I spent five days hospitalized with severe gastroenteritis, and Chloe didn’t visit me once. That’s when I knew: it was time for a divorce. That night, I slid the drafted divorce papers across the desk to her. She looked up from her laptop, her gaze trying to pierce right through me. “The day before yesterday, I missed our dinner because I had to help Ethan fix his data model. You know he’s a new hire, his foundation is weak, and since we went to the same college, I’m the only one he can turn to.” “Yesterday, he left his tie in my car. I went to return it to him, and that’s why I missed our anniversary dinner.” “Today, there was a massive error in his spreadsheet. He had three hours before the deadline. He’s my team member, I couldn’t just leave him hanging.” “I know you’ve always had an issue with him. I can give you my phone, or even pull the office security footage to prove there’s nothing going on between us.” “As for you being hospitalized with gastroenteritis, I saw your text. But the company group chats were blowing up, and I just forgot to reply in the moment. The damage is done, and I’ve explained everything clearly. But if you still want a divorce, I will cooperate.” I looked at her, completely numb. Over the past few days, she had done so much for Ethan. She, someone who normally kept a strict schedule, had stayed up for three days straight just for him. But she “forgot” to stop by the hospital to check on her husband lying in a hospital bed. I nodded. “Let’s just get the divorce.” 1 I waited at the county clerk’s office until the staff went home. Chloe never showed up. She finally got home at 11:00 PM. Seeing me sitting on the couch, she didn’t say a word and walked straight to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. “I called you thirteen times,” I said. “You didn’t answer.” She paused mid-sip, pulled out her phone, and looked at it with a blank expression. “My phone was off during meetings today. I never turned it back on. What’s up?” Her tone was so incredibly flat, like she was commenting on the weather. I knew it. She had forgotten our appointment again. She was always so forgetful. Over our seven years of marriage, this had happened countless times. Small things, like asking her to turn off the AC before leaving the house, or asking her to pick up takeout on her way home. Big things, like when my dad was critically ill. His dying wish was to see his family one last time. I begged her to take just one day off. Just one day to fly back and see him. She promised she would. But my dad passed away, and she still hadn’t arrived. I only found out later. That day was Ethan’s first time leading a project pitch, and he was nervous. She promised him she would be in the room to back him up. That was the very first time I realized how little weight I carried in Chloe’s heart. The realization was like a plastic toy knife dragging hard across my chest—it stung, but it didn’t hit bone. I pulled myself out of my memories and kindly explained. “We were supposed to go to the courthouse today to file the papers.” “Tomorrow is the weekend, so I made a new appointment for Monday morning.” Chloe kept her eyes glued to her lit-up phone screen. She didn’t look at me. “Fine. See you at the courthouse on Monday.” I nodded. Monday. Chloe and I signed the divorce papers. After the mandatory 30-day waiting period, we would just need to make one more trip to finalize the decree. After signing her name, Chloe kept her head down, her fingers flying across her phone keyboard, replying to someone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A contact with a generic male avatar had sent her a string of crying emojis. We walked out of the courthouse doors. “I have things to do at the office,” Chloe said. “I’m not going to drop you…” I nodded and pointed at the Uber pulling up. “My ride is here. You go do your thing.” The Uber parked right next to her car. I opened the door and got in. I didn’t look back at Chloe standing outside. Chapter 2 2 I told my best friend, Marcus, about the divorce. I asked him to keep an eye out for any decent apartments. My hometown was in the Midwest, over a thousand miles away from Seattle. I had sold my old house back there to pay for my dad’s medical bills. The house Chloe and I lived in was mostly paid for by her, and the deed was entirely in her name. Since we were getting divorced, I had to move out. I had nowhere to go. Marcus quickly found three solid apartment options for me. Just as we were about to jump on a FaceTime call to do a virtual tour, I got a text from Chloe. [Thai basil chicken