On my birthday, a sudden brain tumor episode left me disoriented. The doctor, while trying to stabilize me, picked up my phone to call my family. My husband, Victor Sterling, answered, clearly annoyed: “Are you kidding me? Seraphina and I were just about to leave for Florence. Don’t bother me unless it’s an emergency!” My son, Leo Sterling, chimed in: “Good riddance if she kicks the bucket. Just transfer the insurance payout to my card. My girlfriend wants a new bag.” Well, perfect timing. It was time for me to exit this cursed game world. When I opened my eyes again, the doctor handed me my phone, his expression grave: “Elara, your brain tumor is pressing on your nerves. You need surgery. Please discuss this with your family.” My mind was still hazy, my grip on the phone weak and uncertain. In the ER, everyone looked at me with pity. Some emotional family members even turned away, wiping their eyes. I glanced at my phone and saw that Victor and Leo had both blocked me. Feeling helpless, I messaged Seraphina Hayes, Victor’s first love: “Could you please tell Victor to come home soon?” Worried she’d think I was trying to start drama, I added: “I need to talk to Victor about getting a divorce. It’s urgent.” After resting at the hospital, I went home with the medication the doctor prescribed. Victor was already sitting on the couch when I arrived. He was wearing a sharp, tailored suit, an expensive watch glinting coldly on his wrist. A carry-on bag sat at his feet, clearly indicating he was about to go on vacation. When he saw me, he scoffed, loosened his tie, and said sharply: “Spit it out. What drama are you trying to stir up now? Seraphina and I were already at the airport, and you made us come all the way back. It’s so annoying; no wonder Leo can’t stand you!” At forty-five, Victor Sterling had fine lines around his eyes, but he kept in good shape. His slicked-back hair was immaculate, and his face was stern. Seraphina stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders in a fawning manner, leaning in to whisper intimately in his ear: “Victor, don’t be angry. Let’s hear what Elara has to say. Maybe it really is an emergency.” Seraphina was well-preserved, wearing an elegant dress and flawless makeup, looking very attractive. My gaze wandered. I remembered Leo’s third birthday. Victor forgot to buy a present for the first time because Seraphina had returned to the country, and he was distracted. Later, when I went to pick up a drunk Victor, I accidentally overheard his conversation with a friend and realized I was just a placeholder. Now, my temples were streaked with gray, and I looked nothing like Seraphina. Snapping back to reality, I took out the divorce papers and handed them to Victor, saying calmly: “Victor, let’s get divorced.” Victor, who had been enjoying Seraphina’s massage with his eyes closed, snapped them open, looking completely confused. He frowned, looking impatient: “First, you fake being sick at the hospital, and now you’re demanding a divorce? Elara, you’re almost fifty! What are you doing?” At his accusation, I just sighed inwardly. Yes, almost fifty. Today was my forty-ninth birthday. If Victor went into the kitchen, he’d see the ingredients I’d just started prepping – all his and Leo’s favorite dishes. But when I collapsed mid-prep from the brain tumor episode, in this huge house, there wasn’t a soul around to help. No need to voice these grievances. Saying them would only make Victor more annoyed. I wasn’t looking for a fight. I just gave a slight smile: “It’s nothing. I just suddenly realized it’s better not to hold you and Seraphina back anymore.” “Last month, when you and Seraphina were chasing the Northern Lights, you probably missed the news about my mother’s funeral.” “My father died saving your life. My mother then pressured you into marrying me. I get it, that was unfair to you.” “I’ve worked tirelessly at your company all these years, even helping it go public. Doesn’t that count for something?” “Now that my mother is gone, you don’t have to worry about her bothering you anymore.” After this long speech, I paused to catch my breath, then softly added: “From now on, I won’t bother you either. It’s been over ten years. You and Seraphina should live happily together.” Finally, after all these years, the words I’d held inside came pouring out. I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. Victor, however, crumpled the divorce papers in his hand, his voice tight: “I’ve put up with you for over twenty years, what’s a little more time…” He paused, then asked: “What about Leo? What will he say?” My son’s casual “Good riddance if she kicks the bucket” still rang in my ears. I gave a faint smile, nodding towards Seraphina: “It’s fine. He doesn’t like me; he prefers Seraphina. Let Seraphina take care of him from now on.” His face was a mask of displeasure, his lips pressed into a thin line. His chest rose and fell a few times, his eyes suddenly locking onto me, as if searching for the familiar sadness or jealousy he was used to seeing on my face. But this time, he saw only indifference. His thin lips moved, he took a deep breath, then stated firmly: “Divorce, fine. But you get nothing!” He looked at me with confident certainty, as if he expected me to back down because of money. But I simply nodded in agreement. “I don’t want anything. Not the money, not the house, not even custody of my son.”
