"Captain Holst?"

"Grimwald, bad news. A forest wildfire broke out in the mountains to the west. Three teams have already died on duty, and the situation shows no sign of improving. We're next."

My nerves tightened. Suddenly, my personal matters slipped from my mind. I had to be there for the team immediately.

"I'm ready for duty, sir!"

If the wildfire spiraled out of control, countless innocent lives would be at risk. Compared to that, my personal drama was laughably trivial.

"Not yet, Grimwald. You don't fully understand what we're facing. I want you to spend today with your family," Albert said. "Especially your wife. If I remember correctly, you're married, right?"

I stopped in my tracks. A heavy weight settled over me.

Everyone at the station knew I was married, but Hera had never appeared in person. She always refused to attend social events, even when others brought their families. I was certain my captain and teammates had nearly forgotten she existed.

"I understand, Captain Holst."

The call ended, and I sighed.

I had been Hera's husband for five years. Of course, I could predict her reaction or lack of one. Why would the Saintess care about the dangers I faced? Life was fleeting to the Awakened.

Even after warning her about the risks of my missions, the most she had ever offered was a scripted "take care," delivered without sincerity. I had grown so used to her apathy that I stopped burdening her with my work.

But this time, it could really be the end for me. Even if Hera showed no warmth or concern, I still had a duty to inform her.

When I finally returned home, I discovered a side of her I had never seen before. She was dressed to the nines—stunningly beautiful—and ready to leave in her car.

I approached her from the window. "Hey, I've got something I need to tell you."

She dismissed me. "Tell me after I return. I've got an emergency event to attend."

I frowned but did not back away. People suffering from that wildfire needed help immediately. I had to tell her now.

I wonder what kind of an "emergency event" it could be. Hera only ever went out for two reasons: work or a visit to an Awakenist monastery.

Then I noticed the passenger side. Edmund sat there, breaking Hera's silence. "Mr. Grimwald, I apologize. There's an afternoon tea party at my company today. She's my companion."

He turned to her. "Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should go alone."

"No. He never has anything important. I can't say the same for you," she replied placidly. She then started the engine and drove away.

For a while, I did not move. It was as if my entire body had turned to stone. I certainly felt my heart weighing down on my chest.

Hera had declined so many of my social events for years. Yet when Edmund asked, she accepted immediately and dressed for the occasion.

I could not even ignore the fact that the event wouldn't even start until the afternoon, yet they were leaving early in the morning.

"An Awakenist would not lie, you said. And yet you had to be lying. You treat Edmund like he is your husband. Why else would you agree to be his companion? What, is your attendance somehow benefiting Bobby's wellbeing too?" I muttered bitterly.

There was no reason for me to stay here any longer. This house used to mean something to me, but now, it was just an eyesore. Every step I took to leave here felt like crushing every precious memory I shared with her under my foot.

…

In the evening, Hera suddenly sent me a text.

Hera: [I'm free. We can have dinner. You can tell me about whatever you wanted to say.]

It read as though the Saintess was generously granting me an audience out of pity.

I hesitated but decided to seize the opportunity. After all, we could discuss the divorce. If I were to perish in the fire, I would want to leave the world without any regret or lingering attachment.

I reserved a table at the restaurant where we had our first date. I told her to come alone.

This was our beginning. It should also be our end.

The restaurant's interior remained remarkably unchanged. The same wind chime still hung over the window.

If only we hadn't changed, too.

She never responded. I waited until after nine at night, when the restaurant was about to close.

I should have known. The Saintess felt nothing for me. I did not even feel bitter. Her indifference was as unyielding as the laws of nature.

Just as I was about to leave, Hera arrived—with Edmund and Bobby.

I frowned. This was meant to be the end of our relationship. I had asked for privacy and no witnesses. She clearly did not care.

"I came straight from work. Edmund and Bobby haven't eaten yet. What's wrong with them tagging along?" she demanded.

Before I could protest, the man and his son took their seats across the table. Hera ignored the empty spot beside me and squeezed in on their side.

"Edmund said he'll cover the bill. He feels sorry for everything that's happened," she stated. "Honestly, Sebastian, you should learn from him. Be a little more generous and big-hearted."

She sounded so nonchalant, as if she hadn't just sunk another knife into my chest. I held my tongue only because this was going to be our last dinner.

I had planned to say goodbye, but Edward and Bobby's presence made it impossible. I wondered if Hera would regret bringing them along if she knew this was truly the end.

Then again, maybe it no longer mattered. She had wasted this chance and showed little remorse. The Saintess had become so distant and cold that I could no longer imagine her warmth.

"Mr. Grimwald, please help yourself to anything you like! Dinner's on me!" Edmund said cheerfully. "Ira has been very kind. I'm also thrilled you've agreed to adopt Bobby. Thank you so much!"