and coconut soup.] [Come over early. I have a meeting at 1:30 PM.] I stared at the two messages, then calmly swiped to delete them. Chloe worked in a high-stress corporate environment. She never ate on time, and her diet was garbage. After she collapsed and was hospitalized for severe stomach ulcers, I started obsessively researching stomach-friendly recipes online. From that day on, I cooked and delivered lunch to her office every single day. Whatever I made, she ate. She almost never complained. I kept this up for three years, and her stomach issues never flared up again. But six months ago, she suddenly started requesting specific dishes. I thought she was just getting bored of the bland, stomach-soothing meals, so I started putting extra effort into tweaking the recipes. Until that one time. I saw the texts between her and Ethan on her phone. [Ethan: Hey, what’s Oliver making for lunch today?] [Ethan: Ugh, steamed veggies again? I hate steamed food.] [Ethan: Tell Oliver to stop making steamed stuff next time. I want something pan-fried.] [Ethan: Oliver is such a good house-husband. I can’t cook to save my life. You’re so lucky to have him.] Chloe replied: [You’re different from him. Don’t sell yourself short.] [One is a shark in the corporate world, the other is a stay-at-home husband. There’s no comparison.] [A person can’t be completely useless. Staying at home, this is all he’s good for.] Seeing those messages broke my heart. So I asked Chloe about it directly. She was surprised I looked at her messages, but she wasn’t mad. She just answered me calmly and casually. “Oh. Ethan has a sensitive stomach, so he can’t eat takeout all the time. The food you make is perfect for him, and it’s healthy. It’s a win-win.” Her flippant tone felt like a sledgehammer smashing my warm, beating heart to pieces. I was sweating in the kitchen, constantly studying recipes in my free time. My carefully prepared meals, all my hard work and devotion… It all just became a joke to comfort another man’s ego. And it wasn’t like I didn’t have a job. I was a freelance translator. The foreign language dictionaries I used every day were sitting right there on the bookshelf. She just never cared enough to notice. After finalizing an apartment I liked, I felt a massive weight lift off my shoulders. Marcus told me that when I moved back, he was going to make me buy him an expensive dinner. I happily agreed. When Chloe called, I was dozing off on the couch. “Oliver, did you not see my texts?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to wake up. “I saw them. What’s wrong?” The woman on the other end suddenly went silent. A moment later, I heard her say, “I haven’t eaten lunch yet.” “You can order DoorDash.” “Didn’t you always hate it when I ate takeout?” Her tone sounded genuinely confused. I sighed, feeling a wave of exhaustion. “Cooking for you wasn’t a legal obligation. I did it because I cared about your health. It was voluntary.” “But Chloe… we signed divorce papers a week ago.” Chapter 3 3 After Chloe hung up, I went back to my room and slept until it was dark. The moment I walked out of my bedroom, I saw Ethan supporting Chloe as they walked through the front door. Her pant leg was torn. She must have fallen. Ethan followed behind her, his eyes red, urgently nagging her. “Chloe, slow down! Your leg is still hurt!” The second he saw me, Ethan immediately started whining. “Oliver, you need to talk some sense into Chloe! We had a client dinner today, and the client wanted me to take a shot with him, but Chloe absolutely refused to let me drink. When we were leaving, the client bumped into her on purpose and she fell down the stairs and scraped her leg!” “It’s just one shot, it’s not like I can’t handle my liquor! Why did she have to play the hero?” Ethan told me to “talk some sense” into her, but the smirk on his face was glaringly obvious. His fake outrage was painfully theatrical. So I didn’t say a single word. I just nodded and turned back to my room. Having lived in this house for five years, there was a lot I needed to pack. From the living room, Ethan’s laughter echoed intermittently. A while later, someone knocked on the door. I got up and opened it. Chloe was leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Where’s the first aid kit?” She pulled up her pant leg, revealing a bloody scrape. I glanced at it, then looked back up, genuinely confused. “The first aid kit? Didn’t you give it to Ethan?” Three months ago, Ethan bought an e-bike, claiming it would make commuting easier. He crashed it on his very first day. Chloe got