I was married to Chad Caldwell for ten years.

I met all his girlfriends during our marriage. Whenever he got bored and wanted to move on, I was his best excuse.

"If you marry me, you'll end up like her. Too familiar and no spark left."

On our anniversary, I wiped tears for his latest ex, a college girl, while he was at the movies with his new fling.

She used up a pack of tissues, and I seemed to see my old self in her.

Afterward, I asked Chad for a divorce.

He was confused. "Why not wait a bit? Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf."

I gave a faint smile but said nothing. Instead, I booked a plane ticket and flew across the ocean.

If he wouldn't turn around, I'd take the first step.

Marrying a playboy took some serious grit.

As the tissues in my hand got thinner, those words popped into my head.

The girl across from me, Rebecca Frye, was a senior in college. She'd been crying for two hours straight since walking in.

Her whirlwind romance with Chad lasted barely a month. It was hardly worth smearing her makeup over.

I tried to comfort her, but she suddenly looked at me with teary eyes.

"He once said I reminded him of you. Now I see it," she started.

I froze because none of Chad's exes had ever said that to me.

Rebecca sniffled, wiping her eyes. Then, with a mocking edge, she said, "I don't need your pity. You're way more pathetic than me."

She was spot on.

Everyone in Aurespring knew Chad married a saintly wife. She was such a saint that she forgot his repetitive betrayals and even helped clean up his messes.

I called every girl he dated during our marriage an ex. I had thrown my dignity out the window.

My phone buzzed with a text from Chad.

[Still not done? The movie is about to start.]

I set it face-down, meeting Rebecca's teary eyes.

"Whatever you want as compensation, just name it. I'll make it happen," I blurted.

I'd said that line so many times, I sounded like an HR representative handling layoffs.

She scoffed and shot to her feet. "I don't want anything."

I sighed, "You should."

Money, a car, or a house were the best choices. She should hold onto something solid.

But her glare turned icy. She grabbed her cold coffee and dumped it over my head.

She croaked, "I'm pregnant, and I'm keeping it."

I stared at her, speechless. Then a bitter smile crossed my face.

Sure enough, Chad didn't keep a single promise he made to me.

...

I climbed into the passenger seat, soaked to the bone. Chad was on the phone, making no moves to hide that he had gotten a new girl.

My hand tightened on the seatbelt, my nails digging in until my fingertips ached.

Whatever was said on the other end made him laugh, his crow's feet crinkling.

"Alright, alright, I'll come over tonight," he said, hanging up.

He started the car and glanced at me. His grip on the wheel tightened, his face darkening.

"She did that?" he asked.

Silent, I pulled out tissues and started to wipe my hair.

He leaned over and took the tissue from me. "Stay still."

I instinctively leaned away, but he pulled me into his arms, carefully wiping my hair.

A deep frown adorned his face. "You just sat there and let her douse you? Where is that fire you used to throw at me?"

His words made me pause. The weightless feeling that hit me when I saw Rebecca spread through my chest.

I broke free from his arms and spoke flatly. "I can't lose it on a pregnant woman, can I? What do you think?"

His face tightened, but he kept wiping my hair.

We didn't talk after that. He drove silently, while I stared out the window.

My peripheral vision caught him stealing glances at me. Ripples stirred in my heart, spreading outward.

I had long passed disappointment. Now my heart was numb and empty.

The movie was a blur. Chad spent most of it texting.

The special moment of our anniversary crumbled to ruins as the curtains closed. The even more pathetic part? I had to sit next to him and watch his show.

Those on the guest list were our family and friends. His family had sent invitations as early as two weeks ago.

At dinner, the glasses clinked.

Chad entertained the guests while peeling shrimp for me.

A small pile grew on my plate, but I gawked at Chad's rolled-up sleeve, his wrist exposed.

Around it was a hair tie. Whose? I didn't know.

Nausea churned in my gut, killing my appetite.

A guy who peeled shrimp for me might not love me. A guy who never forgot the anniversaries might not love me. A guy who never took off his wedding ring, even in the shower, might not love me.

Thanks to Chad, I learned that the hard way.

...

We grew up together, and our families were evenly matched.

But his sweetheart had always been my sister, Heather Bennett.

Back when I barely understood love, I knew our families planned to set them up.

I'd seen Heather blush when she went on dates with him. I'd seen Chad, known for his wild streak, go quiet only around her.

Knowing my place, I buried my vague feelings and hid the records I collected for him.

In the trio, I was just Heather's shadow. When their love peaked, there was no longer a place for me.

The turning point came when Heather was 20. Always poised and gentle, she ran from her engagement and died on a doomed flight.

Her diary exposed everything. Our family's crumbling crisis and ugly secrets had no cover left.

Heather's shyness turned out to be all an act. She was a pawn for our parents. The engagement wasn't a fairytale. It was our parents' scheming.

Her one act of defiance cost her life, leaving me to carry the Bennett family's last hope. I was rushed into an engagement and marriage.

I saved the Caldwells' reputation and the Bennetts from bankruptcy. I didn't even have time to sort out if I felt more grief or joy.

