On Halloween’ Day, Callum slid a divorce agreement across the table to me. “Your two ex-husbands called to pick a fight with me yesterday,” he said. “They told me you’re too uptight. That you can’t take a Halloween’ joke. That you’d never have the guts to sign a divorce agreement.” I’d been married twice before. Before Callum and I got together, I’d explained it to him directly: “The first time I got married, it was to help my childhood friend Sebastian secure his inheritance rights.” “The second time was to help Dominic, someone I’d trust with my life, get out of an arranged marriage.” “Both times, I walked away clean. No love lost, no grudges held. If that’s something you can’t live with, then we—” He’d grabbed my hand, eyes red, and cut me off. “I believe you. All of it. We don’t need to talk about the past anymore. But from now on — I’m the only one who gets a place in your eyes.” After we registered our marriage, he and my two ex-husbands were at each other’s throats constantly — yet with me, he was always gentle and attentive. I thought I’d finally married the right man. Then came the day I returned early from a business trip. I heard him in the living room, talking easily with Sebastian and Dominic — three men who supposedly despised each other: “Divorce is old news to her. She’s done it twice already.” “Hand her the agreement right on Halloween’ Day!” “Afterwards, just come back and tell her it was a joke. Easy.” “Vivienne’s wedding is next week. We made that promise back in senior year — her bachelorette night, all of us had to be single.” I stood outside the door and heard every word. So when Callum came to me with the divorce agreement, I simply took the pen and signed without a word. By the time Callum came looking for me again, I was six months pregnant. “You were right,” I told him. “I’m too uptight.” “So I took your Halloween’ joke at face value.” … I’d sat in the café across from our building for a full hour. Only after they’d all left did I go back home. When I walked in, Callum put down his phone and came to take my bags. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming back? I would have picked you up.” He took my suitcase with one hand, and the other naturally settled around my waist. Warm. Attentive. Exactly the same as always. “Have you eaten?” “Yes.” He nodded, then seemed to remember something. “Actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” I set down my things and turned to look at him. He sighed and pushed the document across to me. “The company’s hit a snag. The lawyers recommended we do a formal asset separation. That means going through divorce proceedings — just on paper.” I looked down. A divorce agreement. He’d had it ready and waiting. “Once things blow over, we’ll remarry.” He held my hand, his voice sincere. “A few months at most.” I was quiet for a moment. “I know this is sudden,” he said, squeezing my palm, lowering his voice with a trace of indignation. “But Sebastian and Dominic called earlier. They were making digs at me — saying you used to do anything for them without question, but apparently I don’t get the same treatment.” “They also said a woman who’s been divorced twice wouldn’t dare go through a third one. That you couldn’t handle it.” “I’ve already figured it out — tomorrow is Halloween’ Day. We’ll go then. Then we wave the certificate in their faces, scare them half to death, show them they’ll never look down on you again.” “It’s Halloween’, after all. Anything can be written off as a joke. Once the company situation settles down, we’ll re-register properly. No one will say a word.” He looked at me, something between wounded pride and quiet hope in his eyes. “You’re not going to let them look down on me, are you?” I looked at those eyes for a long time. Those eyes that looked so sincere, so devoted — eyes that had just been clinking glasses with those two men, saying “she won’t make a scene.” “Of course not.” I gave him what he wanted. He visibly exhaled — then quickly masked it with a look of pleasant surprise. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s the end of the month — after we sign, we’ll go—” I took the pen, turned to the last page, and signed. “Call them,” I said, setting down the pen with a smile. “Tell them to stop talking.” Callum blinked. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so easy about it. He smiled, tucked away the agreement, leaned over and kissed me. “Best wife in the world.” I let him. My heart was as still as standing water. He took the agreement to the study to make his call. His voice was low, but with only a door between us, I still heard it. “She signed.” Sebastian’s voice came through faintly from the other end: “Told you. Jo’s so easy to handle.” “Good. Keep Vivienne happy on your end. I’ll wrap up here and be over soon.” I sat in the room for a long time. My phone buzzed. A message from Dominic: [Haven’t seen you in ages. Want to get together?] I stared at it for a long time. Once, I would have replied “sure.” Would have thought carefully about what to wear, how to do my makeup. Would have thought about how to protect Callum’s dignity in front of them, to show them my marriage was a good one. To make sure they wouldn’t pick fights with him. After all — one side was the friend I’d grown up with my whole life, the other was the husband I loved. Both were people who mattered deeply to me. I’d never wanted them to be enemies for the rest of their lives. But now, I couldn’t even be bothered to reply. I flipped my phone face-down on the coffee table and went to the balcony to take in the laundry. As I passed the study, Callum was still on the phone. His voice was low, but carrying a kind of ease I had never heard from him before. The ease of a man who no longer had to perform. No longer had to pretend. I suddenly realized — in all the time we’d been together, he’d never spoken like that with me. The wind on the balcony was strong. I took the clothes down from the rack one by one, folded them, placed them in the basket. When I took down the last piece, my phone lit up again. This time it was Sebastian: [Heard you’re getting a divorce again?] [Callum’s a piece of work. He never deserved you. Don’t be sad.] [Grandpa Quinn’s eightieth birthday banquet is in a few days. Dominic and I will be there to celebrate — let’s catch up properly!] I let out a quiet laugh. How touching. As if he hadn’t been the one in the living room helping to plot the whole thing. I pressed the power button and dropped my phone into my pocket. I suddenly wanted to know what kind of person Vivienne was. That she was worth all three of them going to such lengths to keep a promise. That she was worth all three of them treating me — so casually — as a means to an end. But then I thought again. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter anymore. I picked up the laundry basket and turned back toward the house. I didn’t pause as I passed the study. Warm amber light spilled through the crack in the door. This light. This home. This man. Starting tomorrow, none of it had anything to do with me.
