Chapter 3
I calmly changed my shoes and walked straight to the sofa, sitting down.
It seemed he had long grown accustomed to coming home after work to find a meal prepared by me.
I wondered if it was because I lacked my usual enthusiasm tonight.
He leaned over, draped an arm around my shoulders, and said, “Honey, why don’t we order takeout? It’s getting late.”
The living room lights seemed warm, yet at this moment, they only made my eyes sting.
I gathered my emotions, contemplating how to begin.
Perhaps my prolonged silence made him sense something was off.
Maybe he had also realized I was still upset about last night.
He held me tighter and placed a light kiss on my forehead.
“What’s wrong? Still angry?” he asked softly.
I let out a slow breath and said, “Zhao Liting, let’s talk.”
Seeing my serious expression, his face darkened.
“Go ahead.” He released my shoulder and sat down impatiently, as if I was bringing up something he found repulsive.
“Let’s get a divorce.”
He had just sat down, but he shot up immediately.
It was obvious the unexpected words had startled him.
“Divorce? Over what? Just because of last night’s argument? You’re overreacting.”
I shook my head and smiled faintly.
Taking out my phone, I played the recording from last night.
After listening, Zhao Liting’s already dark expression turned even darker.
A long silence followed.
Finally, his voice held a hint of agitation. “Those were just drunken words. You’re really taking them seriously?”
I sighed lightly. “A drunk man’s words may be hazy, but his heart remains clear.”
As if I had struck a nerve, Zhao Liting snapped impatiently, “Selene Nightshade, I told you, I was drunk! Believe it or not. Haven’t I treated you well all these years?”
Ha, he still had the nerve to bring up these years.
Power, money, and status—when men rise, their wives become disposable.
He must have been waiting for his first love to return so they could rekindle their past.
I loved him, but I wouldn’t keep making the same mistake.
“Let’s divorce. There’s no place for me in your heart.”
I poked a finger against his chest, then turned and headed upstairs to pack my things.
He probably never expected me to be serious.
Panicking, he chased me into the bedroom. “Are you serious?”
“Which eye of yours sees me pretending?”
He was so furious he couldn’t stay calm, pacing back and forth in the room.
His expression was quite the spectacle—his face turned from pale to green, veins bulging at his temples.
With nowhere to vent his anger, his cheeks trembled slightly as he roared, “Fine! Get out! Once you walk through that door, don’t ever come back!”
He knew full well how much I had loved him.
He was gambling, betting that I was just throwing a tantrum.
Because in the past, whenever we disagreed, I was always the one to compromise first.
The unattainable always stirs longing.
The favored always act with impunity.
I pushed my suitcase forward, striding away without looking back.
Sitting in the taxi, I watched the scenery outside blur like a slideshow.
Flashes of the past flickered through my mind.
It was time to say goodbye.
