at once. I yanked my hand from his grip, my breathing ragged as I stared at him. I wanted to scream, to demand answers, to ask him how he could betray me so blatantly and still act like I was the one causing trouble. But all the words I wanted to say got caught in my throat. “What now?” he snapped, his brows furrowed in frustration. “I came all the way here to pick you up, and now you’re acting up again?” His audacity was almost laughable. How could he cheat so openly and still have the nerve to question me? The words “I want a divorce” pounded in my head, over and over, louder and louder. I was just about to say it when the passenger door of his car suddenly swung open. Chapter Three A pair of long, pale legs stepped out of the car. Hannah, sitting in the passenger seat, leaned her head out with a bright smile. “Stella, come on, get in! It’s freezing out here.” Something inside me seemed to shatter with a deafening crash. My fingers tingled as numbness spread through them. Slowly, I turned my head to look at Gavin. His expression flickered with a trace of panic, but he quickly regained his composure. “I was just giving her a ride home. It’s on the way.” Hannah chimed in cheerfully, picking up the thread of his excuse. “Oh, Gavin’s the best! Ever since he found out how hard it is to get a ride from my place in the suburbs, he’s been picking me up and dropping me off for months now.” She glanced shyly at Gavin, as if suddenly realizing how intimate her words sounded. The “suburbs” she mentioned were on the far east side of town—12 kilometers from our house. If traffic was heavy during rush hour, the trip could take nearly 50 minutes out of the way. So, this was his idea of “on the way.” This was what he’d been doing during all those early mornings and late nights. This was the real reason he had refused me so many times when I’d asked him for a ride. Like that one time when I was doubled over in pain from menstrual cramps, struggling to deliver samples to a demanding client who’d called me a dozen times. He’d grabbed his keys and stormed out, tossing over his shoulder, “This family doesn’t rely on your paycheck anyway.” Or the night it poured rain, and I stood shivering at the subway entrance, feverish and soaked, staring helplessly at the flooded streets. He wasn’t there for me that night either. No, he was probably driving Hannah home, laughing and chatting with her about whatever trivial nonsense they found amusing. “Oops!” Hannah’s sudden squeal yanked me out of my thoughts. “What’s this? It poked my hand.” She reached into the side of her seat and pulled out a small, pink nameplate shaped like a paperclip. “‘Princess Piggy’s Seat,’” she read aloud, snorting with laughter. She held it up like it was some ridiculous trinket. “Who’s ‘Princess Piggy’? How childish.” My chest tightened. That nameplate—my nameplate—was something Gavin and I had bought together at a night market back in college. I could still remember the way the colorful lights of the market reflected in his eyes, making them sparkle like stars. He had pinned it to the seat with such care, smiling as he said, “From now on, this will always be Stella’s special seat.” It used to sit proudly in the most visible spot on the passenger seat. But at some point, he must have decided it was an eyesore and moved it to a hidden corner, out of sight. Yet here it was now, uncovered and exposed. “It’s all faded,” Hannah said dismissively, tossing it lightly from one hand to the other. “Gavin, I’ll buy you a new one next time.” As she said this, her gaze landed on me. Her eyes sparkled with thinly-veiled triumph, her words dripping with mockery. With a casual flick of her wrist, she tossed the nameplate out of the car. It spun in the air before landing in the muddy gutter on the side of the road, filthy and discarded. Gavin took a step forward instinctively, as if to retrieve it. But then he hesitated, freezing in place. He turned back toward me, his brows furrowed, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something. But no words came. “Stella, your bracelet is so pretty,” Hannah said suddenly, her eyes fixating on my wrist. The small crystal charms jingled softly as I shifted my arm. “The little bells on it are adorable.” Without a word, I let out a cold laugh, unhooking the bracelet from my wrist. I tossed it toward her with a casual flick of my hand. The bells clinked against each other as it landed in her lap. “If you like it, you can have it,” I said, my tone detached. “I’m tired of wearing it anyway.” The bracelet wasn’t just any piece of jewelry. It was something Gavin had bought for me when he was just 17, working a grueling summer job. Back then, he had accidentally fractured his hand while working, and his boss had offered him compensation. Instead of going to the hospital right away, he’d gone straight to the mall, rushing to buy me this bracelet—the one I’d admired in the store window so many times. “Stella, close your eyes,” he’d said breathlessly, his face flushed and damp with sweat. He must have sprinted all the way to find me. When I opened my eyes, the bracelet was already on my wrist. “Stella,” he’d said, his voice trembling with emotion, “I swear I’ll treat you like a princess for the rest of my life.” Chapter Four Promises only hold weight when love is still alive. Gavin’s expression darkened instantly, fury flashing in his eyes. He stepped forward and grabbed my wrist tightly. “Stella, what the hell do you mean by this? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten—” My gaze was ice-cold as I pried his pale, clenched fingers off my wrist one by one. Each movement felt like driving a knife deeper into my chest. “I did,” I said slowly, each word deliberate. “I forgot.” Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked away. Even as I got farther and farther, I could feel his burning stare on my back. When I hailed a cab, he ran toward me, his expression frantic and desperate. “It’s not safe for you to take a cab this late. Let me drive you home,” he said, his voice unsteady. I didn’t respond. The only sound he got in return was the slam of the car door as I shut it in his face. Through the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of him standing frozen on the sidewalk, watching as the cab pulled away. I whispered to myself, “I don’t need you anymore.” Scrolling through my contacts, I hesitated for a moment before dialing Aria. Aria had moved to New Zealand after her messy breakup, eventually starting her own immigration consultancy. When I first began to notice Gavin acting differently, I’d called her late at night, my voice breaking as I tried to keep my tears in check. “Why?” I had asked her, over and over again. She had stayed silent for a long time before finally asking, “Do you remember what you said on the swings all those years ago?” Now, gripping my phone, I took a deep breath and said, “I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming to see you tomorrow.” I could hear the excitement in her voice, barely concealed. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for this. When I bought this little house, I made sure to save you a room.” After we hung up, I felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off my chest. I rolled the window down, letting in the crisp night air. The faint scent of gardenias drifted in, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of freedom. Stella, you’re free again. Gavin arrived home almost at the same time I did. It seemed like, for once, he hadn’t taken the long way around. He grabbed my wrist again, his eyes slightly red, his voice hoarse. “Stella, my stomach hurts.” This was his usual tactic—playing weak. It was almost laughable. Giving me the chance to take care of him was his way of offering me a way to mend things. Normally, I’d have rushed to find the first-aid kit or headed straight to the kitchen to make him something warm to eat. But this time, I didn’t even spare him a glance. “Hmm,” I muttered indifferently before heading to the guest room. A few minutes later, I heard him knocking on the door. He waited for what felt like forever, but when no response came, the sound eventually stopped. The next morning, he intercepted me before I could leave. His tone was oddly gentle, almost coaxing. “Come with me today. It’s my mom’s birthday. Let’s go together, okay?” His family had never liked me. To them, I was nothing more than an orphan with no background—a woman completely unworthy of the heir to a billion-dollar company. Before and after the wedding, I was excluded from every family gathering. At first, I envied the warmth of their family dinners and begged Gavin to help smooth things over. But he had only glanced at his watch, his expression indifferent, and said, “You’ve been on your own your whole life. Why bother trying to fit in with a family now? It’s unnecessary.” Remembering those words, I let out a bitter laugh and brushed his hand off me. “I’m busy.” His face darkened instantly, his jaw clenching. He slammed his fist into the wall beside him. “Stella, enough already,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve put up with since last night? Fine, you’re busy. Just make sure you keep that same energy. Don’t come crawling back to me like a pathetic dog later.” He shot me a furious glare, shoved past me, and stormed out the door. Moments later, I heard the roar of his car as he sped away. Unbothered, I called for a ride to the airport. As I sat in the terminal waiting for my flight, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. The notifications were coming from the Rhodes family group chat. Someone had posted pictures of Gavin at the birthday party. Hannah was wearing a stunning designer gown and had her arm linked tightly through his. She smiled demurely at the camera, her cheeks flushed, leaning close to whisper something in his ear. The Rhodes family members, who had never accepted me, were practically falling over themselves in the chat. “Now this is the kind of woman the Rhodes family needs—classy and elegant.” “Gavin’s date tonight is stunning. I wish she were my sister-in-law already!” I smirked, amused by the audacity. Calmly, I uploaded a PDF of the finalized divorce agreement to the group chat. Then, I added a message: “Consider this my wedding gift. And here’s $20 for the party.” I left the group chat before they could even react. Then, I turned off my phone. The flight to New Zealand was direct. When I landed and turned my phone back on, it vibrated so violently in my hand that I almost dropped it. Hundreds of missed calls from Gavin. Text after text filled my screen: “Stella, you’ve got it all wrong.” “Stella, please don’t ignore me. Let me explain.” “Stella, where are you? I’m coming to get you. Just wait for me.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295228”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #后宫Harem
Leave a Reply