Nine months of careful planning had gone into our anniversary trip. And yet, despite my objections, Wynona insisted on bringing her male assistant along. Her excuse was that she could not afford to neglect work.

On the third day of the trip, I filed for divorce.

"Noah, are you serious? You really want a divorce?"

"Yes. I’m done." I nodded without hesitation. "There’s no point in dragging this out. Let’s end it while we still have some dignity left."

——

"What’s the reason?" Her brows shot up in disbelief. "Say it, Noah. Say it clearly."

I turned away and leaned against the hotel window, gazing out at the turquoise waters of the Maldives. This was supposed to be a romantic getaway for our fifth anniversary—something I had poured my heart into planning for nearly a year.

But now, even the sunlit ocean felt cold and mocking.

"You’ll find out the reason soon enough."

Right then, the doorbell rang. Wynona turned to open the door and there stood her assistant.

"Mrs. Rhodes, the meeting call starts at ten," the assistant, Glen Watson, said softly, his voice deliberately gentle.

His gaze flicked toward me and a faint, smug curve tugged at the corners of his mouth.

However, I did not flinch.

"Wynona," I began, my voice calm but cold. "You and your assistant have had more than a dozen meeting calls in the past two days."

"Day and night, you’ve spent more time with him than you have with your husband."

"Tell me—do you really think there’s anything left in this marriage worth saving?"

She frowned. "What’s wrong with that? You know how important this deal is to me."

"A deal?" I stepped closer, locking eyes with her. "You brought three suitcases for our anniversary trip, Wynona. Two of them were filled with documents."

"You didn’t pack a single outfit for me—not even your own swimsuit—but somehow, you managed to pack for Glen."

"Care to explain why?"

She was silent.

Glen stepped in at just the right moment, that infuriating sweet smile still glued to his face. "Mr. Saunders, this is my fault," he said humbly. "I didn’t organize the schedule properly. I disrupted your time together, so please don't blame Mrs. Rhodes."

He lowered his head, his bangs falling across his forehead like a schoolboy pretending to be remorseful, eyes full of staged guilt.

"Mrs. Rhodes has been under so much pressure lately. It’s only natural to forget a few things. Please don’t blame her."

I watched him closely. As he spoke, I noticed his fingers brushed against Wynona’s wrist. It was too subtle, but calculated. And more importantly, Wynona did not pull away.

"Watson," I said coolly, "I’m speaking to my wife. You don’t get to interrupt."

Glen instantly took a half step back. "I’m sorry, Mr. Saunders. I overstepped."

He turned to Wynona like a soaked puppy waiting to be let back inside. Pathetic.

"I’ll go prepare the meeting materials now," he said. "I won’t bother you anymore."

"Wait." Wynona caught his arm.

Then she turned to me, that familiar look of stubbornness blazing in her eyes. "Noah, stop being unreasonable. You know my work isn’t like everyone else’s."

I stared at her.

"Is it so different that you need to share a room with your assistant? So different that you’re still whispering with him at two in the morning?"

I pulled out my phone and opened my photo album.

"Is it also different enough that he gets to call you ‘Wynnie,’ while I—your husband—have to book an appointment just to have dinner with you?"

Glen’s expression twitched, just for a second, before his mask of innocence slid back into place.

"Mr. Saunders, this is all a misunderstanding," he said, his voice smooth. "There were just too many documents to handle last night, so we..."

"Shut up," I snapped at Glen, my voice cold and sharp, with no effort to conceal the contempt dripping from every word.

Wynona’s brows knitted in shock. "Noah! How can you talk to Glen like that? He’s my most capable assistant!"

I let out a low, bitter laugh. "Capable, huh? Then tell me—how much has he actually contributed to the company? How many major deals has he closed? How many clients has he brought in?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Glen lowered his head, playing the part of the humbled employee. "Mr. Saunders is right. I still have a lot to improve. I haven’t done enough to lighten Mrs. Rhodes’s workload."

As if on cue, Wynona placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her eyes full of concern, before turning that same sharp gaze back on me.

"Noah, that’s enough!"

"Glen has been working around the clock on this deal. Can’t you see how dedicated he is? What gives you the right to question him?"

"Day and night?" I scoffed. "Yes, even during our anniversary trip, he’s been glued to your side day and night. Truly commendable dedication."

Her face flushed. She raised her voice, clearly losing her patience. "Do you have to be so sarcastic all the time?"

"Glen is my assistant, Noah. He’s doing his job. What’s wrong with that? Do you want me to drop everything just to soothe your insecurities?"

"Insecurities?" I echoed.

I repeated her words slowly, the absurdity of it all crashing over me.

Then, I pointed straight at Glen. "You shared a room with him until almost dawn, while I—your husband—slept alone in an empty bed."

"He touched your hand, Wynona, right in front of me. And you didn’t even flinch."

"Since the day he joined the company, every time something goes wrong, you defend him and blame me."

"You never question him for all that—not even once. And now you’re telling me I’m the unreasonable one?"

