I married and divorced the same man, Julian Astor, seven times.

The first time we married, he tattooed a pair of wings on my back, whispering in his low, husky voice, promising to carry me to eternity.

But when his first love, Chloe Sinclair, reappeared, Julian's tone soured. "Can't you just play along? Do you really have to make Chloe look like a homewrecker?"

The first time we divorced, I slit my wrists, hoping my blood could bind him to me. I was rushed to the emergency room, but he never once visited.

The third time we divorced, I gave up my art scholarship to Yale to become the design director at his startup, just to see him more often.

By the sixth time, I could calmly pack my bags and move out of our Boston penthouse on my own.

My hysteria, my groveling, my desperate obedience—it was all a part of his game. He’d remarry me on schedule, time and again, only to repeat the cycle of our ruin.

Until this time. After hearing Chloe was returning to Boston, I was the one who placed the divorce papers in front of him.

As always, he set a date for our remarriage, but he had no idea that this time, I was going to disappear completely.

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1

"Chloe Sinclair is back. Let's get a divorce."

My face a mask of indifference, I pushed the divorce papers I’d already signed across the table to my husband, Julian Astor.

His expression stiffened for a moment before he composed himself, signing his name on the document with practiced ease.

This was the first time I had initiated a divorce.

Yet, just as he had the six times before, he made a casual promise:

"After she leaves in a month, we'll get remarried at City Hall."

In the past, that single sentence would have sent me spiraling. I might have even forced him to swear on our matching tattoos or sign a written guarantee.

But this time, I felt nothing. I couldn't even be bothered to respond.

"Elara, are you listening to me?"

Julian’s frown deepened, his annoyance at my silence clear.

I had no choice but to nod. "Yes."

But my hands didn't stop, folding one haute couture gown after another and placing them into my suitcase.

When Julian said we would remarry, we would remarry.

In Boston's tech scene, his word was bond. There was no doubting that.

We were less a married couple than business partners, our contract periodically terminated and renewed with the signing of marriage and divorce papers.

We went through two such cycles a year. To date, I had signed twelve in total.

I still remembered what he told me at our first wedding: as long as our marriage lasted, he would never betray me.

And he did keep his word—after all, once we were divorced, he was free to be with whomever he pleased.

The price was that I became a laughingstock in Boston's high society, a plaything he could summon and dismiss at will.

My unusual behavior today seemed to unnerve Julian. After all, the memory of me losing control, even harming myself during our previous divorces, was still fresh in his mind.

He watched my movements, quicker and more practiced than the last time, his voice laced with displeasure.

"How about I move out this time..."

With a sharp click, I snapped the large Rimowa suitcase shut, cutting him off.

"I've already arranged it with Maya. I'll stay at her place for a few days."

A flicker of memory crossed Julian's face, and it instantly darkened.

"Don't go pulling any stunts, like pretending to be an intern to sneak into the company and spy on me."

He looked at me, his gaze sharp and dissecting. "Elara Vance, can't you have your own career? Can't you live without a man?"

I understood the subtext immediately—he just didn't want me disturbing him and Chloe at the office.

After all, Chloe's visits were rare, and Julian wanted her constantly by his side, inseparable.

After our second divorce, I joined his AI company as the design director. One day, I arrived at his office, his favorite coffee in hand, and pushed open the door, only to see him through the floor-to-ceiling window, kissing Chloe on a park bench below.

I lost control. I rushed down and lunged at Chloe, but Julian shoved me to the ground.

A crowd of onlookers gathered in the park. They all thought I was still Mrs. Astor, and their gazes at Chloe were filled with contempt.

To protect Chloe from criticism, Julian ignored my tearful pleas and snatched my Hermès handbag, emptying its contents onto the grass.

The divorce certificate lay on the grass like a public wound, announcing our split to the world.

From then on, every time Julian and I divorced, he would announce it on social media.

Everyone knew that Julian loved Chloe, and I was just the shameless woman who clung to him, refusing to leave.

Only this time, Julian's concern was misplaced.

I picked up my suitcase without a second thought. "Don't worry. I won't bother you two again."

Julian watched me suspiciously for a long moment. It wasn't until I had the doorknob in my hand, one foot already out the door, that he reminded me, a flicker of unease in his voice:

"We're remarrying on the 13th of next month. Don't forget."

My heart gave a little jolt.

What a coincidence.

My flight to New York was scheduled for the 13th.

After Chloe Sinclair returned, Julian, as expected, didn't contact me once.

And, in a complete break from my usual pattern, I was no longer the paranoid woman obsessively refreshing his social media or staking out every place he might be. My best friend, Maya Torres, and I began a blissful routine of champagne brunches and nightly bar-hopping.

