Growing up as an orphan, I often spent my days painting in the yard of the orphanage, dreaming of a life far beyond the walls that confined me.

I longed for someone who might see my potential, adopt me, and help me pursue my passion for art. My greatest dream was to become a famous painter and open my own studio, a place where my creations could flourish.

Then, after graduating high school, A woman offered me a rare chance. They would fund my studies at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), one of the finest art schools in the US.

However, there was only one condition. I would need to marry their son, Gale, who was five years older than me and heartbroken after his longtime girlfriend had left him to move to Paris.

I hesitated at first. After all, I was only eighteen, and Gale was twenty-three. “But does Gale…does he know about this?” I asked.

“Yes, and he has agreed,” she replied, her gaze softening.

As a result, I accepted, partly out of gratitude and partly out of duty. Her mother had shown me a kindness I had never known, and I wanted to repay her.

Gale and I entered the marriage more like acquaintances than lovers, but I held out hope that, over time, we might grow close.

During college, I tried to carry my own weight too, by earning scholarships, selling my paintings online, and doing my best not to burden Gale financially.

But Gale treated me like an inconvenience. Cold and indifferent, he barely acknowledged my efforts, regarding me as though I was an unwanted guest in his life.

On our wedding day, he refused even to kiss me, turning away the moment the ceremony was over.

The rare times Gale came to my room were on nights he was drunk, and those encounters were never out of affection; rather than calling it love, it felt like a violation, a reminder that I was tolerated, not cherished.

One night, he stumbled into my room, his eyes glazed from drinking. I tensed, already sensing what was about to happen.

“Rachel,” he slurred, leaning against the doorframe, “Why don’t you ever come to my room?”

“You never asked me to,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “And it’s not like you wanted this marriage any more than I did.”

He scoffed, crossing the room unsteadily and grabbing my arm. “You’re just here because of my mother. Without her, you’re nothing.” The words stung, even though I had heard them many times before.

“Yes, Gale,” I whispered, as his grip tightened. “I know.”

The years passed, and I endured it all out of loyalty to her mother, who had been my only source of kindness and support. I even turned down an offer to study abroad, fearing that leaving would disappoint her.

But no matter what I did, I could never fill the place in Gale’s heart that had always belonged to Lilian, his ex-girlfriend. I was nothing more than a substitute, a shadow of the person she truly loved.

So, that night, after arguing with Gale, I felt a quiet resolve settle in me.

My professor’s words echoed in my mind. “The scholarship is yours if you want it. Italy is waiting for you, Rachel.”

It was more than an opportunity; it was a lifeline. The chance to study in Italy felt like a door finally opening after years of being locked away.

That was why I had decided to walk through it, to leave behind everything that had held me back.

**

The next morning, as I joined Gale for breakfast, he barely acknowledged me, his attention glued to his phone. The events of the previous night seemed to have slipped his mind entirely.

I cleared my throat, determined to press on, to speak the truth that had been aching in me for so long.

“Gale,” I began, trying to keep my tone light, “what would you think if I did a master’s degree in Italy?”

He did not look up, just waved a hand as if dismissing a minor detail. “It’s up to you,” he mumbled, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to continue. “And since I’ll be there for a while,” I said, careful to keep my voice steady, “what about a divorce?”

This time, I thought he would stop, maybe look at me, ask for an explanation. But instead, his response was the same casual indifference.

“No problem,” he muttered, still scrolling, completely unfazed.

A strange mix of relief and sorrow washed over me. There it was, all the proof I needed that I had been nothing more than a fixture in his life, something he would not miss once it was gone.

Gale had not even noticed that I had stopped preparing his clothes, or his water bath, since I had gradually handed those responsibilities to the maids.

Everything he once demanded of me had slipped away, and he had not blinked.

“Okay then,” I said, pushing back my chair and standing. I looked down at my untouched breakfast, realizing I had no appetite left.

As I rose, my eyes drifted to his phone, where a message thread glowed on the screen. The contact name, ‘My Lily,’ was unmistakable.

Gale was chatting with Lilian, her name in his phone a reminder of everything I could never be to him. His world, his devotion, his heart, those were all reserved for her.

Then suddenly a call came to his phone, it was from Lilian. After listening to her, he directly answered, fully aware, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. ‘So, this is what it feels like, to finally know where you stand,’ I thought.

After breakfast, I made my way to campus for my graduation ceremony, my emotions swirling between pride and a quiet sense of sorrow.

That day marked the end of my years at the Rhode Island School of Design, a journey I had poured my heart into. Soon, I would be leaving for Italy to pursue my dreams.

But as I stood there, diploma in hand, surrounded by a crowd of graduates celebrating with their families, the familiar ache of loneliness crept in.

All around me, parents hugged their children, some took a photo with their loved one, and laughter filled the air. It was a day designed to be shared, yet there I was, alone in a sea of love and celebration.