I’d barely set the laundry basket down when the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, but Callum got there first. The person standing outside had a flush across her face — she’d clearly had a lot to drink. She saw Callum and smiled. “I knew you’d still be up.” Callum instinctively glanced back at me, then dropped his voice. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t answer. She swayed her way inside. Not until she spotted me standing in the living room did she stop, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Oh — you’re home too, Jo.” Sebastian caught her from behind and shot me an apologetic look. “Jo, she’s had too much. We were walking her home and she insisted on stopping by here.” Dominic stood in the doorway, his expression a little stiff. He glanced at me once, then his gaze moved to Callum, his voice turning sharp: “Callum, your wife is standing right there. Don’t you have any sense of decency?” Callum stiffened, then frowned. “You get her this drunk and dump her at my door, and I’m the one who needs to watch my behavior?” “I got her drunk? You’re the one who posted that you were ‘back on the market’ on your social media!” Dominic gave a cold laugh and stepped aside. “Fine — you’re above it all. She’s here. She’s your problem.” The two of them stood on opposite sides of the entryway. The air between them had frozen solid. Sebastian was caught in the middle, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Alright, alright, let’s not fight — Vivienne just wanted to drop by on the way—” I stood in the center of the living room and watched the whole performance from start to finish. They were far too coordinated for enemies. If I hadn’t heard the sound of their glasses clinking with my own ears, I might have believed their supposed hatred for each other. For so long, I’d thought what I had with Sebastian and Dominic was the kind of bond nothing could crack. At my most loyal, I’d even married both of them. My parents had died young. Grandpa was busy. It was the two of them who had filled every corner of my childhood and teenage years. Every hard moment — Sebastian was always there. Dominic once stepped between me and a trafficker’s knife. To me, they were closer than family. But when had our iron triangle become this? Probably when we started senior year. When Vivienne appeared. A new circle formed outside mine. Slowly, I became the leftover piece — only thought of when someone needed a favor. I pulled my gaze away from them. Some cracks didn’t start today. I’d just chosen, today, to finally see them. “You’ve all come at just the right time,” I said. “There’s something I’d like you to witness in person.”
I walked to the coffee table and picked up the divorce agreement. “Two copies — I’ve already signed both. Since everyone’s here, let’s make it official.” Callum’s expression shifted slightly, but he recovered quickly. I was the one bringing up the divorce, in front of Sebastian and Dominic. In his mind, I was proving how far I’d go for him. A trace of smugness crossed his eyes. “Jo,” he said, stepping toward me, his tone soothing. “We can handle this privately, no need to—” “Since the agreement’s already out,” Vivienne said suddenly, “can I ask — when are you moving out?” The living room went quiet for a beat. Callum frowned. Vivienne ignored him, looking only at me, her expression perfectly innocent: “This apartment is in my name. You can’t exactly stay here forever, can you?” I went still. The apartment. In her name. I looked instinctively at Callum. He avoided my gaze, his throat moving once. He said nothing. In that moment, image after image crashed through my mind. The day we moved in, him holding my hand, saying “this is our home.” When he bought the place, saying “I’ll handle all the paperwork, don’t worry about it.” Me, happily choosing curtains and sofas and the dining table… Every piece of furniture in this apartment — I’d made trip after trip to the home goods store to pick it out. Every corner of this place, decorated to his taste… I’d never cared whose name was on the deed. But I had never imagined that the home I shared with my husband would be registered under another woman’s name. I looked down at the agreement in my hands. I let out a quiet breath of laughter. “I’ll go now.” “Jo…” Callum stepped forward. “Civil registry office. Nine o’clock tomorrow morning.” I didn’t look back. I grabbed my suitcase, walked to the door, changed my shoes, pulled it open — one clean motion. The hallway lights blinked on and off. Waiting for the elevator, I could still hear the sounds drifting through the door: “She’s even more cooperative than when I had to beg her to marry me!” Laughter mixed with chatter, muffled behind the door like something from a stranger’s life. I stood at the elevator, listening to this story I no longer recognized. The person in the mirror looked calmer than I expected. It wasn’t until I was in the cab that my phone buzzed. A message from Callum: [About the apartment — I’ll explain…] [Be good. Find somewhere to stay for now. I’ll come get you in a few days.] I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then turned it face-down on my lap. Outside the window, streetlamps retreated one by one. Come get me in a few days. As if I’d just stepped out to buy groceries and would be back in a moment. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. Don’t bother, Callum. You don’t need to come.