He raised his glass to my direction, but I stared at him without moving.

He froze in embarrassment. That's when Hera said softly, "Don't waste your good spirit on him. He's not as big-hearted or friendly as you are."

She clinked her glass against Edmund's, casually dismissing me in the process. Then she called out sweetly, "Bobby, cheers!"

They toasted and laughed, already deep in conversation about decorating Bobby's room and what colors he liked.

At that moment, I felt like a stranger sharing the same table. A realization struck me, and I asked, "Was it you who wanted to have dinner with me? Or was it him?"

"Of course it was him. He wanted to apologize for your hurt feelings," she replied, annoyed. "I wouldn't have had the time."

If I had any hope that she cared about me, it died at that moment. As it turned out, what was supposed to be our last goodbye was a suggestion on Edmund's part. The Saintess herself would not have cared.

It pained me. But at the same time, it gave me the push to say what I wanted to say.

"My captain called. There's a wildfire in the west, and they need me to help contain it. It's dangerous. I may not make it back," I said. "I think we should get a divorce. That way, you'll be free of me. You can all be together."

A sense of relief overcame me, but it faded quickly. As time passed, fresh waves of pain crashed in. No one had listened. Not a single person met my gaze. They laughed, chatted, and told jokes. They simply did not care.

I raised my voice. "Hera Bishop, did you hear what I said?!"

She sliced a piece of steak and set it on Bobby's plate. "Oh? Yeah. Take care."

I laughed. How the hell had our relationship managed to last this long like this?

Fine. She was disinterested. I had no reason to be here anymore.

Just as I stood to leave, the hanging light above me broke loose, swung down, and smashed into my head. Glass shattered. Blood poured down my face—hot, thick, and sticky. I could feel every eye in the restaurant lock onto me.

"Sebastian!" Hera shot to her feet and rushed toward me.

I had never seen Hera panic before. She looked like she was about to cry for me!

Could she actually still love me?

Then, suddenly, I heard Bobby wail tearfully, "Mooom! Dad is bleeding! I'm scared!"

She turned. Edmund was covering his bleeding shoulder, wincing. Some of the glass shards seemed to have cut through his skin a little.

"I'm taking you to the hospital!" Hera declared instantly.

She immediately forgot me, took his hand, and prepared to leave.

"Wait. We have to bring him along, right? His injury is worse," Edmund murmured.

Bobby, however, bawled. "I don't want him to follow us! He's bleeding everywhere! I'm scared!"

Edmund did not correct his son or insist that I needed help. Instead, he looked at Hera expectantly.

She took only a few seconds to make her choice.

"We can't bring him. Bobby's afraid of blood and might faint seeing Sebastian like this," she declared. "He's gonna be fine. He's a firefighter and knows how to do first aid on himself. Let's go."

She scooped Bobby into her arms, took Edmund by the hand, and left me bleeding in the restaurant where we'd had our first date five years ago.

Blood and tears blurred my vision.

The restaurant owner was the one who took me to the hospital. Fortunately, the cuts turned out to be less serious than the bleeding had made them out to be. All I needed was some first aid and a bandage.

The physical pain was nothing compared to what tore through my chest. I lay on the sick bed, my senses growing numb. I knew she wasn't thinking of me.

I just wished my injury was not severe enough to compromise my ability to help with the wildfire.

That night, I drifted between painful wakefulness and torturous dreams. Through it all, my phone stayed silent. No texts. No calls. Maybe only Edmund and Bobby mattered to her now.

…

When my phone finally rang, it was a call from Albert. "Grimwald! Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir! I'm ready for duty."

My head was no longer hurting as much. I got out of bed and flexed my muscles a little. They were fine.

I did not think I needed to inform Hera of anything anymore. The Saintess had no time for a mortal of my status.

"Alright. No need to rush to the station, Grimwald. The situation is dire. Our superiors are making sure that our equipment is complete and sufficient before deploying the Beta Team," Albert explained. "They told me we'll be heading out in the afternoon. I'll update you once they confirm a more specific time."

I was stunned. I had to wait another half a day? Where was I supposed to go in the meantime?

Home? No. This might be my last time on Earth. That was all the more reason to avoid putting myself in a dehumanizing situation.

Suddenly, Hera called.

"Sebastian, please refrain from coming home for the moment. Bobby said he doesn't like seeing you. Every time you're around, his father either gets upset or has some kind of accident. He's just a child; it's natural for him to think this way. You need to give him more space and time to adjust," she said coldly.

"I reserved a hotel room for you and instructed the majordomo to bring your suitcase over. While you're at the hotel, Edmund will stay home to help Bobby settle in." She paused. "Don't worry, Edmund will sleep in your room. Nothing will happen between us."

Nothing had changed. She never called to discuss anything—only to inform.

"That is all. I still have a meeting to attend."