I tried to shake it off, telling myself it should not matter, that I had grown used to that feeling long ago. But it still hurt, the absence of someone who should have been by my side, especially that day.

"Well, this is how it usually is, so no need to be sad that Gale didn't come, Rachel," I murmured to myself, forcing a smile as I took a steadying breath.

It was just another day alone, after all.

Fortunately, that day my professor came to congratulate me. He was delighted to hear I had accepted his scholarship offer and treated me to lunch as a warm congratulations.

“Italy’s going to be a revelation for you, Rachel,” he said with a beaming smile. “I can’t wait to see the artist you become.”

“Thank you, Prof,” I answered with a smile on my face.

His words really filled me with hope, but as I left campus and made my way home, a shadow of doubt crept in.

I found myself gazing out of the car window as we passed by the courthouse, the building looming large in my mind.

The idea of divorce hung over me, and I almost asked the driver to stop. But then I thought of Gale’s mother. How would she feel if I went through with it?

With a sigh, I decided against it for that moment.

As if by fate, my phone buzzed, and her name flashed on the screen.

“Rachel, dear!” She greeted me warmly. “Congratulations on your graduation. How about we go shopping together to celebrate?”

“It seems nice.”

I asked the driver to change course, heading back to the manor to pick her up. When I saw her standing there, a soft warmth replaced my anger toward Gale.

Despite everything, his mother had always treated me with kindness. Somehow, being with her felt like I still had a family.

We spent hours browsing through the shops, chatting like old friends, and she made sure I did not leave empty-handed.

As she inspected a designer bag, I idly scrolled through my phone, checking messages, and then a notification caught my eye.

It was a post from Lilian, she was at New York Fashion Week. And standing beside her, beaming, was Gale, their arms linked as they posed like a couple.

The caption read, [So happy to be here again this year, especially with someone you love.]

My heart clenched painfully. So, that was why he could not come to my graduation?

My grip on my phone tightened as Gale’s mother turned to me, noticing my tension. “Rachel, dear, is everything alright?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

I forced a smile, swallowing my disappointment. “Yes, I’m fine. Have you found what you like, Mom?”

“Yeah, I bought it for you too. I hope you like it,” she said with a warm smile while handing a shopping bag to me.

I directly answered, “Of course, I like it. Thank you for everything.”

Returning home, the manor felt emptier than ever. Gale did not come back that night, or the next few. I tried to distract myself, but a nagging feeling kept me on edge.

A few days later, I saw another post from Lilian. She was in Paris for Fashion Week.

Once again, Gale was right beside her, looking at her with pride and adoration. The more I looked, the more my stomach twisted.

Curiosity getting the best of me, I clicked through Lilian’s stories, each photo stoking the fire of my frustration.

One picture showed Gale with Lilian at her parents’ home, celebrating her birthday. In the next, he was kissing her cheek, his arm wrapped protectively around her.

“Why don’t you two just move in together already,” I muttered bitterly, feeling a stab of anger I had not felt before.

The thought gnawed at me, and finally, I could not hold back any longer.

My heart raced as I threw my phone aside, gathered my things, and told the driver to take me to the courthouse. That time, I would not hesitate.

I entered the courthouse and signed the divorce papers, my signature firm and resolute.

No more wondering, no more waiting. I was taking back control of my life.

**

A few days later, Gale returned from Paris.

That evening, I prepared dinner for us, the first time we had eaten together in weeks. I was calm, focused, the divorce papers neatly folded beside my plate.

As he took his seat, I handed the documents across the table.

As Gale saw the file, without a hint of reaction, he pushed the papers back toward me. “Put it in my study. I’ll review it later.”

Stunned by his dismissiveness, I struggled to keep my composure. “You’re not even going to look at them?” I asked, unable to mask the disappointment in my voice.

After everything, that was his response?

Gale sighed, reaching for his phone. “Rachel, can we not do this now? I just got back. I’m tired.”

“Gale,” I pressed, my voice trembling, “do you even care? You haven’t noticed anything, have you? I stopped waiting on you, I stopped being the obedient wife. You barely noticed I was even gone.”

“Look,” he said with a careless wave of his hand, “just because you’re throwing a tantrum doesn’t mean I need to jump every time. Now if you’re done, please let me have a peaceful dinner.”

For a long moment, I stared at him. In his indifference, I found my answer.

I stood up, clutching the papers to my chest, and finally felt the strength to let go.

“Alright, Gale,” I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “I’ll leave them in your study. But this time, I’m truly done waiting for you.”

I turned and walked away, the papers in hand.

As I placed the divorce papers on his desk, my gaze drifted to a stack of receipts and statements lying in a scattered pile.

My heart sank as I scanned through them. The list of his expenses for the month since Lilian returned was exorbitant, a full fifth higher than usual.

Each item stung more than the last. Among the charges was a new penthouse purchase. I knew immediately who it was for.

