I was taken aback. "Uncle Vincent?"

Vincent's messages came pouring in on WhatsApp.

[Scarlett, I heard from Leo that the bracelet my sister left you is broken.]

[What happened?]

Vincent and Leo, the craftsman who fixed the bracelet, were old acquaintances.

My throat tightened. [I'm so sorry, Uncle Vincent. I didn't take care of Mom's keepsake...]

I shared my decision to divorce Oliver with Vincent.

[If that's how it is, there's no reason for you to stay with him.]

[Scarlett, why don't you come live with me in France? Your aunt and I miss you a lot.]

France?

The idea had never crossed my mind.

But after hearing Oliver's words earlier, a light bulb went off in my head.

I typed: [Okay.]

I thought to myself, "He said I had grown bolder.

Maybe I could have a good life without him."

Just as I was wrapping up the conversation with Vincent, I heard footsteps in the hallway. I quickly deleted our chat history.

Oliver was back.

The air was thick with the lingering smell of Cioppino, a fishy scent that assaulted my senses.

Oliver said, handing me a takeout bag, "Here you go. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I just grabbed something.

"Lillian said this Cioppino was really good, and there's milkshake too..."

I shot up from my seat.

"Didn't I tell you not to bring me anything?"

Oliver ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. "What do you want me to get if you won't say? You're being difficult for no reason.

"If I came back empty-handed, you'd be upset anyway!"

He thought he understood me so well.

I couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. "Oliver, do you seriously not know I'm allergic to seafood?

"I already told you I don't like it! Why did you buy it anyway?"

He was clearly taken aback. "You should've said something sooner..."

"Which of my words do you actually listen to?!" All the pent-up frustration exploded out of me, and my shout only escalated his anger.

He shouted, "I was just trying to do something nice for you! If you don't want it, fine! Don't eat it, but why throw a fit?

"It's just forgetting my allergy! You act like it's no big deal! Why are you yelling at me?"

He angrily grabbed the takeout and tossed it into the trash.

"Fine! If you don't want it, then don't eat it!"

With that, Oliver stormed out, slamming the door behind him with such force that it made my heart race.

I collapsed onto the couch, shaking as tears streamed down my face.

I had never been the one truly loved; I was just an afterthought in his life.

Oliver didn't come home that night, and I was used to it by now.

I woke up groggily, only to find his jacket still draped over the chair.

The scent of his cologne made me feel nauseous. I absentmindedly rifled through the pockets and found a sachet tucked inside.

It smelled just like the sweet, cloying fragrance Lillian wore.

The stitching on the sachet was crooked, and the scent had faded, suggesting it had been in the pocket for a while.

I remembered when these sachets were all the rage—hand-sewing one for one's loved one was the trend back then.

I had poured my heart into making one for him, filling it with my favorite lemongrass scent.

But when I had given it to Oliver, he had wrinkled his nose and tossed it aside.

"It's ugly and smells bad. Don't give me this stuff again," Oliver had said.

That day, I had cried for a long time, nursing my pricked fingers from the countless times the needle had jabbed me.

But now, it didn't matter anymore.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door to find Lillian's bright, cheerful face smiling back at me.

Lillian beamed at me, saying, "Scarlett, I'm here to help Mr. Pettyfer with his jacket.

"So, how was the cioppino and milkshake last night? Did you like them?"

The satisfaction in Lillian's smile was blatant. I turned to hand her the jacket, my expression blank, but my gaze caught the dark hickey on her neck.

Paired with her overly shy grin, it was both beautiful and tempting.

Clearly, things had heated up between them last night.

"Not great," I replied, putting on a disinterested facade.

"Really? I thought it was quite tasty!" Lillian chimed, twirling on her heels to leave.

Then, as if something had clicked, she turned back to remind me, "Mr. Pettyfer wants you to cook for him later. He said he's craving beef stew; make sure the beef is tender."

"Got it."

With a satisfied nod, she left.