Victor hadn’t even spoken yet. Seraphina, who had been silent, was already smiling, her eyes crinkling, and eagerly agreed: “Elara, I’m surprised you’re being so generous now. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Victor and Leo!” Victor seemed not to hear her, gripping the pen so hard his knuckles turned white. He suddenly snapped: “Twenty years! Why are you pulling this now? After the divorce, do you think I’ll keep you at the company? What company would hire a fifty-year-old woman?” His rapid-fire questions didn’t even faze me. I just gave a self-deprecating smile. Yes, my son’s old enough to get married. What am I even fighting for anymore? But I still felt suppressed, restless. Unhappy. This brain tumor incident, I had to thank their callousness for finally giving me the resolve to leave. Snapping back to reality, I calmly said: “Victor, my future life has nothing to do with you.” I knew Victor hated it most when I was presumptuous. Just as expected, Victor showed a disgusted expression and quickly signed the papers: “Elara, you better not regret this!” With that, he grabbed Seraphina and turned to leave. Inside, silence returned to the room. I sat numbly on the couch, looking at the home I’d lived in for twenty-one years. Every piece of furniture, its placement seemed etched into my memory. Yet, I still felt like an outsider. After a long while, hunger brought me back to my senses. I went into the kitchen and threw away the half-prepped beef, lamb, and salmon. Then, I put a pot of water on to boil and made myself a plain bowl of instant noodles. The noodles in my mouth had only a faint taste of oil and salt. I remembered when Victor and I first got together. He once tried to cook noodles for me. A germaphobe like him, yet he didn’t care that his shirt was covered in flour, or that his hand got scalded by the boiling water. But he didn’t mind, smiling and urging me to eat. The noodles were terrible, but I ate every single strand. I once believed Victor was my entire future. But now, his youthful face grew increasingly blurry in my memory. My head suddenly throbbed. I shakily took out the medicine the doctor prescribed and swallowed it whole. After the sharp pain subsided, I washed the dishes and pulled out a suitcase to pack my things. I didn’t have much. Most of the house belonged to Victor and Leo, so I packed quickly. I straightened up, surveyed the room, and found a box I’d cherished for years. Opening it, it held the things I once treasured most. Ticket stubs and photos from when Victor and I dated, our wedding picture. Letters Victor had written to me, gifts he’d given me. And all of Leo’s childhood photos and artwork. But now, I carried the box to the backyard and set it on fire. In the firelight, my face remained expressionless. Unfortunately, it suddenly started to rain, putting out the flames. Only ashes remained in the box, and I didn’t bother to check it again. After that, I deactivated all my online accounts and changed my contact information. Since I decided to leave, I might as well tie up all loose ends. After packing, I drove to the company, handed over my work, and cleared out my office. Everyone at the company, however, thought I was retiring, looking envious: “Elara, retiring already? Victor must really be spoiling you!” I held my files, silent. Snapping back to reality, I noticed Mr. Jenkins, the HR manager, wasn’t surprised at all by my departure. He immediately called in a team to renovate my former office. Everyone was a bit surprised and asked: “Elara’s retiring, why are you renovating her office?” Mr. Jenkins said sternly: “Victor is bringing in a new manager, so everyone needs to be careful what they say and do from now on!” With that, he placed a nameplate on the desk. On it, clearly written: “Vice President Seraphina Hayes”
Everyone present looked bewildered, but I merely curled my lips into a self-deprecating smile. All these years, I had always used the company’s oldest equipment. The company’s equipment had been updated so many times, yet Victor repeatedly denied my requests for upgrades. He would frown and call me vain, saying the old computer worked fine. But for Seraphina, he always provided the best. The current me wouldn’t get angry anymore. I just nodded, then turned and left the company I had worked at my entire life. After that, I went to a store to buy my last outfit. Even if I was going to die, I should do it with some dignity. But I didn’t have much cash left. Most of it was for the funeral expenses, so I just grabbed the cheapest outfit they had. Holding the clothes, I stepped out of the store. A young man on a motorcycle zoomed past me. The exhaust fumes made me choke and cough. A few seconds later, the motorcycle came back. A boy with permed hair, dressed in punk style, hopped off the back seat and said sarcastically: “Oh, look, still alive, huh? Fork over a hundred thousand, I need to buy my girlfriend a new designer bag!” I merely frowned and said coldly: “Leo, I don’t have any money.” “You don’t have money? Who are you kidding? My dad is so generous, why wouldn’t he give you money?” Leo didn’t believe me, his face filled with disdain. Yes, who would believe that a wealthy wife like me was actually living paycheck to paycheck?” Victor claimed