When Lionel got home, it was already eight.

He had brought Iris takeout, a spicy beef stew.

Iris glanced at it. "I already ate dinner. I'm not hungry."

Lionel paused.

"Then just leave it. You can eat it later." He sat down beside her and took her hand. "Honey, I've got to go to Hiddersville tomorrow. I'll probably be gone about five days…"

Iris smiled and answered without hesitation, "Okay. I'll wait for you to come back."

Lionel froze, a faint frown forming. "You're not going to ask what it's for?"

"What's there to ask? It's not like I don't trust you."

He studied her for a long time, guilt flickering in his eyes. He pulled her into his arms. "Don't worry. Once I'm back from this, I'll spend more time with you."

The corner of Iris's lips lifted into a faint, mocking curve.

There was no need. She would be gone in three days.

When she first decided to leave, she had felt reluctant and sad. After all, she had lived here for six years and built so many memories.

But now, her chest felt light, as if she was about to shed her skin and start over.

She was even grateful that the exit process took 15 days. It had given her time to wake up completely, so she wouldn't have to struggle through any kind of emotional withdrawal once she returned to her original world.

The next morning, after Lionel finished packing, he left. Before going, he reminded Iris not to wander around, to stay safe, and to wait for him at home.

After he was gone, Iris dealt with everything she had sorted out earlier. She dealt with the things that needed to be thrown away, burned, and donated.

When it was all done, the home they had lived in for three years suddenly felt empty, the traces of the past fading until they were barely there.

Iris was satisfied.

She even found herself looking forward to Lionel's reaction when he came back to see this place, even though she wouldn't be there to witness it.

On the day she was meant to leave this world, Iris woke up early.

The system reminded her, [Attention, Iris. The exit location is Whalers' Bay. The channel will open at 12 p.m. Do not be late.]

Hearing that it was Whalers' Bay surprised her for a moment.

But remembering that she had first arrived in this world there, her heart settled instead.

It was a fitting end.

She took the divorce agreement out of the car and placed it on the most visible spot in the living room, on the coffee table. Then, she drove toward Whalers' Bay.

Halfway there, her phone vibrated. The screen lit up with a new friend request.

Iris had a feeling and accepted it.

Sure enough, the next second, the other side sent a photo.

Lionel was shirtless, asleep on a hotel bed. Pamela was curled in his arms, smiling brightly at the camera.

[You probably heard what Lionel and I were doing outside the recording studio that day, right? I'm pregnant with his baby. He's mine. Did he tell you he was going to Hiddersville for work? He's actually traveling with me. You can see it yourself. He loves me, and you're the one who's going to be abandoned.]

Pamela followed that with several more photos of the two of them sightseeing together.

Iris smiled as she looked at the screen, like she was watching a clown perform.

[Cool. I guess congratulations are in order.]

Before Pamela could reply, Iris blocked her and saved a screen recording of the entire conversation.

When Iris arrived at Whalers' Bay, it was 11:53 a.m.

Holding up her phone, she took a photo of herself with the Whalers' Bay shoreline behind her.

In the picture, she was flashing a peace sign, her smile calm and relieved.

She sent the photo, along with the screen recording of the messages and the audio recording from the recording studio, straight to Lionel.

Alongside them, a final line.

[Goodbye, Lionel. This time, for good.]

Then, she blocked every single way he had to contact her.

She sat down on the beach, glanced at the endlessly surging waves of Whalers' Bay, and gently closed her eyes.

As the system's countdown echoed in her head from ten down to one, she suddenly felt herself sink into a hazy, formless void.