1 On my wedding day, Johnathan vowed Vivian, his ex-wife, was out of his life for good. Still, her mail kept arriving. Each time, he’d grumble about her failure to update her address, then haul the boxes to her place himself. Their constant fighting had convinced me he loathed her. On my birthday, Vivian called needing moving help. He grabbed his coat and left. Staring at our untouched cake, I followed in a cab. At her apartment, Vivian kicked a box. “Take your trash!” she shouted. The floor was strewn with jewelry Johnathan had given her. Red-eyed, he knelt, polishing each piece with his sleeve. When I tried pulling him up, my shoe brushed an old love letter. He shoved me back. “What are you doing here? Can’t you see we’re busy?” Watching this man who’d been screaming moments ago now groveling in dust, I unclasped my matching watch and tossed it into the box. “Find time,” I said. “Let’s sign the divorce papers.” … “Wendy, stop making a scene.” Johnathan caught up to me in the stairwell, grabbing my wrist. “What was the point of throwing the watch?” “Just keeping things tidy,” I said, looking him in the eye. “If it is all trash anyway, it might as well go in the same pile.” Johnathan sighed. “You know she is in a bad place right now. Throwing that in front of her is like twisting the knife in her chest.” I let out a soft laugh, my gaze drifting down to my wrist, which was turning red under his grip. “Johnathan, today is my birthday. You left me alone at home to go clean up your former wife’s clutter. Who is twisting the knife in whom?” His eyes flickered with a brief flash of guilt. “She is moving all by herself. She could not find a single soul to help her. I promise this is the absolute last time. Give me ten minutes. I will finish up here and take you home to cut the cake, okay?” Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from inside the apartment, followed by Vivian’s sharp cry. “Ah! It hurts!” Johnathan let go of me instantly and bolted back inside. “Vivian! What happened? Did something hit your foot?” I watched Johnathan drop to his knees in front of her, gently cradling her ankle. His voice shook. “Don’t move. Let me see.” Vivian pushed at him, tears streaming down her face. “Aren’t you supposed to go home and cut cake with your wife? Why do you care about me?” Johnathan’s voice was raw. “How can you say that at a time like this?” Suddenly, I remembered an incident from six months ago. I had cut my finger, and the blood would not stop flowing. Johnathan had bandaged it calmly, his movements steady and precise. “Be more careful next time,” he had said. “Don’t be so clumsy.” He was always composed, always rational and controlled. I used to think it was just his personality. Now I realized he was simply capable of remaining calm because it was me, not her. I turned and walked down the stairs. By the time I got back to our apartment, the candles on the cake had already burned down to nothing. At one in the morning, Johnathan finally came home. He saw me sitting in the dark, and his footsteps faltered. Then he wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “It’s so good to be home. Today absolutely drained me. Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I said, “Waiting for you to eat cake.” He was quiet for a long moment, then murmured, “I’m sorry. Vivian’s ankle injury was pretty bad, so I had to take her to the emergency room. Happy birthday, sweetheart. This is for you.” He pulled a velvet box from his pocket. Inside was a diamond necklace. Johnathan clasped it around my neck. “Do you like it? I will take you to the mall tomorrow, and you can pick out a bag too. Don’t be mad anymore, okay?” I touched the cold metal of the necklace. “Johnathan, do you honestly think that as long as you come back to this bed, everything is just swept under the rug?” His brow furrowed. “I sleep next to you every night, I hand over my paycheck, what more do you want from me? She is in my past. She is going through a rough patch, and as a friend, I lent a hand. Is that so wrong?” I nodded. “You are right. You are a saint.” I stood up, unclasped the necklace, and let it drop. It landed in the trash can with a sharp clink. Johnathan’s face went pale. “Wendy, don’t push it.” I ignored him and walked straight into the bedroom. That night, he slept in the guest room. He did not come in to comfort me. The next morning, Johnathan, who rarely ever cooked, made breakfast. He even spread my favorite blueberry jam on the toast. His voice was gentle when he knocked on the door. “Sweetheart, breakfast is ready.” I