Glen jumped in quickly, like he had rehearsed the script. "Mr. Saunders, please, don’t get the wrong idea. I have nothing but respect for Mrs. Rhodes. I would never cross that line."

"No other thoughts?" I scoffed, narrowing my eyes. "Even you don’t sound like you believe that. So why should I?"

That was the final spark. Wynona snapped like a lit fuse. She stepped in front of him, shielding him as though I were the one attacking.

"Noah, stop this nonsense!" she shouted. "Glen is my employee and my friend. I won’t let you insult him!"

I stared at her. I searched her eyes, desperate for a flicker of guilt, even a flicker of doubt. But there was nothing. Just anger and defiance.

And suddenly, all the fire in me just burned out. I was so tired.

I did not want to hear another word. So, I turned and walked away.

"Noah!" she called after me, panic suddenly creeping into her voice. "Where are you going?"

I did not even look back.

That evening, I sat alone on the terrace, smoking in silence as the sky faded into a blanket of dark blue. Eventually, Wynona returned.

"Noah," she called out gently, her tone far softer than it had been earlier, coated now with just the right amount of sweetness. "There are too many mosquitoes out here. Come inside, won't you?"

I did not respond. I just kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, where the ocean met the darkness.

She sighed, walked closer and reached out to take the cigarette from between my fingers.

I shifted slightly, just enough to keep it out of reach. Her hand froze midair, fingers hanging there for a beat too long before she slowly let them fall back to her side.

"Don’t be like this," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper now. "Can’t we just talk—really talk?"

For the first time that evening, I looked at her.

She was wearing black lingerie. The sheer fabric barely covered anything and it shimmered under the moonlight.

It was the same set I had given her on our honeymoon. Back then, she said it was too revealing, so she refused to wear it. I never thought she would bring it here.

"Does it look good on me?"

She tilted her head slightly, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. I stubbed out my cigarette, stood and walked past her without a word, heading back into the room.

"Put on some clothes," I said flatly. "Let’s talk about the divorce agreement."

"Noah." She rushed after me and grabbed my wrist. "What do you want from me?"

"You know how much I love you," she pleaded. "I don’t want a divorce."

I stopped and turned to face her, staring straight into her eyes.

"If you don’t want a divorce, fine," I said evenly. "Then fire Glen—effective immediately—and promise me you'll never contact him again."

"Can you do that?"

She froze. Her grip loosened and she took a half step back, visibly stunned.

"You want me to fire someone that important to the company," she said slowly, "just because he’s my assistant?"

"Important?" I scoffed. "He’s been here six months and hasn’t closed a single deal on his own. He’s only holding onto his job because of you."

"You’re not stupid, Wynona. You’re a grown woman. Stop pretending you don’t see what’s right in front of you."

Her cheeks flushed with anger. "You’re being ridiculous. Glen is dedicated, responsible—even you can’t deny that. Without him, this deal wouldn’t be—"

"Wouldn’t be what? Without him, your work wouldn’t have changed a bit, would it?" I cut in sharply. "But you let him bleed into every part of our lives."

"You brought him on our anniversary trip. He sat at the next table while we had our dinner. And now, you defend him even right here, in our room, beside our bed."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her black lingerie rising with each breath, casting flickering shadows in the moonlight.

Once, the sight would have drawn me to her.

Now, all I felt was bone-deep exhaustion.

"You don’t understand," she said, her voice softening. "This is how the job works. I need his support—"

"I’m not negotiating," I snapped, cutting her off. "It’s him or me, Wynona Rhodes. That’s it. No middle ground. No third option."

Her eyes widened, as though she had not expected me to draw the line so clearly.

And then, a sudden shrill ring shattered the moment.

She rushed to the bedside table, glanced at the screen and immediately tensed. I did not need to look. I already knew who it was.

She picked up and her voice quickly shifted from worry to full-blown panic. "What? You fell? Are you hurt badly?"

"…Okay, I’ll be right there."

She hung up and scrambled to grab a coat, barely thinking to cover herself, still in the lingerie she had put on to seduce me.

"Wynona," I said, my voice calm and cold. "If you walk out that door tonight, we’re done. For good."

Her hand froze on the doorknob. The room went silent, time stretching so thin I could hear the pounding of my own heart.

Three seconds.

Five.

She turned to look at me and there was something in her eyes I could not recognize—something I had never seen before.

"Noah," she said, voice trembling, almost pleading. "Don’t do this. Glen is really hurt. We’re overseas and he’s here alone. There’s no one else to help him…"

"So what?"

I stood tall, unmoved. "The hotel has a doctor. Room service. An ambulance, if needed. He’s a grown man, not a toddler. And you’re not his mother."

"But he was working late—"

"Choose," I interrupted, my voice firm and unwavering. "Right now, Wynona. No excuses."

Her lips parted, trembling. Something flickered in her eyes—something I could not name.

Then she exhaled slowly before saying, "I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon."

And just like that, the last sliver of hesitation slipped out the door with her.

I stayed behind, reached for my phone and dialed a number.