the call and immediately abandoned my birthday dinner to go find him. Later that week, I burned my hand while cooking. I couldn’t find the first aid kit, so I called Chloe. Ethan answered her phone. “The first aid kit?” “Hey Oliver! Yeah, I crashed my bike, so Chloe brought the first aid kit to my place. Can you just tough it out for a bit? I’ll have her bring it back to you tonight.” Chloe’s usually stoic face finally showed a crack of emotion. She clearly remembered now. “I forgot.” I smiled and nodded in agreement. “You really do have a terrible memory.” The day Ethan answered that phone call, I was furious. When Chloe got home, I confronted her. I asked her why she was giving our household items to other people. She didn’t even look me in the eye. Her gaze remained locked on her laptop screen as she typed. “It’s just a first aid kit.” “It sits in the house all year and no one ever touches it. I gave it to him, so what?” But that first aid kit… I checked the expiration dates on the medicines every single month and restocked them. Every single item inside was carefully curated by me. It was a symbol of my dedication to protecting this household. And she gave it away like it was nothing. Just like every meal I poured my heart into making—with a wave of her hand, it became someone else’s lunch. “You can order bandages on UberEats,” I reminded her. “If there’s nothing else, I have to get back to packing.” I closed the door, completely ignoring the people outside. Chloe stared blankly at the tightly shut door. For some reason, her chest suddenly felt a little hollow. Chapter 4 4 The days passed one by one. I shipped the things I had packed back to my hometown, box by box. This house, where I had lived for five years, slowly began to empty out. It felt like peeling away the physical vessel of all my memories, piece by piece. I thought the remaining days would pass by quietly. But suddenly, Chloe changed. She started acting like a devoted partner. Someone who used to be obsessed with working overtime was suddenly clocking out precisely at 5:00 PM every day. A person who never cared about my needs started buying me breakfast and bringing home late-night snacks. Confused, I asked her what she was trying to do. Chloe, rarely ever caught off guard, hesitated for a long time before answering. “My mom called. She wants us to come over for a family dinner.” I hesitated for a moment, but eventually agreed. I got along well with Chloe’s parents; they had always treated me like a son. Since we were getting divorced, it was only right to see them one last time. It was raining heavily on the day we went to the restaurant. Her parents had already ordered the food. More than half the dishes on the table were my favorites. Chloe’s mom used the serving chopsticks to place a piece of braised pork into my bowl. Smiling brightly, she chatted about how the neighbor’s daughter-in-law just had her second baby. Then, the conversation abruptly pivoted to Chloe and me. “When are you two going to think about having a baby?” “You should do it while your dad and I still have the energy to help you babysit!” In the past, I probably would have smiled warmly and said we weren’t in a rush. But this time, I didn’t say anything. I just kept my head down and ate the piece of pork. The table went dead silent for ten agonizing seconds. Her parents exchanged confused looks. Chloe grabbed my hand, her tone absolute. “Soon.” Her parents immediately beamed. I pulled my hand out of hers. Chloe was too focused on her phone to notice. After dinner, Chloe’s mom pulled me aside to chat. Chloe’s phone rang several times, but she didn’t answer. Her mom finally nudged her. “It’s so loud! Can’t you see I’m talking to Oliver?” Chloe glanced at me. “It’s work. I need to take this.” By the time the table was cleared, Chloe still hadn’t returned. I called her. She didn’t answer. Her parents called her. Still no answer. Staring out at the torrential downpour, my mind drifted back to a day exactly like this. I was walking past Chloe’s office building when a massive thunderstorm broke out. I couldn’t get an Uber to accept my ride. I waited until Chloe got off work and called her. The moment the call connected, I saw her familiar car parked just down the street. I saw Chloe in the driver’s seat, and Ethan in the passenger seat. Chloe asked me what was up. I told her it was pouring rain and asked if she could swing by and pick me up since I was close by. She replied: “Just keep trying to get an Uber. I have to work late tonight.” Right as she said that, the boy next to her reached out, offering