washed up and walked out. He slid the plate toward me. “I was out of line last night. Don’t take it to heart.” I took a bite of the toast. “Okay.” Johnathan looked at me, seemingly satisfied. He assumed the storm had passed. For the past three years, it had always been this way. He would humiliate me, offer a shred of tenderness, and I would patch up my own wounds. Before leaving, he kissed my forehead. “I have an early meeting. I’m heading out.” That evening, I came home late after overtime. Johnathan was not back yet. I went into the study to charge my laptop. Passing his desk, I noticed the key was still in the bottom drawer. He never let me touch that drawer, claiming it held confidential company documents. I stared at the key for a few seconds, then turned it. There were no corporate files inside. Just a black leather journal. The very first page was dated three months after our wedding. “Wendy made sweet and sour ribs today. They were very sweet. But I remember how much you hated sugar.” My fingers froze. I kept reading. “Huge thunderstorm last night. Wendy slept right through it. I wonder if you, who are terrified of thunder, were hiding under the blankets, too scared to turn off the lights.” “Wendy said she wants to see the northern lights in Iceland. I agreed. But I wanted to take you there. That was our unfulfilled promise.” “Saw someone from behind today who looked just like you. I followed her for three blocks. When she turned around, it wasn’t you. I stood on the sidewalk, suddenly missing you so much.” Page after page. I was on every page, yet none of it was meant for me. Our three years of supposedly happy marriage had been nothing but a beautifully crafted lie. At ten-thirty, Johnathan returned. He opened the study door and saw the journal in my hands. His footsteps halted. His briefcase slipped from his hand, hitting the floor. “Why are you digging up old history?” He closed the journal and tossed it back into the drawer. “I stopped writing in that years ago. Are you really going to torture yourself over a few lines written ages ago?” He kissed my hair. “Don’t let someone from the past come between us, okay?” Looking at his devoted, self-righteous act, I found it incredibly laughable. I did not even have the energy to call him out. I gave a faint smile. “Okay.” “That’s my girl. Get some rest.” He took my hand to lead me to the bedroom. I followed him passively, but my eyes remained fixed on that locked drawer. Years ago? The last entry I had just read was dated only last month. Over the weekend, I was home alone when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was the building manager, I opened the door. Standing there was Vivian, dressed in a striking red dress. She held a luxury shopping bag, her chin tilted up proudly. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” I did not say a word, simply stepping aside to let her pass. Vivian walked into the living room on her high heels, her eyes critically scanning the space. When she saw the painting of the aurora on the wall, she let out a soft laugh. “I can’t believe that painting is still here. I mentioned in passing once that I wanted to see the northern lights, and he kept it in mind all these years.” She sat on the sofa as if she owned the place, setting the shopping bag on the coffee table. “I’m just here to return some things Johnathan left at my place.” She pulled out a man’s dress shirt and a dark blue silk tie. It was what Johnathan had worn when he left the house yesterday. “He bought me dessert yesterday and accidentally spilled something on his shirt. He took a quick shower at my place to change.” Vivian leaned back, her eyes gleaming with triumphant arrogance. “Wendy, do you honestly think you’ve won just because you hold the title of his wife?” I walked over to the water dispenser and poured myself a glass of warm water. Seeing that I was not losing my temper, Vivian’s grin widened. “Do you know why we got divorced in the first place?” She leaned forward, locking her eyes onto mine. “It was only because I accepted a job offer abroad without telling him. He was furious and did it out of spite. He is incredibly proud. He married you just to prove he could survive without me.” She pulled a velvet jewelry box from her purse and popped it open. Inside was a brilliant diamond necklace. The diamond was far larger than the one Johnathan had given me. She pushed the box to the edge of the table, closer to me. “The one he bought you was probably just an afterthought, a quick add-on to his order. Wendy, doesn’t it feel