I shut the door and returned to my room, starting to pack up my things.

Agreeing to cook was one thing; whether I would actually pull it off was another story altogether.

When Oliver walked in, I was busy packing my bags.

"The court doesn't open until tomorrow. You can put on your show then," Oliver teased, glancing at my phone on the table, reaching for it as if to unlock it.

"Did you change your passcode?"

I had switched it from his birthday to mine, and now he couldn't get in.

"Yep."

He chuckled dismissively, thinking I was just being petty, and turned to head to the kitchen.

Then, his voice came from the kitchen. "Scarlett, didn't I ask Lillian to tell you to make beef stew?

"I'm starving. If you're not cooking, what do you expect me to do?"

I didn't even look up. "Order takeout!"

His frustration was palpable. "Scarlett! You know I can't eat that junk from outside! I was trying to have a decent conversation, but you keep this up! Who are you trying to annoy?"

I zipped up my backpack and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Why should I do what you say? Besides, you seemed to enjoy that street food last night."

His expression froze. "I was just accompanying her..."

"Whatever. I don't want to know," I said, turning to leave.

He blocked my path, pulling a gift box from his coat.

"This is something Lillian insisted on giving you. I hope you'll accept it."

"Why didn't she come to apologize in person?"

Oliver snapped, "She's already making amends, and you're still nitpicking?"

I pressed my lips together and opened the box.

Inside was a cheap plastic bracelet.

Without a second thought, I tossed it into the trash.

His eyes blazed with anger.

"That's Lillian's heartfelt gesture! Do you really have to treat it like this? Scarlett, can you stop being so unforgiving?"

I smiled, "If you like it so much, feel free to dig it out of the trash. After all, it's her 'heartfelt gesture.'"

To my surprise, Oliver actually retrieved the plastic bracelet from the garbage, his expression a mix of hurt and disbelief.

My breath caught in my throat.

He had never cared about anything I gave him.

"No matter how many bracelets you want, I can get you that. I can get you one that's a hundred times more expensive than the one your mother gave you," Oliver said defiantly.

I shook my head. "I don't want anything.

"I just want the original bracelet.

"The one my mom gave me."

He said in frustration, shutting his eyes, "Can you let it go already? It's broken.

"No amount of crying and complaining will bring it back."

His words struck hard.

I retorted, "Is it just the bracelet I care about?"

I had wanted to say more, but my throat felt stuffed, and nothing came out.

I lowered my head and quickly finished packing.

"See you at the court tomorrow," I said quietly.

Oliver scoffed, saying, "If you want to make a scene, go ahead. Do what you want!"

I moved out of the home I had shared with him for seven years.

I found a hotel nearby and started working on my visa.

Vincent was thrilled to hear about my decision to come.

He had asked before, but I couldn't bear the thought of Oliver struggling alone in Chicago, so I had put it off.

The man I had loved for seven years was slowly unraveling before my eyes.

As I looked back on everything Oliver had done, it was clear he was just testing my obedience to him.

Countless instances of emotional coldness had drained my passion, and I had learned to lower my expectations of life with him.

As I traced the broken edge of the bracelet, I thought this might be the last time Miranda was protecting me.

The next day, Oliver and I walked out of the courthouse in silence, the divorce certificate feeling cold and weightless in my hands.

He squeezed the document, glancing at me lazily.

"Now you've got no room to backtrack. Don't expect me to back down."

I nodded. "I don't need it."

As he saw my unwavering composure, Oliver's eyes revealed a flicker of pity.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. If you genuinely want to get back together, just apologize to Lillian."

I replied indifferently, "Not necessary."

He sighed, "Scarlett, why can't you just swallow your pride?

"You've already caved in so many times—what's one more?

"Remember that Europe trip you always wanted to take? Just say a few nice words, and we can get back together in no time.

"If you insist on dragging this out, I'll just go to Europe with Lillian instead."

I suddenly laughed. "Sure, go ahead and take her. I couldn't care less."