"If you want to leave, fine! But you're not taking a damn thing from this house!" Luna snapped.
I thought back to the time when her career was just taking off. She had begged me to quit my job, to stay home and support her from behind the scenes. I'd agreed without hesitation. As a man, I was proud to stand by her.
Now all that loyalty had rotted into bitterness between us.
The love we'd shared when we were young had sharpened into a blade over the years instead. She didn't hesitate to turn it against me.
My hand shook on the suitcase handle. My voice caught in my throat as I forced myself to speak.
"You want me to open it so you can check?"
Luna arched an eyebrow and threw a judgmental glare. "And I’ll need to search you too. Everything you're carrying," she said coldly.
"Cyrus, do you think you're the only one who's been wronged? You know damn well what you did back then! If it weren't for your father getting down on his knees and begging me, you'd have walked away from this marriage with nothing!"
She paused, her voice dripping with fake generosity.
"Of course, if you want to change your mind, just get on your knees and apologize. Maybe then, I'll pretend none of this ever happened."
She was talking about that photo from five years ago, the one that "proved" I had cheated.
It was a mistake, a photo taken from a bad angle, but Luna didn’t care. She decided I was guilty and to punish me, she aborted our child—five months along—without a second thought.
I had tried to explain many times that I'd lost count. Luna still refused to believe a word I said. She even forced me to sign the consent forms for the abortion.
In the end, it had been my father who begged her not to leave me. That was the only reason we stayed together.
They say misunderstandings could be cleared up with time, but sometimes, when the bond broke, it’d be gone for good. I used to believe that if I just stayed quiet, stayed patient, kept making her happy, eventually I'd have the chance to explain everything.
Standing there now, I realized that it was nothing but a wishful thinking.
Some misunderstandings never go away. Because some people don't want the truth. Ever.
"Fine," I said, voice low.
With a loud snap, I threw open the suitcase.
My things spilled all over the floor. Aside from a few changes of clothes, I hadn’t taken anything with me.
A small crystal globe rolled to a stop at Luna’s feet. It was a gift she’d given me back in college when we first started dating—her way of confessing her feelings. Technically, it had always been hers.
She bent down to pick it up and right at that moment, I yanked off my shirt with a sharp rip.
“Luna, if you’re going to search me, then do it. Make it quick,” I said, my voice flat. “My ride’s still waiting outside.”
Since that incident five years ago, it was the only time I’d ever raised my voice to her.
Her hand trembled slightly as she held the crystal globe. Her eyes were red around the edges, welling up.
“Cyrus. You’re really something, aren’t you?” she spat. “Go ahead, strip down completely. Walk out of here butt-naked if you’ve got the guts!”
She hurled the crystal globe at me.
It shattered on the floor with a sharp, piercing crack that echoed through the hall—like the final snap of something that had already been splintering for years.
That globe was like our relationship. It shattered into pieces too jagged to put back together.
The people around us started realizing things were going sideways. One by one, they slipped away, smart enough to leave without a word. I could feel a burning gaze on my back, hot and heavy like it was searing through me. I turned, but there was no one there.
Within moments, the hall was completely empty. The older students, the ones who’d been around the longest, had quietly gone back to their rooms.
Seth was the only one still standing beside Luna. He was shifting with unease, but I could see something in his eye. A flicker of amusement was there. The kind of amusement anyone would have when watching a spectacular show.
"Alright then," I said. "I'll strip down if that's what you want." And I did it, just like that. In a few swift motions, I was down to nothing.
"Professor Luna Owen," I said calmly, "please sign the divorce papers. I’m fine walking away with nothing."
The moment Luna heard the words walk away with nothing, she burst out laughing—loud and sharp.
“Cyrus, do you actually think you can walk away clean? You’ve been out of touch with the real world for years. You can’t even land a basic job making three to five grand a month.”
“And who’s going to pay for your brother’s rehab? He’s practically paralyzed.”
“What about your dad’s gambling debts, huh? Or have you forgotten how he got down on his knees, crying like a dog, begging me not to leave you?”
Everything she said hit like a punch to the gut. She knew exactly where to aim—every weak spot, every vulnerability—and she never missed. That was her power over me. That was how she always won.
Bitterness welled up in my chest like something sour I couldn’t swallow.
For the first time, I truly understood what people meant by the broken windows effect—how one small crack, left unchecked, could lead to collapse.
