Seven Years of Winter Before Spring

On the night of my wedding, my best friend's younger brother wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked me, “It’s a little big. Can you handle it?”

I stared at his perfectly defined abs, my mind going completely blank. “What?”

He repeated, “Can you handle it?”

My voice jumped an octave from my panic. “Aren't we supposed to take things slow? Isn’t this way too fast?”

That night, the sound-activated lights in the house flickered on and off until dawn.

Meanwhile, my ex-husband was squatting downstairs. His eyes were swollen red from crying, but I did not even spare him a thought.

Back then, when I agreed to let him proceed with a fake wedding with his childhood sweetheart, Miles Carter thought our cold war was over.

When he explained things to me, he said, “Vivian and I will only be married on paper. The ceremony is just to satisfy my mom. I swear, when this is over, we’ll live as a real couple.”

I remained silent. I just stared at the countdown on my phone, counting the days until I could finally leave. He did not know that the moment he tricked me into signing the divorce papers, our marriage had already ceased to exist.

After Miles Carter’s mother became bedridden and tore up their marriage certificate for the ninth time this year, Wendy Yanes felt utterly exhausted.

She looked down at the torn certificate in her hands. It was stained with the soup Belinda Howard had thrown earlier.

Every time Belinda lost her temper, their marriage certificate seemed to be the first she reached out for.

“What are you staring at?” Belinda leaned against the hospital bed. Her voice was sharp. “If it weren’t for you, would I even be lying here in this damn bed?”

Wendy quietly picked up the pieces from the floor. Her fingers were cut by the sharp edges of the paper.

She kept silent, merely brushing the soup stains from her white dress.

“Stop playing the victim!” Belinda grabbed the water cup from the bedside, ready to throw it. “Get out! Just seeing you annoys me!”

The cup whizzed past Wendy’s ear and smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces.

She slowly stepped out of the room, gently closed the door behind her, and leaned against the corridor wall, taking a deep breath.

The smell of disinfectant stung her nose, bringing back memories of countless nights spent in hospitals over the past two years.

She pulled out her phone and sent a message to Miles: [Honey, how about hiring a caregiver for Mother? She’s acting up again today…]

The message was marked as read, but no reply came.

Wendy stared at the screen for ten minutes before locking her phone’s screen. She decided to go to the civil affairs office to replace the torn marriage certificate.

The office was not crowded. Wendy handed the damaged certificate to the clerk, who examined it, checked the system, and frowned.

“Ms. Yanes, there are still seven days before your divorce is finalized. We can’t reissue your marriage certificate.”

“What divorce?” Wendy thought she had misheard.

The clerk turned the screen toward her. “The system shows your husband filed for divorce. It's currently being processed."

Wendy's fingers gripped the edge of the counter so tightly that her knuckles went white.

She suddenly remembered the papers Miles had handed her to sign a couple of weeks ago. He had said it was the hospital bill, and in her rush to care for Belinda, she did not even look before signing.

The clerk gave her a sympathetic look. “Do you want to cancel the divorce application?”

People in line behind her began whispering to each other, “Isn’t that the Carter family’s daughter-in-law? I heard she clings to Mr. Carter."

“Yeah, if it weren’t for her, his mother’s leg would still be treatable.”

Wendy lowered her gaze to the ring on her finger. Her heart was stabbing with pain.

“It’s okay. I can get the divorce certificate after seven days, right?” asked Wendy in a soft tone.

After receiving a confirming nod, Wendy left the civil affairs office as though she were fleeing. She stepped into the scorching sun but felt chilled to the bone.

She hailed a cab back to the hospital. While she was on her way back, Miles finally replied: [Busy at work, we’ll talk tonight.]

She opened the chat repeatedly, wanting to argue with him, but sent nothing.

The hospital corridor was eerily quiet. She reached her mother-in-law’s room and heard bursts of laughter from inside.

She gently pushed the door open just a crack, frozen at the scene before her.

Belinda was standing by the bed. She stood firmly on her own two feet, holding a fork and eating fruit.

Vivian Lowe sat nearby, peeling an apple, while Miles, the person who had claimed to be busy, was gently massaging Belinda's shoulders.

“That stunt of pretending to be paralyzed is absolutely brilliant,” Belinda said proudly, “That woman would never have guessed I could walk all along.”

“Belinda, please don’t say that,” Vivian replied coquettishly, “It hasn’t been easy for Wendy to take care of you.”

Belinda snorted, “She owes me! If she hadn’t stopped Miles from answering calls, would I have had to lie here in the hospital for so long?”

Wendy’s hands clutched the doorframe as she looked at Miles. His expression was complicated, but he made no attempt to argue with his mother.

“The divorce papers are already signed. Why hasn’t she left yet?” Belinda suddenly asked.

Miles replied in a low voice, “The process is still ongoing, and…”

“And what?” Belinda cut him off sharply, “You’re not still attached, are you? What has Wendy that Vivian doesn’t?”

“Mom!” Miles’s voice shot up. “I have my own considerations regarding the divorce. You just leave it be.”

Belinda waved dismissively. “Fine, fine. Do whatever you want. The marriage is over anyway. If she wants to be a free caregiver, let her.”

Wendy slowly stepped back. Tears blurred her vision.

So she was the last to know about her own divorce.

She turned around and left as laughter continued from the room.

Wendy stood by the window, pulled out her phone and dialed a long-forgotten number.

“Hey, it’s me.” Her voice was unusually calm. “Please help me get out of here. The sooner, the better.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You’ve really thought this through?”

“Yes.” Wendy watched the sycamore leaves sway gently in the wind outside the window. “It’s been two years. What I owe to that family should finally be settled.”

She hung up, glancing once at Belinda’s room.

The laughter continued, joyful and full of warmth. They were just like a happy family.

Yet Wendy had never truly belonged there.