I smiled bitterly.

Ironically, the married life with Gideon was not happy at all.

Before surgery, I saw them coming up, hand in hand.

"How are you doing?" he asked with a frown. "Can't you even drive right? Good thing Vesper is fine."

She pouted. "I shouldn't have asked her to drive in the first place."

Gideon hugged her, cooing, "It's not your fault. You got hurt too. Let's grab some food."

The doctor came up, saying the operating room was ready.

Gideon glanced at me, surprised, but Vesper's whimper stole his focus.

Luckily, the surgery went fine.

A nurse asked if I had called my family. I paused, replying, "I've got none."

...

I hired a nursing worker to look after me in the hospital.

Gideon had fun with Vesper every day, never visiting me. She sent me pictures of them going to beaches, snorkeling, stargazing, and kissing.

I felt nothing, busy planning a biotech startup with my friend, Maren Holt.

For years, I'd done product research on the side.

At first, when Maren approached me with the proposal, I declined.

She said I'd wasted eight years on a contract. It wasn't worth it, but I didn't regret it. My mother was everything to me back then.

Now the contract was over, and I was free.

"When are you back? The house is a mess," Gideon complained over the phone.

"The maids aren't doing their job?" I sneered.

"You know I hate people touching my stuff. And I need you for company files," he sulked.

I checked the time, about to respond when a nurse came up with the medical bills. Gideon heard it, urging me to go home as soon as possible.

Ignoring him, I paid the bills and left with Maren.

When she asked if I felt free, I smiled, "It's over. Once he signs the divorce agreement, I'm out."

Maren was thrilled. "Let's get it done and hit a chorizo slider truck."

As we discussed the details of the startup, Gideon called again. I glanced at his name on the screen and flipped my phone over.

Maren lifted her chin. "Really done with him?"

She knew how much I had cared for him, but his constant hurt killed that.

I shrugged. "Some people just don't belong in the same world."

Maren nodded, totally agreeing with it.

After finalizing the business plan, we went to our favorite slider spot.

The first bite of spicy chorizo brought tears. Maren teased me if it was that good. I smiled without replying.

Since meeting Gideon, I had avoided bold flavors like this.

Gideon said chorizo smells shamed the Strathmore name, and I wasn't allowed to laugh or talk loudly in public.

For eight years, I was his emotionless puppet.

Now freedom's scent hit, and my eyes stung.

When I got home at ten, Gideon was sitting in the living room with a sullen expression. He had called a dozen times, but I had answered none.

"Where have you been?" he asked sternly.

I changed my shoes and washed my hands before answering coolly, "Ate with a friend."

He stepped closer, smelled the sliders, and immediately covered his nose.

"I told you not to have sliders. You stink," he complained.

"Vesper eats them, and it's fine?" I shot back.

His disgust grew. "You're not her. Besides, she's an outsider."

I didn't argue further, aware of his prejudice toward me.

It was fine. Soon enough, I'd be an outsider too.

...

Maren flew abroad the next day for business, while I had a lawyer draft the divorce agreement that stated my leave with nothing.

I skimmed through it and signed it without hesitation.

Vesper sent a video that showed a fancy hall. A sign there read, "Welcome to Gideon Strathmore and Vesper Quinn's Engagement Party."

Gideon was directing the manager to make arrangements.

Vesper: [I mentioned engagement, and he planned this, ignoring what others think. It's happening in two days. You're welcome to attend it."

In two days, it would be my 30th birthday. On the same day, I would leave for good.

I blocked her number and scanned my tiny room. In the past eight years, I hadn't bought anything for myself. Just like how I had come, I was leaving with one suitcase.

I packed up and set it aside.

Gideon barged in and demanded, "Make me some oyster bisque."

His entitled tone was annoying, but I didn't refuse. It was the last time anyway.

When I served the bisque, he stared at me. "Why are you so quiet lately?"

I used to chatter nonstop even if he ignored me.

I shrugged. "My throat is sore. Don't wanna talk."

He snorted and left with the packed bisque, not returning until the engagement day.

I placed that contract and the divorce agreement on the table. Suitcase in hand, I glanced at the house one last time and headed to the airport.

Before boarding, Gideon called.

I rejected it, tossed the SIM in the trash, and moved on to my future.