I've been involved with a divorced man for eight years.
We've broken up and reconciled countless times, tallying ninety-four breakups and five divorces. One more and we'd hit a hundred, but I couldn't go on any longer. I was worn out.
The first breakup happened when I spent my first night with him, and midway through, his ex-wife called, asking him to buy groceries. The fifth breakup was when he left me, pregnant, on the side of a highway to comfort his ex-wife, who had complications with her own pregnancy. I ended up in a car accident and miscarried. He only arrived after the fact, looking haggard and hurried.
No matter how much he hurt me, I couldn’t bring myself to truly leave. This final divorce was for an equally absurd reason—his ex-wife and their child were in a family reality TV show, and he needed to appear with them as a family. To preserve her public image, he divorced me again. After the show finished filming, he called, wanting to reconcile.
This time, I refused, because I was marrying someone else.
“Cleo, after we sign the divorce papers tomorrow, I’ll temporarily stay with Helena. I promise, once the show wraps up, we’ll remarry.”
I ignored him and continued packing.
A hint of urgency flashed in his eyes. “Did you hear what I said?”
I replied coldly with a noncommittal "yeah."
“Then why are you packing?”
“Cleo, I swear this is the last time. I won’t let her disrupt our lives anymore, okay?”
I paused and met his gaze. “Caleb, do you realize how many times you've hurt me over the years? Have you ever truly loved me?”
His tone softened as he gently placed his hands on my shoulders. “I love you. I've loved you since the first time I saw you eight years ago, and that’s never changed. It never will.”
“But it's hard for Helena to raise a child alone. I just want to help her. When we divorced, I promised I’d always consider her family.”
I gave a self-deprecating chuckle. I’d heard this too many times. I knew the answer was always the same, yet I always wanted to give him another chance. But inevitably, he let me down again.
I didn’t let the conversation continue. “I found my birth parents. They want me to stay with them for a while.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me? How are they?”
I grew up an orphan, allegedly kidnapped and abandoned, then taken in by an orphanage. After being with Caleb, he tried to help me find my parents, but we never succeeded.
A year ago, my friend Elio, who grew up with me in the orphanage, found out where my biological parents were. At that time, Caleb divorced me for Helena again, so I didn’t care to tell him. Even after remarrying, I didn’t feel like sharing.
I replied calmly, “It’s not important. Go be with Helena, I’ll leave on my own later.”
His voice tinged with panic. “Of course it’s important. They’re my in-laws too. Even if things aren’t great, once we remarry, I’ll buy them a house nearby, okay?”
I sneered inwardly. I wanted to tell him that my parents were the wealthiest in New York and didn’t need his small gestures, but I was tired of talking to him at all.
I picked up my bags and walked out the door.
He followed, offering to drive me, but as soon as he sat in the driver’s seat, his phone rang.
I clearly saw the word "wife" on the screen.
Awkwardly, he glanced at me and explained, “It’s just for the show. Don’t misunderstand.”
“Oh, I’ve already called a car myself. You should answer it; don’t keep her waiting.”
He looked at me in surprise. “Why have you suddenly become so...”
I broke into a smile. “So indifferent, right? I cared for seven years. Did it help?”
With that, I got into the car I ordered, leaving the house without a backward glance.