her a potato chip. Covering the phone’s mouthpiece, she turned her head to decline, but eventually gave in and ate it. She lied so flawlessly, so naturally, that I honestly thought I was looking at the wrong car. I spent dozens of sleepless nights replaying that moment in my head. Later, I finally understood. She didn’t love me, so she didn’t care. Just like how she didn’t like potato chips, but she wouldn’t reject one when Ethan held it to her lips. Just like how she didn’t like potato chips, but if the noodles I cooked for her got cold and soggy, she wouldn’t even take a single bite. The rain finally stopped. I hailed a cab and dropped her parents off at their house. In the middle of the night, I heard the front door open. Chloe was back. She was on the phone, her voice carrying through the apartment. Through the wall, I heard her let out an exasperated sigh and say the name: Ethan. When I woke up, I had over a dozen missed calls from Ethan. There were also unread text messages from him. [Oliver! Chloe and I have strictly professional boundaries! Please tell her not to transfer me to another department!] [She said you misunderstood and want a divorce. I swear I didn’t do anything on purpose! I’ll keep my distance from now on, just please don’t let her fire me!] I stared at the messages, completely baffled. I didn’t reply and placed my phone face-down on the nightstand. I was packing the last few items of clothing left in the guest room when Chloe pushed the door open, sounding frantic. “Oliver, what did you say to Ethan?!” “He said he was going to explain everything to you, and now he’s gone! I can’t reach him at all!” “What did you do to him?!” Her chest heaved violently. She stared at me, unblinking. Chloe was always so reserved and composed. She rarely ever showed extreme emotion. Yet all her outward panic was for another man. I opened my text thread with Ethan and shoved the screen in her face. “I don’t know what happened between you two last night, or why I’m being dragged into it.” “When he sent these texts, I was asleep. And frankly, I don’t feel obligated to reply to him.” Chloe opened her mouth to speak, but her phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, she instantly answered. The panic on her face turned to joy, then back to panic. “Come back first! We’ll talk about the rest later!” “Do you want your parents to keep leeching off you forever? Come back!” “Then just come stay here!” “It’s a three-bedroom apartment. It’s just me and Oliver.” As she said that, she glanced at me and turned on the speakerphone, holding it out to me. Ethan’s sobbing voice echoed loudly in the room. “Oliver… I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to intrude…” “I canceled my lease because I was going to move back to my hometown. But Chloe wants me to stay, and I can’t find an apartment on such short notice. Can I stay with you guys for a little while?” “I swear I’ll move out the second I find a place. Please.” Meeting Chloe’s heavily suggestive gaze, my fingertips felt a little cold, but I also had the urge to laugh. “It’s fine. You’re welcome to stay.” On the other end of the line, Ethan cheered in excitement. Chloe gave Ethan some careful instructions. “Wait for me at the airport. I’m heading there now.” She hung up the phone and looked at me. “I’m going to pick Ethan up. Tidy up the guest bedroom for him while I’m gone.” I reminded her. “Can Ethan take an Uber? There’s somewhere we need to go together today.” Chloe frowned. “I already promised him. I can’t just go back on my word.” “It’s only a three-hour round trip. Whatever you need to do, it can wait until I get back.” “Okay.” “I’m leaving.” She rushed out the door. She completely failed to notice the small duffel bag sitting next to me. I waited for Chloe for three hours. She didn’t come back. I checked my phone and saw a post Ethan made on Facebook ten minutes ago. [I was so sad today, but my boss is taking me to an auto show!! What guy can say no to cars? I definitely can’t! ~] I liked the post. I stood up. Grabbed the duffel bag holding my last set of clothes. And walked out of the house I had lived in for five years. After walking out of the courthouse, I texted Chloe a photo of the final divorce decree and headed straight to the airport. Seven hours later, I landed in my hometown. I climbed into my friend’s car, who had been waiting for me. As I listened to him ramble on about how much the city architecture had changed, I turned on my phone. Notifications flooded my screen like a tsunami.
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