pathetic to guard a man whose heart belongs to someone else?” Looking at the hostile woman before me, I expected to feel the old rage and jealousy. I expected to scream and tear into her. Yet, my heart was remarkably quiet. “Are you finished?” I took a sip of water. “If you are, take your things and get out of my sight.” I pointed toward the door. “Stop acting so high and mighty!” Vivian stood up abruptly, her face turning pale. “Johnathan is going to divorce you sooner or later!” “Great,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. “I’ll be waiting.” Vivian gritted her teeth, grabbed her purse, and slammed the door on her way out. I tossed the shirt and tie straight into the trash can. Then I picked up my phone, opened my chat with Johnathan, and typed a quick message. “Find some time. Let us sign the divorce papers.” It did not take long for my phone to start ringing. I muted it, placing it face down on the sofa. The screen lit up repeatedly, but I never answered. Eventually, I blocked his number. That night, Johnathan did not come home. Maybe he was throwing a tantrum because my blunt attitude had wounded his pride, or maybe he went to Vivian’s for comfort. I did not care anymore. Monday evening, at five-thirty, I walked out of my office building. Johnathan’s car was parked right by the entrance. He was leaning against the door, holding a half-burnt cigarette. Seeing me, he came over and grabbed my wrist. “Get in the car.” His voice carried a rare trace of panic. Once inside, he did not start the engine immediately. “Wendy, stop joking about divorce. Did Vivian come to see you yesterday? What did she say? Why are you taking a crazy woman seriously?” I stared out the window, my voice barely a whisper. “What she said doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m tired.” Johnathan’s face darkened as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll call her right now and clear this up in front of you.” The call connected quickly, and Vivian’s lazy voice came through. “Johnathan? Why are you calling at this hour? Aren’t you worried your wife will get jealous?” “Vivian, who gave you permission to bother Wendy? You begged me to buy you that necklace, so what right do you have to brag to her? If you ever harass my wife again, don’t blame me for getting ugly.” There was a brief silence on the line, followed by a sharp, mocking laugh. “Johnathan, cut the devoted husband act. Who was the one showering and changing clothes at my apartment?” Johnathan slammed the end call button and threw the phone onto the console. He turned to grab my shoulders. “Wendy, you heard her, right? She did it on purpose. She just wants to ruin my life.” I turned to look at him. “You’re angry at her because her cheap tricks exposed you and brought you trouble, not because you actually feel guilty for what you did to me. Johnathan, you are incredibly selfish.” He was left speechless, his grip on my shoulders slowly loosening. It took him a long moment to regain his composure. “My father’s sixtieth birthday gala is next week. All our relatives and business partners will be there. As his eldest son’s wife, you cannot be absent. Let us get through the banquet first, and then we can talk, okay?” I laughed. “So you want me to keep playing the happy wife in front of everyone?” Johnathan frowned. “You are my wife.” He reached into the backseat and pulled out a large dress box. “I had this gown delivered for you. It’s in your favorite color.” Right then, my phone rang. It was his mother. “Wendy, dear, you need to come early to help oversee things for your father’s banquet. Johnathan’s company is in the middle of negotiating a major contract, and it’s a critical time. As his wife, you need to be supportive.” She paused, her tone turning pointed. “Don’t let minor, unverified gossip get between you two. Making a scene in public only makes us a laughingstock, and it is simply not worth it.” I looked at Johnathan. He sat in the driver’s seat, avoiding my gaze. He had actually run to his mother to handle me. I lowered my eyes and spoke softly into the phone. “Alright, I will be there on time.” Johnathan let out a massive sigh of relief and started the car. “I knew I could count on you to be reasonable.” Yes, I was always the reasonable one. That was why I was going to give him a public exit he would never forget. The next day, I placed the signed divorce papers inside the gift box intended for his father’s birthday. Beneath the papers lay the torn-out pages of his secret journal.
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