Expired Membership, Expired Marriage

I return home from my business trip that night.

The pharmacy I always go to calls to say that my membership card was used that afternoon, but the payment failed, and the account needs to be topped up.

I look over at my wife, Catherine Francis, who's focused on making dinner. I ask her what she bought.

She smiles and pulls out a box of supplements. "I've been staying up late working these past few days. My heart's been acting up a little, so I bought some heart supplements."

Seeing my expression go flat, she lets out a helpless sigh and takes a card out of her bag.

"I know you're particular about money. Since I accidentally used your membership card, I'll pay you back ten times. Okay?"

However, I don't take the card like I used to. I just look at her calmly and say, "Let's get a divorce."

A flash of confusion crossed Catherine Francis's face.

Then, she took my hand and gave a helpless smile. "What's wrong? Is this some punishment for losing a truth-or-dare game with your friends?

"I've never stopped you from hanging out with them, but this kind of over-the-top punishment is a little hurtful, honey."

Her pitiful, teary eyes met mine.

I pulled my hand back. "There's no dare. I'm serious."

A small crack appeared in Catherine's gentle expression, her brows drawing together.

She asked, "Not a truth-or-dare this time? What is it then? Did your best friend tell you I don't love you anymore because I was busy today and couldn't pick you up from the airport?

"Or is it because I didn't video-call you to say goodnight these past few days? I told you I was busy. Stop making a fuss, okay? I'll make it up to you tonight."

As she spoke, she leaned her head against my neck, rubbing lightly. Her warm breath stirred an intimate ripple in the air.

I shoved her away hard, fighting the nausea rising in my chest. "I said I want a divorce. Don't you get it?"

That shattered whatever flirtatious mood Catherine thought we had. Anger flashed in her eyes, then quickly softened as she tried to appease me.

"If those are not the reasons, what is it then? You can't seriously be divorcing me because I used your membership card and made you top it up? That's insane."

I stared at her expressionlessly and replied, "Yes, that's exactly why. Is that a problem? Spending even one cent on you makes me sick."

Catherine stared at me in disbelief. "Do you hear yourself? Over money? You came home and didn't even bother asking why I needed supplements, and I didn't hold that against you.

"Besides, I told you I would pay you back ten times, but you refused. Now you're—"

I didn't bother listening anymore. I headed to the bedroom to pack my luggage. "Cut the nonsense. See you at the courthouse tomorrow."

She chased after me, refusing to give up. Her hand got caught in the door when I closed it.

"Gabriel, explain yourself. What's going on? Why are you divorcing me?"

Catherine's eyes were red and watery from the pain, but I didn't hesitate. I slammed the door shut.

"There's nothing to explain. Just show up on time."

After a long while, I heard dull pounding outside the door.

She shouted, "I'm not agreeing to a divorce! Don't even think about it!"

Then the footsteps grew distant, followed by the sound of a door slamming hard.

Once she was gone, I forced down the surge of emotions and called a lawyer friend. "Draft a divorce agreement for me. The car and the house will go to me, and the remaining assets will be split 50-50."

Catherine didn't come home that night, and I slept fine.

The next morning at work, I received a message from my mother-in-law, Aubrie Becker. She asked me to come over for dinner after I got off work.

Whenever we argued, and Catherine couldn't win, she would retreat to her parents' home.

Then Aubrie and Catherine's late sister's husband, Daxton Yates, would cook a big meal, invite me over, and talk us down until we reconciled.

It always worked. By the end of dinner, we would make up.

However, this time was different. I was set on divorce.

So when they asked when we planned on having a child, I didn't blush or laugh it off like before.

Instead, I pushed away the dish Catherine had just placed on my plate. "Mom, Dad, we probably can't give you that wish. We're getting a divorce."