Three days later, my social media feed was flooded with posts from my mother-in-law’s entire family. Giselle and that man had held their wedding ceremony.

Honestly, it was almost the most extravagant wedding banquet I’d ever seen. But when I saw Martin’s social media post, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

The man had hired actors to pretend to be his parents. My mother-in-law couldn’t stop smiling at her “elegant” in-laws.

Just as I was engrossed in the scene, Martin called me. His voice boasted arrogantly on the other end.

“Helena, you can still back out now. Let me tell you, Giselle has really snagged a rich husband for our Galgani Family this time! My brother-in-law just said he’d introduce me to a beautiful college student as a girlfriend.”

I replied to him, “Martin, you should take a good look at yourself. The cleaning lady at my office mistook you for the new security guard the other day! Forget college students, even the cleaning lady wouldn’t give you the time of day!”

Martin’s composure shattered instantly on the other end. “Helena! You—”

“Get lost! Stop trying to disgust me every chance you get!”

Before Martin could finish, I hung up. This time, his rage would probably last until we got the divorce papers.

My mother, who was cooking in the kitchen, came out after hearing the noise. Her gaze toward me held a hint of worry.

“Helena, did you and Martin have a fight?”

“Mom, Martin and I are divorced .”

I expected my mom to tear up again, but instead, she sighed with relief and smiled.

“Helena, I was so worried you were being mistreated. It’s so good that you’re willing to get a divorce. Martin has become more and more unreliable over the years. A grown man like him still relies on you to support the family. It’s good that you’re divorced.”

Watching her back as she cooked, I fell deep in thought. In my past life, my mother had also hinted at problems in my marriage to Martin.

She believed a man unwilling to take responsibility must have a problem. But Martin was my first love. I clung to the memory of our early happiness, refusing to let go.

That stubbornness led to disaster. But this time, it won’t happen again.

Martin never contacted me again, but his social media feed updated incessantly with the captions:

[I bought a ten-thousand-dollars belt.]

[Parked his sports car outside the university to pick up girls.]

[Went to the movies with girls.]

[Stayed in three thousand dollar a night hotels.]

On the day I went to the Office of Vital Records to get my divorce certificate, I saw my mother-in-law’s entire family dressed to the nines. She wore a gold lock bigger than a bicycle lock and looked at me with utter contempt.

“Divorce my son Martin? You’re just a poor girl with no luck in life. Mark my words, you’ll regret this decision later!”

Martin deliberately locked the sports car in front of me, then shot me a few mocking laughs.

“Helena, I used to think I acted impulsively back then. Now I wish I’d divorced you sooner! Let me tell you, girls are throwing themselves at me in droves!”

I stared blankly at the car behind him. That car looked so much like the one I reported stolen to the police station a few days ago.

“What are you staring at? Regretting divorcing me? Let me tell you that...”

“Cut the crap, Martin. Hurry up and get it done!”

I cut him off and walked toward the lobby. If my feelings were right, something bad was about to happen. I had to get this divorce over with before it did.

Thank God, the usually packed divorce window was nearly empty today. Just as the clerk was about to stamp the documents, Martin’s phone rang urgently.

He glanced at the caller ID and smiled at his mother. “Mom, it’s Giselle. Probably celebrating my divorce today!”

I frantically signalled the clerk to hurry up. In the blink of an eye, Martin had answered the call.

But before he could speak, a deafening wail erupted from the other end. “Martin, hurry and send my sister-in-law to save me! Something’s wrong!”

“That bastard is a fraud! Quickly! Get my sister-in-law to bring her people right now.”

Amidst the wailing, Martin and I rushed toward the window. “Stamp it now!”

“Don’t stamp it! I refuse to divorce my wife!”

Martin and I shouted in unison. My anxious gaze darted toward the staff member, landing on the steel seal, uncertain whether it had been stamped or not.