I had seen him at twenty-two, lying in a pool of blood, calling my name.
I had seen him at twenty-five, drunk at a banquet table after his startup finally took off, holding me and saying, “Steph, I love you. I can finally give you a good life.”
A cigarette burned down to the filter.
He crushed the stub against the balcony railing.
His phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and didn't answer.
But I saw it clearly.
The name saved on that screen.
“Little Crybaby.”
Something turned over in my stomach, and acid rose into my throat.
I bit down hard on my lip and forced it back down.
Finn slipped the phone back into his pocket, then pulled out his wallet and took out a card.
“This is the household money for the month.”
He held the card out.
I didn't take it.
He gave a short scoff, stepped closer, and pushed the card straight into the pocket of my pajamas.
Then he stepped back and looked at me.
His eyes ran over me from head to foot, like he was confirming something.
Then he spoke.
“Steph, you're not young anymore. When you make a scene, it isn't cute, and it definitely isn't playing hard to get. It just makes you look like a shrew.”
“So be good. Don't make a fuss. Pretend you didn't see anything, pretend you don't know.”
“It's better for you, and better for me.”
The door closed.
He was gone.
I stood where I was.
That bank card suddenly burned against me, an ache through my whole body.
The nausea surged up again.
This time I didn't hold it back. I turned and rushed into the bathroom, bent over the toilet, and dry-heaved for a long while.
But nothing came up.
I stayed crouched there, my forehead pressed against the cold rim of the porcelain.
My heart hurt, and my eyes hurt.
I wanted so badly to cry.
But not a single tear would fall.
As if to remind me again.
See? Teaching you to cry was the most useless thing of all.
And now he'd fallen for a woman who cried so well.
Still.
It was over.
All of it was over.
I got up.
The so-called household money he'd given me over the years, the necklaces and jewelry he'd given me on anniversaries.
I put it all into one box and set it in the most visible spot.
Then I dug out my phone and sent my best friend a message.
【Come take me home.】
After I sent it, I went to a law office and had the divorce agreement drawn up.
Only then did I go to his company.
The moment I reached the door.
I ran straight into Finn coming out with a girl in his arms, her face turned away where I couldn't see it.
When he saw me, he gave me a flat glance, as if he hadn't seen me at all, and moved to get into the car.
I stepped forward and blocked him.
I held out the divorce agreement.
“Sign it.”
Finn didn't even look at it. “Move. I've got something urgent. I don't have time for your scenes right now.”
I didn't move. My voice was steady.
“Finn, I'm not making a scene.”
Finn looked like he'd heard a joke.
He said nothing.
He just shoved me aside.
And got into the car with the woman in his arms.
I watched the car speed off.
Suddenly I wanted to know what he was going to do.
I raised my hand and flagged down a cab.
“Follow that Maybach up ahead.”
The car raced the whole way and stopped outside a villa on the city's outskirts.
I got out, paid, and walked toward the Maybach.
Just as I was about to get close.
The car suddenly began to move in a steady rhythm.
I froze where I stood.
Cold all over.
Something urgent.
So this was the urgent thing he'd meant?
A man's low growling and a woman's crying sounded as if they'd been blown up through a loudspeaker, a thousand times louder.
Boring into my ears without stopping.
But I didn't move.
I just stood there and watched and listened to the whole thing, my husband tangled up with another woman.
Before long, Finn pushed the car door open.
He helped out a woman whose flushed cheeks were wrapped in his suit jacket, tears still in her eyes.