The days bled into one another, and suddenly, only twenty remained until my flight to New York.

One day, while Maya and I were waiting for a table at a trendy new restaurant, we ran into Julian and Chloe.

Julian had his arm draped around Chloe's waist. They strolled in, laughing and talking, the very picture of a perfect couple.

"Elara?" Julian’s eyes found me instantly.

Chloe wrapped her arms affectionately around Julian's neck, a sweet smile playing on her lips. "Elara, what a coincidence. You're here for brunch too?"

Seeing my gaze fall on Chloe, Julian subconsciously took a step forward, shielding her behind him.

I knew he was afraid I would lunge at her like I had before.

But not only did I not move, I even held back Maya, who was already gearing up for a fight on my behalf.

I offered a nonchalant smile. "Yeah, what a coincidence."

Sensing my retreat, Chloe's smile grew even more triumphant.

"I'm so sorry, Elara, but Julian already booked the entire terrace for me. He promised he'd only dine with me, so you two might have to find another place."

She shook Julian's arm, cooing, "Isn't that right, Julian? You have to say something, or Elara will think I'm doing this on purpose."

When Julian met my calm gaze, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but he ultimately nodded at me.

He didn't say a word, but his silence cut deeper than any words could have.

Maya was rolling up her sleeves, but I gently pressed her arm down.

"It's fine. We'll go somewhere else."

Somewhere else. Somewhere without Julian.

With my departure for New York looming, I had no desire to waste another moment on pointless arguments with my ex-husband.

As a good ex should, I would treat Julian Astor as if he were already dead.

Sensing the tension, the restaurant manager hurried forward to fawn over Julian and Chloe. "You two are so in love. It's truly enviable."

Hearing this, Julian glanced at me with a complicated expression, as if he were both on guard and trying to figure me out.

But I acted as if I hadn't heard a thing, taking Maya's hand and rising to leave.

Julian hadn't expected this reaction. He stared at my retreating back, a thoughtful, almost confused expression on his face.

Chloe had to call his name several times, her tone already tinged with impatience, before he slowly tore his gaze away.

I had thought the chance encounter at the restaurant would be my last interaction with Julian before leaving Boston.

But on the very night I officially resigned from my position as design director at his company, I received a FaceTime call from him.

The call was so unprecedented I had to fight the urge to hang up, settling for answering with audio only.

"Why only audio?" his dissatisfied voice came through the phone.

I offered a flimsy excuse. "I'm not wearing any makeup."

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. It sounded as if I were still trying to please him.

Sure enough, Julian chuckled, his tone instantly brightening. "It's not like we haven't seen it all before."

His flirtatious tone made my skin crawl. I asked coldly, "Did you need something?"

He keenly sensed the distance in my voice and subconsciously sat up straighter. "HR told me you resigned?"

I hummed in agreement, not bothering to explain.

The line fell silent for a moment.

Julian spoke in a teasing tone, though it sounded more like he was just trying to fill the silence. "It's probably for the best. You could have been Mrs. Astor, but you insisted on being some design director. Weren't you just making things hard for yourself? Not that you were a very dedicated employee. I barely saw you at the office, but I still had to cut you a check every month. The whole company knew you only got the job because of me, that I was playing favorites."

I cut him off impatiently. "Don't you need to be with Chloe?"

Julian couldn't help but mumble, "There's nothing going on with her, so there's nothing to 'be with.'"

But then he fell silent, suddenly recalling that I was nothing more than his ex-wife.

A hint of guilt crept into his voice. "I'm sorry about the divorce. I was just afraid that if we didn't, people would attack Chloe online..."

I almost laughed. Right. Chloe's influencer career couldn't be jeopardized, so of course, I was the one who had to become the laughingstock of Boston.

"If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up."

"Wait!" Julian's tone was urgent. "The 12th is our anniversary. There's a Coldplay concert. I know you want to go. Let's go together, okay?"

For a split second, I almost told him the truth.

But before I could speak, Chloe's coquettish voice drifted from the other end of the line. "Julian, my zipper is stuck. Can you help me?"

Julian didn't respond immediately. He stared at my name on his phone screen, looking torn.

"Go on," I urged, my voice flat.

Only then did he slowly get up, but he didn't hang up. "Elara, wait for me. I'll be right back."

With that, he walked toward the closet.

As expected, I heard the distinct sound of a kiss, followed by a muffled groan from Julian, and then the bedroom door was slammed shut.

A mocking smile touched my lips as I hung up.

Just then, Maya called, excitedly asking me to go out to a bar.

Without a second thought, I put down my phone, stood up, and linked my arm through hers.

There were so many other things in the world that could bring me joy. For years, I had been blinded by my own obsession. Why should I waste another ounce of energy on a man who was already in my past?