Chase’s first love, Joyce, posted an update on her social feed. It shared a news headline saying, “An asteroid may collide with Earth within a month. The United Nations has activated the Planetary Security Protocol for the first time.”

Beneath it, she wrote, “The end of the world, and you are not by my side.”

I was just about to laugh at her melodrama. Believing clickbait headlines and viral scare news, how ridiculous.

But not long after, my husband, an astronomy professor, rushed home in high spirits and told me he wanted a divorce.

“An asteroid will hit Earth in seven years. Let’s divorce. I don’t want to keep settling during the final month.”

My hands froze as I was washing his underwear. I looked at him in disbelief.

So this kind of news was not funny at all.

What was laughable was that as long as the words came from her, no matter how stupid they were, he would believe them.

I flung the dripping underwear straight at his face and said calmly,

“It’s just a divorce, right I agree.”

……

“I’m sorry, Emma.”

Chase’s voice came from the living room, calm, as if he were delivering an academic presentation.

“If this world really only has one month left, I want to spend the final days pursuing my true love.”

“That person was never you.”

When he said this, I was squatting in the bathroom, head lowered, scrubbing the underwear he had just taken off with my bare hands.

Cold water mixed with detergent ran over my fingers again and again.

My skin was already wrinkled, red, and burning with pain, yet I did not stop.

Because he was a Peking University astronomy professor.

He had always been meticulous, almost obsessive.

Clothes could not go into the washing machine. Underwear had to be washed by hand.

Every single piece.

This time consuming, exhausting housework had been my routine for ten years.

For those ten years, I buried my identity as a Beijing socialite, lowered myself into the dust, all to protect his pride.

And now, he stood in the living room and, in the calmest tone possible, sentenced my ten years of devotion to death.

When I did not respond, he seemed to lose patience. His voice suddenly rose, and he repeated himself.

“Let’s divorce.”

The television was still on.

The news anchor spoke clearly and formally.

“An asteroid may collide with Earth in seven years.”

The wording was identical to what Joyce had posted on her feed.

A 2.3 percent probability.

At that moment, it was infinitely magnified, like a nail driven straight into my heart.

I suddenly felt drained of all strength.

“Just 2.3 percent.”

I spoke softly, my voice hoarse and unfamiliar even to myself.

“You’re an astronomy professor. Can’t you tell what probability means? The chance of an actual collision is negligible.”

But he suddenly lost control, breathing rapidly, and shoved the bathroom door open.

“That’s not important!”

“Even if it’s only one in ten thousand, I don’t want to waste another moment with you!”

His eyes were red, yet his tone was unnervingly firm.

“Joyce can’t be alone anymore.”

“As long as you agree to the divorce, you can name any conditions you want.”

I stood hunched over at the sink. Water rushed loudly.

Tears fell without warning.

Ten years of marriage.

In the end, it could not withstand a hypothetical probability of the apocalypse.

The argument alarmed our son, who had been doing his homework in his room.

Felix stood at the doorway. After hearing everything, there was none of the panic I had expected on his face.

Instead, he was unusually calm.

“Mom, you shouldn’t tie Dad down.”

When he said this, his tone was exactly like Chase’s.

“An asteroid hitting Earth is such an important matter. Dad wants to be with the person he truly loves. What’s wrong with that?”

“I’ve met Aunt Joyce.”

“She’s like a fairy. She stays with Dad and me. I think it’s pretty good.”

At that moment, I froze.

So it was not just the eyebrows and eyes.

Even the way he spoke, that cold, self righteous certainty, he had learned it all perfectly.

I raised my hand and slowly wiped the tears from the corner of my mouth.

My other hand, however, instinctively pressed against my lower abdomen.

It felt empty there, unbearably cold, impossible to warm no matter how tightly I held it.

This child was never meant to stay.

A week earlier, in this same bathroom, I had stared at the clear red line on the pregnancy test, my heart pounding as if it were about to explode.

A second child.

I had even planned how I would tell him.

I never imagined that what awaited me instead would be this kind of judgment.

I lifted my head and flicked my wrist.

The freshly washed, dripping underwear flew through the air.

One hit Chase square in the face.

Another landed at my son’s feet.

“It’s just a divorce, isn’t it?”

I smiled, but the smile was colder than ice.

“I agree. It takes effect in seven days.”

“And as for your disgusting underwear.”

“From now on, let your fairy wash it for you.”

How ironic.

This man once loved me as if I were his life.

Eight years ago, he first saw me at the old Chase family estate.

Back then, I was nothing more than Old Master Gu’s caregiver, so insignificant that I was not even worth remembering by name.

Yet he fell in love with me at first sight.

One hundred confessions.

Not once or twice, but a hundred times.

I once lingered a little too long over the bellflowers in the garden. The next morning, every rose in the yard had been uprooted overnight and replaced with the color I liked.

When I twisted my ankle, he booked an entire hospital floor and stayed by my side for three days and three nights.

It was also then that I learned there had always been someone pursuing him.

Emma, a childhood sweetheart and the daughter of the richest family, had chased him for years, loving him loudly and fiercely.

But there had never been anyone else in his eyes.

“Joyce, I only love you.”

“So what if she’s a perfect match? All I feel for Emma is disgust.”

To force him to let go, the Chase family took back his shares and even used their connections to send him to a remote island overseas.

Twenty whole days.

He starved himself until the family compromised, and in doing so, shattered every last line of my defenses.

I believed him.

So I married him.

After the wedding, he did keep his promise, doting on me so openly that everyone knew.

For a while, I truly thought my life would stay like this.

Until half a year ago.