Even as a stand-in, I married the man I'd loved since I was a kid. But when we exchanged rings, I was the only one flipping.

During the kiss, Chad's lips brushed past mine, leaving words that haunted us both.

"If you don't want this, why force it?"

Back then, we agreed that we'd each get what we needed. But ten years of marriage? That was my mistake.

He did everything for me, but there was no love in it.

...

The banquet ended past midnight.

I couldn't tell if it was the wine or a headache, but I dozed off right after I got in the car.

Half-asleep, I faintly heard Chad flirting with his new girl over speakerphone.

Those sweet nothings. He couldn't get enough of them, but I was already sick of hearing them.

During a pause, he seemed to touch my forehead.

Then the car screeched to a stop, and he cursed, "Damn it! You're burning up and didn't say a word?"

He ended the call, fumbling to cover me with his jacket. I thought I heard him whisper my nickname.

Probably, it was the fever at work. I gave a bitter smile.

He always called me by my full name, like he was afraid I'd think he wanted me, not Heather.

When one was sick, they were weaker but clearer. Exhaustion hit me. This one-sided love had worn me out.

The car moved again, the speed and weightlessness dulling my senses.

Chad kept answering calls, mentioning the hospital and doctors. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

When the car stopped again, I struggled to look up.

He unbuckled and jumped out, running toward a slim figure at the hospital entrance. He wrapped Rebecca tightly in his arms.

Those broken words earlier finally made sense.

"Wait for me. Don't do anything rash. I'm almost there. It will be alright."

Every word was for her.

From a distance, I heard her sobbing and heard him soothing her.

"I'd never let you hurt yourself," he said. "Alright, we're not breaking up. As for the baby, we'll figure it out."

Some painful memories were evoked from the corners of my mind.

We used to have a child. It was six months into our marriage.

...

At that time, I was treading carefully in front of the Caldwells while running around for my family.

Then the baby stopped developing before I realized it.

I couldn't forget Chad's cold voice outside the hospital room.

"It's not a bad thing. The baby shouldn't have existed anyway," he said.

After that, we reached an unspoken agreement. He kept playing the field, while I only wanted to keep my family afloat.

He could date anyone he liked as long as he didn't knock them up. Sadly, he broke his word, and my parents passed away, which rendered our marriage meaningless.

I didn't want to force it anymore.

I leaned against the car window, my breath hot. He calmed Rebecca down and walked back to me.

I just watched without feeling anything. He opened the door, put my arms around his neck, and carried me toward the ER.

Over his shoulder, I saw Rebecca sniffle and stare at me with contempt. As he passed, she reached for his shirt but grasped the air.

Chad strode forward, his handsome face set in stone. His serious expression always gave me false hope, like he'd come back no matter how far he strayed.

The illusion was finally shattered. I shook my head and snapped out of it.

"Chad, let's get a divorce," I said.

His steps faltered, but his eyes didn't meet mine.

"Huh?"

"Divorce. Okay?"

His expression shifted from anger to confusion. In the end, a chuckle escaped from his mouth.

"Why not wait a bit? Maybe in a few years..." he muttered, smirking at me, "I'll turn over a new leaf."

I smiled bitterly, and my eyes stung probably because the fever was spiking.

"What can I do? There is no spark left. Let's be buddies instead," I said, repeating what he had once said.

He stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles twitched.

"No spark left?" he muttered.

My eyes blurred with tears, but I maintained my smile. "We shouldn't have married. You were right back then. Grace Bennett? I'd rather be her buddy."

...

Chad didn't need to be my buddy anymore.

My family had leaned on him for a decade. Now we had become a burden. So, when word of our divorce spread, his family seemed relieved.

I signed the divorce papers despite my fever, then slumbered for two days.

When I woke up, Chad's name was on the last page of the agreement. I stared at it blankly, feeling lost and a little guilty.

The agreement wasn't exactly noble. Every time I dealt with his exes, he sent me money.

I saved every cent. Yet, I still angled for more in the property split.

He was too sharp not to see my greed, but he still signed it without hesitation. That left me lost for a while. Maybe he'd been waiting for me to bring up divorce the whole time.

Even if it cost him a fortune, it beat another decade of this mess.

My fever broke. I packed with what little energy I had. Ten years fit into two half-empty suitcases.

I dragged them downstairs, seen by the maids and the driver.

"Mad... Ms. Bennett, should we tell Mr. Caldwell you're leaving?" one of them asked.

I shook my head. "No need."

No one said goodbye, and no one stepped forward. They paused for a while, then went back to their tasks.

I felt a pang of sadness. Clearly, everyone in the house knew that I was just passing through.

The car slowly pulled away from the villa, but I didn't look back. The memories since my childhood ended right there.

The driver broke the silence. "Need a tissue?"

Only then did I realize my face was wet with tears. I should have felt free, but it took time for a bird freed from its cage to adjust.

At the airport, I got my boarding pass and swapped my SIM card. Once on the plane, I fell into a deep sleep.

These past days had left me exhausted and disoriented. Dreams provided the only escape for me to lick my wounds.

After a dozen hours, I landed across the ocean.