Bound to You, Broken by You

After I refused Selene’s divorce proposal for the third time, I did something stupid.

I made a PowerPoint showing her chat history and hotel records with her assistant and posted it online.

I also wrote down all the pain and grievances from our five-year marriage as an accusation.

Just when I thought I could enjoy the feeling of revenge, the police came to me. That’s when I found out Selene had reported me for leaking someone’s private information.

Because of that, I was about to face the darkest five days of my life.

But on the third day, she brought me our son’s latest award-winning essay to read. The title was: “I Have a Crazy Dad.”

At that moment, the firm belief I had inside me completely collapsed. Seeing the contempt in her eyes, I stopped making a scene and said in a hoarse voice, “Selene, I agree to the divorce.”

——

“Warren, aside from the child’s custody, you can ask me for anything you want.”

After getting the answer she wanted, Selene was no longer as aggressive as before. For once, she even showed me a bit of kindness.

But I felt nothing anymore. I no longer argued with her hysterically. I calmly said what I wanted, “I want 150 thousand dollars.”

Hearing my answer, a look of surprise flashed across Selene’s face. She had thought I wouldn’t give up custody so easily that I’d keep fighting with her.

She had even planned how to deal with me if I tried to fight for our child.

But I turned out to be completely different from what she expected.

“Only 150 thousand dollars?” she asked again in disbelief. “If you take this money, your son will have nothing to do with you ever again.”

Facing her question, I nodded calmly.

Selene seemed like she wanted to say something. She moved her lips but didn’t continue arguing.

“Fine. When you’re released, we’ll go register for the divorce. Warren, you’d better not lie to me.”

Leaving that warning behind, she turned and walked away.

After she left, I settled abroad. Then one day, my mother whom I hadn’t seen in five years showed up with a lawyer.

Soon after, she easily got me out on bail.

As we stepped out of the police station, she casually pulled a pack of women’s cigarettes from her pocket, lit one with practiced ease and exhaled a slow cloud of smoke.

Then she turned to look at me, exhaustion written all over me and said, “So, are you finally willing to come with me now?”

I’d lived for twenty-seven years and she’s said that sentence to me twice.

The first time was when she divorced my cheating father. She didn’t ask for anything and just wanted to take me with her.

But everyone around me said that if six-year-old me went with her, who had nothing, I would only become her burden.

So I didn’t follow my heart. I chose to stay with my father.

When she heard my decision, she didn’t try to persuade me. She left — firm and resolute.

But sometimes, I still held some resentment toward her. Resentment that she had abandoned me and left this family behind.

That’s why, when I married Selene, she came to the wedding and told me. "Warren, before you love someone else, learn to love yourself first. Don’t pour all your heart into another person. Be kinder to yourself.”

Back then, I was unbelievably naive. I thought that the ten years between Selene and me meant our love was unbreakable.

I believed she would love me as deeply and faithfully as she loved herself.

So I snapped back at my mother, full of defiance. “Do you think everyone’s as selfish as you? Always wanting others to love you, but never thinking about how to make yourself worthy of love.”

She didn’t get angry at my words. She just looked at me with a faint, unreadable smile.