I listened to the disconnect tone once the call ended. She'd grown bolder, hadn't she?

Since I found out about them, she no longer cared to hide. She adopted the child without asking for my opinion. Now, she had found an excuse for Edmund to stay in the house while kicking me out.

The only thing missing was an admission of their relationship. But why would she grant me that honesty? To the Saintess, I was just a mortal.

"Fine. I guess I wasted five years of my life on her."

With a mission this dangerous, I could very well be at the end of my life. Whatever time I had left would be too precious to be wasted on this drama.

It was time to move on.

…

After being discharged, I headed to the hotel. The majordomo had sent my suitcase along with Hera's laptop. He had probably mistaken it for mine, since I had gifted it to her for our anniversary.

I had accidentally chosen a color she disliked—black—but she did not seem to mind and had been using it ever since. This laptop was her entire workstation.

At first, I did not even want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Then I remembered the photos we might have stored there, memories of better days before she became obsessed with the Awakenist creed. I wanted those memories gone. If our relationship was over, the pictures should be gone as well.

I turned on the laptop. Before I could start going through her files, her Discord window popped up.

Edmund's photo stung my eyes. She'd pinned him to the top of her chat list and nicknamed him "Ed." Just two letters, but they carried a staggering sense of closeness. I could choke on it.

What about our chat? I used to message her a dozen times a day. Where was our conversation?

I scrolled down, my heart aching. Edmund was the only one pinned at the top. Below him were groups within her company, conversations with other executives, and her clients. Then came Awakenist groups, and even a chat with the monastery abbot.

I kept scrolling until I reached the very bottom, where my original Discord handle appeared. She hadn't bothered to give me a nickname. Worse, I was the only one muted.

No wonder her replies were always so scarce. I could send her a dozen texts and get only one- or two-word answers.

That affectionate, two-word nickname contrasted sharply with the cold ,curt replies she sent after I poured out my worry and care. The ironic sentimental difference was tearing me apart.

A chill sank deep into my bones. It was suffocating. I couldn't bear to read any further.

Then, suddenly, a notification appeared.

It was from "Ed." He had sent a dozen pictures of Hera attending Bobby's school events. The first showed all three wearing matching shirts, holding hands, their faces lit with wide grins.

The second showed Hera and Edmund walking side by side as they led Bobby to poke a balloon.

The third showed Edmund sharing a cookie with her. They were eating it at the same time, their lips nearly touching.

The pictures just kept getting more and more intimate. I had never seen the stoic and aloof Saintess show such an array of emotions.

"An Awakenist must always remain composed," she used to tell me.

Yet, she looked overjoyed in every photo.

And even more damningly was the timestamp at the bottom of the photos. These pictures were taken ten minutes ago.

So that was why she hadn't wanted me to come home. She was worried I would see all of this. And to think she'd told me she had a meeting today.

"You said an Awakenist never lies. But lying is all you've done throughout our marriage," I muttered.

I instinctively reached for my phone to confront her but stopped.

What was the point? Everything was already clear. Even if she refused to go through with the divorce, the nature of my upcoming mission was such that I might not even survive.

Why burden myself with more pain on what might be the last day of my life?

I put the phone down. I was about to shut off the laptop and leave with my suitcase when another message from Edmund appeared. This time, it was a video. The thumbnail showed him and Hera standing on a classroom stage. Once again, happiness poured from them like a flood.

Was this video new?

Quaking, I clicked play.

A teacher was introducing Hera and Edmund as Bobby's parents before offering them the stage to talk about how they had met.

Hera grabbed Edmund's hand and pulled him behind her, looking sheepish. The Saintess, who had never shown me anything but stoic composure, was blushing.

"Edmund and I were childhood friends. He was my first crush," she began. "We went to the same elementary school, middle school, high school... and eventually the same college. He didn't confess his feelings until then…"

Her blush deepened. "Before I knew it, college was over, and my arm was around his as we stepped into the church to exchange vows. He is the best thing that ever happened to me. No one else could have been as perfect as he is—and he loves me back!"

My eyes widened. Edmund was her first love? But she had told me I was her first crush. She had said she had never felt this way about anyone before and made me promise to treat her right.

I was hopelessly in love with her. I would have obliged even if I weren't her first love. I gave her everything she wanted, be it material or emotional.

And this was what I got?

It felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest and thrown to the floor again. I felt my entire being implode. I could not breathe.

I collapsed to the floor, my body trembling and my breath coming in short gasps. Meanwhile, tears blurred my vision. She had been lying to me even before we were together. Our marriage had never been filled with lies—the truth had simply never existed between us.

The video was still playing. I could hear "Oohs" and "Aahs."

Someone urged Hera to share more details about their love story, "Tell us about the romantic things he did for you!"