The next morning at nine. Civil registry office. When I arrived, Callum was already waiting outside. He was leaning against the car door. When he saw me get out of the cab, he stubbed out his cigarette and walked over. “Where did you go last night?” “Grandpa’s.” He nodded. His eyes rested on my face for a moment. He reached out to touch my hair — I turned my head away. His hand stopped mid-air, held there for one second, then fell back to his side. “Jo,” he said, lowering his voice with a measured kind of certainty. “I know you saved face for me in front of Sebastian and Dominic last night. I appreciate that.” “As for the apartment…” He paused. “Vivienne needed to establish residency in the city, and she needed a property registered in her name. I figured it was just a technicality. You’ve never been the type to worry about those things — that’s why I didn’t mention it.” I looked at him and said nothing. I’m not the type to worry about those things? He gave our marital home to another woman. And dismissed it with “you have money, you wouldn’t care”? He didn’t think I wouldn’t care. He simply didn’t care whether I cared. “In any case — you still have the right to live there!” “After the divorce, stay somewhere else for a while,” he continued, already arranging things. “Once I’ve sorted everything out on my end, I’ll bring you back.” I almost laughed. Even now, he thought this was all still part of the performance. That I was playing along. “Let’s go,” I said, not taking his words. I turned and walked toward the building. “Time to process the paperwork.” He followed, his steps quick. The procedure was faster than I expected. Signatures. Fingerprints. Photographs. The officer brought down the stamp with a clean, final sound. The divorce certificate sat in my hands — a thin little booklet, not much different from the marriage certificate. Just a different color. Callum glanced down at his phone, a small frown crossing his face. “I need to take a call,” he said. “Wait here — I’ll walk you back after.” He stepped a short distance away and answered. His voice was low, but two words still drifted across: “Vivienne…” I stood where I was and watched his back. He hung up and came back quickly, looking hurried. “Something’s come up. Head back on your own — I’ll reach out later.” After he walked out the main doors, I turned slowly and headed toward the other end of the hall — the window for marriage registration. … By the time Callum walked out of the civil registry office, the sun had already climbed high in the sky. He looked at the divorce certificate in his hand, then checked his phone — Oct 31st. Halloween’ Day. Right. Today. The tension he’d been carrying loosened just a little. His phone rang — a client call. They talked for almost ten minutes. When he hung up, he glanced back at the registry office entrance. Why wasn’t Jo out yet? He hesitated, then turned to walk back. He wanted to say a few more words to her — at least lock in a timeline for remarrying, so she wouldn’t spiral into overthinking. He hadn’t taken two steps before he walked straight into a man pushing through the doors. The other man dropped everything he was holding. Callum’s divorce certificate slipped from his hand too. “Sorry.” He spoke first, bending down to collect them. Two certificates lay side by side on the ground — his divorce certificate, and the other man’s marriage certificate. A gust of wind caught the cover of the marriage certificate, flipping it open halfway, exposing the corner of a photograph. Callum’s hand went still. “It’s fine.” The other man picked up the marriage certificate before he could, his voice even. Callum looked up. The man was wearing a dark gray overcoat. Tall, composed, expression perfectly neutral. “Congratulations,” Callum said, a casual pleasantry. “Getting married today.” The man glanced at the divorce certificate in Callum’s hand. His tone was equally even: “Congratulations to you as well.” Callum blinked, not quite catching the meaning. The man had already tucked the marriage certificate into his inner pocket. His gaze passed over Callum’s face without lingering, and he turned and walked away. Callum stared after him, the thought growing heavier in his mind — today was Halloween’ Day. Who gets married on Halloween’ Day? And this man’s voice, this man’s build — he was certain he’d seen him somewhere before. “Wait—!”
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