Gareth's POV
Maybe they’d already made peace a long time ago. Maybe I was the only one still holding grudges, clinging to old wounds like a fool.
That night, I called up my childhood friend, Derek Lawson, a lawyer, and asked him to draft up divorce papers.
After hearing my request, he was stunned. “You’re divorcing Marjorie? What happened? Did she beat you?”
“No,” I said quickly. “She treats me well.”
Then, I explained, just briefly, about her forgiving her so-called sworn enemy.
Filled in, he let out a sharp laugh, half angry, half bitter. “Unbelievable.”
He then promised me he’d handle the divorce quickly.
It was still our batch reunion, but when I walked home from the noisy event place, the silence inside was suffocating.
At four in the morning, Marjorie finally stumbled back, reeking of alcohol. She climbed into bed and pulled me tight against her. Her lips brushed over mine, hot and insistent.
After three years of marriage, I knew what she wanted.
She pressed her body against me, one hand fumbling at the nightstand.
Heat flooded through me under her kiss until I heard a crisp sound of plastic.
Like ice water, my desire froze.
“Honey,” she whispered, “put on a condom first, then we’ll keep going.”
Clenching my jaw, I firmly refused.
And without warning, Silas’s words from earlier replayed in my head. "We even made a deal that until the scar on my collarbone healed, she wouldn’t give you a child."
My stomach churned after remembering that. I shoved her away, together with the condom she had forced into my hand.
Using a condom had never been a problem with me before, but somehow my eyes stung with tears now.
Turning away, I whispered, “Let’s get divorced.”
But when I looked back, she was already asleep.
Just then, her wedding ring slipped from her pocket, clinking softly to the floor.
She must’ve taken it off tonight, probably afraid of scratching Silas during whatever “game” they played.
I stared at it for a long time before slipping off my own ring and placing it in the nightstand drawer.
The next morning, Derek messaged me that the divorce agreement was ready.
Following that was another notification about the amusement park tickets.
Last week was my birthday, yet she skipped it, saying she had to work late, and booked the tickets as compensation.
Normally, after drinking, she would’ve slept until noon. But today, she was up early, fixing herself up in the new clothes I’d bought her just days ago.
Watching her in front of the mirror with a face mask on, my feelings twisted.
“Marjorie,” I said carefully, “I’ve got something to take care of today. The amusement park—”
“You go by yourself,” she interrupted, eyes on her phone. “I’ve got a client meeting. I’ll cancel it and just reschedule it for next week.”
I was stunned upon hearing her flat tone while saying that. It seemed almost rehearsed.
As she was busy fumbling with her phone, she didn’t even notice how gray my face had gone.
But just then, my phone buzzed with two notifications.
[Your amusement park reservation has been canceled.]
[Mrs. Frost, your payment for two adult tickets has been confirmed.]
Seeing my expression, she cupped my face and gave me a quick, half-hearted kiss. “Don’t sulk. You never used to be like this.”
She didn’t even try to coax me further. She just slipped on her shoes and headed for the door.
Choking back the lump in my throat, I asked, “This ‘client,’ is he more important than me?”
She looked back with a forced little smile and replied, “Don’t say that. I’m making money so we can reach financial freedom sooner, that’s all.”
And then she was gone.
But her spare phone lay flashing on the couch. Most of the messages on it were synced with her main one.
I picked it up and discovered that besides me, two group chats were pinned at the top.
At that sight, my palm began sweating.
One was with her friends, which I was also in.
The other also had the same people in it.
The only difference was that the only man in it wasn’t me.
It was Silas.