Romance? These people had no idea how dull Hera truly was. I had once poured effort into creating romantic moments. Each time, she showed less and less interest.

Then, she told me she hated romance. These things were distractions. Illusions, even. An Awakenist valued only sincerity.

I had believed her. That was why I had restrained my burning passion and love for her and lived the way she wanted. It was my proof of sincerity.

"Romantic things?" Hera's bashful voice drifted into my ears. "Oh, shucks. There were a lot. He's really the biggest romantic I've ever had the pleasure of meeting in my life.

"Once, he stayed up late three nights in a row to make me a handmade handbag. He was so embarrassed, he lied about winning it in a contest. He was yawning when he said that! And those eyes! His dark circles were really incriminating, believe me! I looked into those tired eyes and knew he was the one."

Hera took Edmund's hand, weaving her fingers between his, and met his gaze. "I still have that bag, by the way."

She turned to the audience again. "Another time, shortly after we married, I told him I didn't like the food served at my company. When I came home, he had prepared a feast of all my favorite dishes. Later, I found out he had searched every corner of the city for the best ingredients. He even burned his hands by accident while cooking!"

She lifted Edmund's hand and kissed it as the crowd watched.

"Then there was the time he accidentally did something funny. I felt bad for him and called him an idiot, but he said he would do it again even if he could turn back time because it made me laugh.

"Another time, when I was suffering from a high fever, he cared for me without rest for three days straight. In the end, he had to be hospitalized for exhaustion! But then he told me, 'Your life is more important than mine.'"

I could hear the crowd gasping and murmuring in envy. Their reactions cut through the air like knives on a chopping board, while my heart lay open for them to shred.

The video had much more to go, but I couldn't bear it any longer. I shut down the laptop.

Those romantic stories Hera recounted were true, but Edmund was not the one who had done those things.

"It was me. I was the one who did all of that for you!" I croaked, my voice cracking, speaking to no one in particular.

The Saintess was not without feeling. She longed for romance, joy, and little surprises. She craved love.

She was simply as distant and cold as a statue of the holiest goddess when she was with me.

She remembered everything I had done for her. All of it. But she preferred to pretend another man had done them.

That handbag I had made for her? She had thanked me like it was a part of a procedure and had never used it once. When I asked why, she said she hated the style. I had felt really bad about it and had told myself I should have learned about her fashion sense better.

The feast I had prepared for her? She had not even taken a bite. In fact, she had thrown a fit at me for preparing it. She had said wasting food and ingredients in her honor was an insult to her character as an ardent Awakenist. I had explained myself to her despite how hurt and stunned I had been, saying I just wanted her to be happy.

She had ignored me and gone on an impromptu retreat at an Awakenist monastery instead for a week. I had not even realized she had noticed the scald burns on my hands.

Now I knew. She had seen them but just had not cared.

And the story about her fever? I had taken an extended leave at work so that I could take care of her for days. She had told me to leave her alone, and I had assumed it was because she had felt bad for my efforts. Thus, I had told her her life was more important than mine.

She had been disgusted, reprimanding me, "This fever is a test, you fool! Lord Zeno is testing my faith! It's a blessing in disguise! So don't even think about stepping into my room. Your ignorance will hinder me!"

I had felt so remorseful over it that I started reading everything there was about Awakenism.

But you know what I found? Nothing! There was not a single mention of sickness being any kind of test or "blessing in disguise" in the actual doctrine.

At the time, I had assumed I had simply read the wrong books or missed out on certain resources. But now I knew that it was an excuse.

She already knew how much I had done for her. She even agreed that it was nice. The problem was that she did not want me to be the guy who had done it.

So this was why it was my fault, huh? I should not have met her.

I should not have loved her.

My tears dried, and I felt liberated. I was so glad to be able to come to the truth at a moment like this—when my survival in the upcoming mission was uncertain.

Now, I could really move on and end this farce of a union with the Saintess who had never loved me.

I asked for a paper and a pen from the front desk. Then, I wrote my farewell letter.

[Hera,

[I have made up my mind. You may disagree or argue about the timing with your religious obligations, but our relationship is over.

[I have decided to step out of your life so you and your true love can be together.

[Bobby is your biological son, isn't he? You had him with Edmund.

[What I don't understand is why you went through the exhausting act of dating me, hiding things from me, and then enduring a marriage with me for half a decade. Wasn't it suffocating? Wasn't it tormenting?

[From my side, you showed me how much of a fool I was to hold on to you for five years. I ran out of tears, but I wasn't crying for you—I was crying for myself. My heart ached for me.

[As your ex-husband, I hate you. But as a firefighter, I have no regrets about saving your life and theirs. Now, I am a firefighter again. I have an assignment to carry out.

[You can imagine I die on duty if you want, because no matter what happens, we will never see each other again.

[Take care, Hera.

[Farewell.]