“I married you, Kristoff. I didn’t sell myself to you. Do I not even have the freedom to socialize like a normal person?”
“If Aileen and I really had something going on, our kid would already be old enough to buy soy sauce. Do you think there’d even be space left for you to throw a tantrum?”
That final taut string inside me snapped with a resounding crack.
“Yes—you’re right, it’s not my place!” My voice broke into a scream. “But I’ve had enough!”
All the resentment I had bottled up for years erupted at once.
I turned my gaze toward the window, fighting desperately to hold back my tears.
“Kristoff, you remember her period cycle. You remember she hates cilantro. At every dinner, you act like her servant, making sure her silverware and bowls are rinsed over and over with hot water.”
My eyes burned, and tears finally spilled.
“But the one thing you never remember is my mango allergy. On my birthday, you bought her favorite mango cake—and I almost died in the hospital from an allergic reaction.”
“When you were building your business, it was me who drank until my stomach bled, just to win you the investors you wanted. When you ran out of money, it was my parents’ life savings I pawned to cover your debts. Where was this so-called ‘sister' of yours then? Did she lift a single finger to help?”
“And now that you've made it, Mr. White—she suddenly drapes herself in the skin of ‘brotherhood’ and sticks to you like glue. And you—” my voice cracked, “—you actually enjoy it, don’t you?”
After letting everything out in one breath, I closed my eyes.
“Kristoff, let’s get a divorce.”
Silence fell. The only sound in the car was my own muffled sobs.
When I finally turned my head, I saw him slumped against the window, softly snoring in a drunken haze.
...
I sat alone until three in the morning.
Staring at the wedding photo on the coffee table, I finally dialed a lawyer.
"Sorry to bother you at this hour... Could you draft a divorce agreement for me?"
I was jolted awake by the sound of water running in the bathroom.
Kristoff adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, then looked down at his phone, grinning like an idiot.
My phone’s calendar reminded me—it was my birthday.
When he saw me awake, he came over and pinched my cheek playfully.
"Go back to sleep, wife. Later I have to check out Garrett's new camping project."
He acted as if nothing had happened.
It was always like this.
Every conflict was never resolved—if I stayed quiet, he would simply pretend nothing was wrong.
I opened my mouth, ready to speak, but he turned away, his fingers tapping rapidly across the screen.
A knock sounded at the door.
He set his phone down and strode out.
A strong, sinking feeling twisted in my chest. I picked up his phone.
The screen was still lit.
A group chat named "The Original Crew" was scrolling with messages.
Aileen: [I'm downstairs. Come greet your sister.]
My fingers scrolled up almost against my will. Each message stabbed me like needles.
[They're fighting again? Elodie is way too dramatic. I said from the start, you two wouldn't last.]
[She’s an outsider who’s eaten and drunk off us for five years. It’s terrible. Better to just divorce her and be with Aileen instead!]
Then came Aileen's reply, with a hug emoji: [I'm not even mad anymore. Kristoff said he's buying me that amazing camping site. Some people slave their whole lives, and I get it all just because I have a good brother~]
Kristoff's reply followed closely.
[Clinging to your brother finally paid off, huh? Now you know how good I am.]
[Mwah~ Let's go have fun today! Remember, no girlfriends allowed!]
[Kristoff, did you read that? Aileen said if you come, she'll share a tent with you tonight to show her gratitude.]
A freezing chill rushed to my head. My vision darkened.
How ridiculous.
Back then, Aileen had insisted I join their group, even renamed it “Perfect 6+1.”
And yet behind my back, they created another one.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to fit in.