I was after his fortune, so my salary was directly deposited into his account, and every expense required his approval. After being diagnosed with a brain tumor, I had gone to Victor with my medical bills, asking for money. But he blew up at me, screaming I was scamming him, and locked me in the house to “think about what I’d done.” Locked inside, I missed saying goodbye to my dying mother. My heart trembled, and I snapped back to the present. Before me, Leo smirked, humming as if he had me all figured out: “Fine, if you won’t give it to me, I’ll go to Seraphina. She’s beautiful and rich, a hundred times better than you!” I stared steadily at my eighteen-year-old son. How did the sweet child he once was turn into this? Ever since Seraphina returned, Victor was rarely home. I raised Leo by myself. He used to be very understanding, often speaking coldly to Victor and Seraphina. But at seventeen, Leo suddenly became rebellious, dropped out of school, and constantly demanded money from me. Heart-weary, I tried to reason with him. Instead, his then-girlfriend and her friends beat me up. I was old, and as I was being hit, Leo stood by, shouting for me to learn my lesson. After that, half my heart turned cold, and I stopped interfering. Later, I recovered from my injuries for a month. Leo apologized and acted remorseful, promising to celebrate my birthday properly and spend the whole day with me. I waited and waited, only to see Seraphina’s post on Instagram. In the video, Leo smiled intimately at Seraphina at a dinner party. “Hope you and Dad have a blast in Florence.” Then he happily took the large cash gift Seraphina gave him. When I saw that post, my head buzzed, then slammed me to the floor. I collapsed while washing vegetables. Now, facing the child I had raised with my own hands, my heart felt nothing. I simply said, relieved: “Alright, go ask her for money. Oh, and your dad and I are divorced. You can openly call Seraphina ‘Mom’ now.”
Leo stared at me, dumbfounded, his face turning red as he said: “How did you know… It’s all your fault for being such a cheapskate! Seraphina gets me, she knows what real love is!” Then, he eyed me up and down, mocking: “Divorced from my dad? You think I’d believe that? Stop faking it!” His gaze fell on the clothes in my hand, and he asked, confused: “What’s that you’re holding?” His girlfriend wondered: “Isn’t that a funeral outfit? Did someone in your family die?” Leo immediately stepped forward, wanting to snatch the bag from my hand. “I wanna see what you’re up to!” I frowned and pushed him away casually. Unprepared, he plopped onto the ground. I clutched my head. My vision suddenly went black, like someone had flipped a switch. The doctor had said the brain tumor would eventually affect my nerves, leading to blindness. I really was pathetic now. I squeezed my eyes shut, then, hazily, I could see again. Before me, Leo was panicking, stammering: “What’s wrong with you? Now you’re gonna pretend you’re blind? Again? No wonder Dad can’t stand you. Still faking illnesses at your age.” I shook my head and pushed him away. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately didn’t follow. Once I was further away, my throbbing head finally cleared a little. I took the bus ticket I’d bought and went back to my old house. It wasn’t far, just in the suburbs. The house was an old, run-down apartment building. After my father saved Victor from drowning, Victor brought our family to live with him as a form of gratitude. I hadn’t been back here in a long time. Now, dust was sifting down inside. I cleaned the dusty bed, sealed the windows and doors, trapping all the gas inside. Then I twisted open the propane tank I’d had delivered earlier. Immediately, a sickly sweet odor filled the air. I calmly changed my clothes and lay quietly on the bed. Just then, my phone rang. It was Victor. I didn’t intend to answer, but instinctively tapped to connect. On the other end, his voice was annoyed, urging: “Elara, where are you? There’s a gala tonight that needs you there. You have half an hour to get ready.” I said frankly: “I can’t go. I’m about to die.” I heard a loud crash from Victor’s end, like something had been knocked over. His voice was sharp, angry: “Elara, are you crazy? Why would you say something like that?!” Before I could reply, Seraphina’s voice, subtly fanning the flames, drifted from the phone: “Elara, are you really losing the will to live just because you divorced Victor? Then you two should get back together. I don’t mind.” Hearing this, Victor became even angrier: “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Elara. If they hadn’t specifically asked for you, do you think I’d be calling?” “Fine, come or don’t. But don’t ever come home again, and don’t ever think of seeing Leo again!” As Victor hung up, I, having inhaled too much carbon monoxide, lost strength in my hand, and my phone clattered to the floor. I don’t know how long passed. My body grew limp from lack of oxygen, and my consciousness gradually blurred. Death, like a cool summer night, felt strangely peaceful. I thought I could hear the faint hiss of the propane tank. But the next moment, the front door was kicked open, and an uninvited guest barged in.
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