On impulse, I grabbed a sticky note from his desk and scrawled a short message, “Make sure you sign it!”

I started packing early, sorting through years of memories and belongings with a newfound clarity.

Gale and I might have had separate rooms, but we shared the same closet, one I had once carefully stocked with his clothes, his accessories, his everything.

It had been my routine, preparing his things every morning, a way to keep the peace in our detached marriage. However, it was time to let go.

As I folded my own clothes, I noticed the gifts I had given Gale over the years for his birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays.

Each one was untouched, still wrapped and stashed away as if they were meaningless trinkets.

My heart ached at the sight. I had poured thought and care into each gift, hoping in vain that they would show him how much I had once tried to be a loving wife.

I directly gathered them up and placed them in the donation pile. They would go to someone who might actually appreciate them.

Alongside them, I left behind anything Gale had bought for me. Jewelry, designer clothes, anything he had given as a token to keep me quiet in his life, they all stayed.

I only packed the things I had bought with my own money, earned from the small but steady sales of my paintings.

Once my donation box was ready, I loaded it into my car and headed to the orphanage where I had grown up.

Stopping at a supermarket on the way, I picked up some snacks for the children. I might be leaving soon, but they were still a part of my heart.

As I entered the orphanage, the woman who had raised me with endless patience and kindness, the one I called ‘Mother,’ greeted me with open arms.

We settled in a quiet corner, chatting like mother and daughter.

After a while, I took a deep breath and shared my plans with her.

“I’m going to Italy for further studies,” I told her, a small smile on my face. Her eyes lit up, and she clasped my hands in hers.

“Oh, Rachel! I knew you were meant for great things,” she said warmly. “You deserve every bit of happiness coming your way.”

Her words were like balm on a wound, giving me the strength to share the next piece of news. “I’m also… I’m divorcing Gale.”

For a moment, her face fell, and she looked at me with concern. She knew how close I was to Gale’s mother, and perhaps she had once hoped our marriage could bring me the family I had never had.

But as I explained my reasons, her expression softened, and she nodded with understanding.

“Sometimes, letting go is the bravest thing we can do,” she murmured, patting my hand. “You have to follow your own path, Rachel.”

I nodded and hugged her, “Thank you.”

As evening fell, I drove back home, taking my time along the quiet roads.

It was our usual dinner hour, but tonight, I felt no urgency to rush back, no pressure to make it on time.

In the past, I would have pushed the speed limit just to ensure I arrived before dinner began, knowing how Gale would react if I were late. He had always been strict about it, insisting we share breakfast and dinner every day.

It had puzzled me for years. Why did he care so much about these shared meals when there was no real relationship between us?

Sometimes, I wondered if it was all for show, a way for him to prove to the household staff that we were a ‘normal’ couple.

But we slept in separate rooms, lived separate lives. So, why should we act like a couple then?

Even until that time, I still thought that it was the weird routine Gale always forced me.

To my surprise, when I walked into the manor, I was greeted by an unexpected scene in the living room. Gale’s younger sister, Gritte, and Lilian were there, surrounded by shopping bags branded with luxury logos.

Gritte glanced up, her expression haughty as ever. “Oh, you’re finally home, Rachel. Why so late? We’re hungry because the chef could not come today, so go cook for us.”

Her words stung, each one a reminder of the thankless role I had played in their lives. I glanced at Lilian, who avoided meeting my gaze, choosing instead to fuss with a new handbag.

At that moment, Gale appeared from the hallway, seemingly out of nowhere, and announced, “No need to fuss about cooking tonight. Let’s just have dinner outside.”

His gaze quickly shifted to Lilian, his tone softening. “What do you feel like eating, Lily?”

Lilian’s face lit up with excitement, her eyes shining as she wrapped her hand around his arm. “I want steak! Can we go to our favorite place? The one we used to go to in college?”

Gale nodded without hesitation and grabbed his car keys. Watching them so comfortable and at ease together, I tried to slip away, hoping to avoid joining this little reunion of theirs.

But Gale caught my movement and turned to me. “Come with us. You must be hungry too.”

I hesitated, keeping my voice steady. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

“That wasn’t a question, Rachel.” His face turned a shade darker, his voice laced with irritation.

I sighed, feeling the weight of his gaze on me, and reluctantly agreed. “Fine.”

In the car, Lilian and Gale sat in the front seats, laughing and reminiscing, while I was relegated to the back with Gritte. She sat as far away as possible, treating me like an unwelcome stranger.

Gritte and Lilian chatted, exchanging stories and laughter, while I stayed silent, my gaze fixed out the window as the city lights blurred by.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I felt a wave of bitter familiarity.

That was the same steakhouse Gale had taken me to countless times, never once mentioning that it had once been his and Lilian's place.

It turned out, everything I had thought was ‘us’ had never truly been about us at all.