Emma, who had been gone for years, suddenly returned to the country.

And Chase’s attitude toward her changed.

He canceled international conferences and went to the airport himself to pick her up.

To host her welcome banquet, he stayed away from home for three full days.

I swallowed my grievance and asked him about it. For the first time, he told me the truth.

“A year ago, I was in a car accident in the UK.”

“Shiyu saved me. She was in a coma for an entire year.”

He said it so calmly, yet every word stabbed into my heart.

“Joyce, I only love you.”

“But she just woke up. I have to repay this life debt.”

“One year. Just one year, alright?”

At first, I believed him.

I thought love could wait.

Until the night of that banquet.

My old illness relapsed, and I was rushed into emergency treatment.

But Chase’s phone was unreachable, no matter how many times I called.

Left with no choice, my mother went to the luxury yacht where the banquet was being held.

She never came back.

Everyone said it was an accident.

They said she lost control of her emotions and jumped into the sea.

Even Chase, who was not at the scene when it happened, chose to believe that.

But I knew better.

That night, after I was pushed out of the emergency room, I clearly received a phone call.

The other end was chaotic and piercing.

I heard Emma’s sharp scolding, and I heard my mother’s agonized screams.

She did not kill herself.

She was forced into the sea.

For the past six months, I lived in guilt and collapse.

Crying until my voice was gone, hurting until I was numb.

Until I pried a trace of the truth from a waiter.

I begged Chase countless times to help me.

But at that criminal private prosecution hearing, he stood on the opposite side without hesitation.

He protected the person who killed my mother.

To force me to submit, he even threatened me with my mother’s ashes.

At that moment, I looked at him and felt as if this man were a stranger who had crawled out of hell.

I was desperate.

And I gave in.

My fingers trembling, I signed my crooked name on that letter of apology.

“Are you satisfied now?”

“Then let them come back from the sea…”

The words had barely fallen when a sharp cry suddenly rang out behind me.

Emma suddenly clutched her head and collapsed over the defendant’s bench.

“Chase, help me… my head hurts again.”

The next second, Chase panicked. He threw down his tablet and rushed over.

On the livestream, the countdown had already ended.

Without receiving his command to stop, several bodyguards opened the urn.

“No!”

I screamed like a madwoman.

“Chase, tell them to stop. Now!”

But they would not listen to me.

I tried to chase after him, to grab hold of him.

Yet his eyes and heart held only Emma. As he carried her out, his elbow slammed hard into me.

I fell to the ground. My forehead struck the corner of the table.

Tears fell, one by one, onto the cold screen.

Too late.

It was already too late.

On camera, the ashes were poured down from the ship.

Against the biting sea wind, they scattered, little by little, vanishing into the surging waves.

In that instant, my heart felt as if it were torn apart alive.

My mother had always been afraid of the cold.

She hated the freezing sea more than anything.

And now, not only had she died there, she would be trapped there forever.

“Mom, I’m sorry…”

I cried until I broke down completely.

At that moment, regret consumed me.

I regretted falling in love with Chase.

I regretted marrying him.

I drafted the divorce agreement. It would take effect soon.

Just after finishing it, my phone vibrated. A text from the hospital reminded me that I had an upcoming prenatal checkup.

This would most likely be my last one.

When I stepped outside, I saw the doorway piled high with packages.

Large and small, stacked neatly.

I glanced at them casually.

Cement, steel bars, timber.

At a glance, it was obvious they were materials for building an underground bunker for the so called apocalypse.

I suddenly felt like laughing.

He moved fast.

So fast that it made me suspect he had long been eager to build this so called love nest with Joyce.

I did not even dare imagine what a Peking University astronomy professor would look like, sleeves rolled up, hauling bricks and laying stones.

But not long after, I actually saw it.

Joyce posted another update, without the slightest restraint.

“Little bunker. Our home after finding our way back to each other.”

In the video, Chase looked nothing like the meticulous man I remembered, the one who would press every crease out of his shirts.

His face was smeared with dirt, his hair a mess, squatting inside a pit and digging.

As he dug, he spoke to her gently.

“Joyce, don’t be afraid.”

“When the world really ends in one month later, we won’t die either.”

In that moment, I finally understood what blinding pain meant.

Beside him, Felix struggled to pass him bricks.

Father and son, one squatting, one bent over, the scene absurd and ridiculous.

I watched and watched, and somehow started laughing.

But as I laughed, my face slowly grew wet.

So he really was willing.

For Joyce, he would give everything.

Even at the end of the world, he would still give her a home.

And I had nothing.

When I filled out the divorce agreement, it was not that I had never thought about it.

About taking every last bit of the modest income in the accounts and leaving him with nothing.

But after calming down, it felt unnecessary.

Aside from the title of Peking University astronomy professor, all Chase really had left was his self righteous pride and foul temper.

If I truly left him with nothing, he probably would not even be able to raise our son.

The car was provided by the university.

The furniture was secondhand.

The house was rented.

Back when our relationship was at its best, it was not that I had never suggested buying a home.

I had even planned it seriously.

Little by little, personally building a place that belonged to the three of us.

“I can pay in full.”

“The deed can have only your name on it.”

But he always thought I was joking.

He would even lecture me in that utterly natural tone of his.

“Don’t let yourself be tied down by worldly things.”

“A house is just a place to sleep. There’s no need to obsess over it.”

He never understood.

Money had never been a problem for me.

Across the capital’s elite circles, the properties my grandfather had arranged for me were so many that even I could not remember them all.

What I wanted was never a house.

What I wanted was a small home that had something to do with him.