Chapter 2

"I understand." I nodded and walked toward the bedroom. "Nine o'clock tomorrow. I'll be there on time."

I closed the door and slid down against it, my hand pressed hard over my mouth to keep the sobs from escaping.

Outside, I heard Matthew's footsteps leaving. He didn't go to the guest room. He headed straight for the entrance.

The door opened, then closed. Everything fell silent again, as if he'd never been here.

At four in the morning, my phone buzzed.

This time it wasn't Matthew. It was a payment notice from the hospital.

My mother's next round of treatment: eight hundred thousand dollars.

I stared at those numbers and suddenly laughed. As I laughed, tears poured down my face.

This was my marriage.

What I thought was salvation was just another cage.

I'd sold myself. The money saved my mother's life, but I'd given away my heart.

Outside the window, the sky gradually brightened. The rain had stopped, and the city was waking from the night.

I got up and looked at myself in the mirror, eyes red and swollen, and started packing.

I took out our marriage certificate and the wedding ring from the nightstand.

It was just something Matthew had grabbed at the counter on our wedding day. It didn't even fit properly.

When I put the ring on, Matthew had said, "Just wear this for now. I'll get you a better one later."

A year had passed. Matthew never bought me another ring. That "later" never came.

I arrived at City Hall half an hour early. I hadn't bothered to dress up, just a bit of lipstick.

Matthew was right on time.

The moment he got out of the car, I saw him in a charcoal gray custom suit that made him look tall and sharp.

"Did you bring your passport?"

He asked, his eyes sweeping over the suitcase at my feet. He couldn't help but frown.

I nodded and pulled out my documents and the ring.

My wedding band was plain and simple, giving off a dull gleam in the morning light.

But Matthew's custom platinum ring had "M&S" engraved inside. It was supposedly meant for proposing to Sarah, but ended up on my finger instead.

The clerk asked routinely, "Do both parties consent to this divorce?"

"Yes," Matthew answered without hesitation, his voice calm and steady.

I opened my mouth but couldn't make a sound.

"Ma'am?" The clerk looked up at me with professional sympathy in her eyes.

"Yes," I forced the word out with every ounce of strength I had.

The sound of the stamp was soft, but it thundered in my ears.

From Marriage Certificate to Divorce Decree. It took less than three minutes.

When we walked out of City Hall, the sunlight was so bright I couldn't open my eyes.

I stopped and took a deep breath. Strangely, I felt calm. I felt the breeze on my face. Everything was settled.

"Let me drive you," Matthew said, opening the car door. His tone left no room for argument.

"No need." I shook my head and pointed to a taxi in the distance. "I called a car."

"Mary..." Matthew stopped me and pulled a deep blue velvet box from his pocket. "Take this."

I opened it. Inside was a diamond necklace with a center stone of at least five carats, throwing dazzling light in the sun.

The design was exquisite, clearly the work of a master craftsman.

"A breakup gift?"

"A first anniversary gift."

Matthew corrected me, his eyes on my face. "Yesterday was your birthday."

I laughed. This time, I really laughed out loud.

I closed the box and handed it back to him. "Matthew, you're so contradictory. You want a divorce, but you're giving me a gift. Is this guilt? Or charity?"

"I just thought... You should have a nice piece of jewelry." Matthew didn't answer directly, and there was a rare hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Like Sarah?" I raised an eyebrow. "That blue diamond necklace around her neck—you bought it at auction last month, right? Thirty-seven million. Made the headlines."

Matthew's eyes flickered. He didn't deny it.

"No thanks." I slipped the box into his suit pocket, my movements gentle, as if saying goodbye. "There shouldn't be any more ties between us."

The taxi pulled up right on time.

Before getting in, I looked at him one last time.

Sunlight fell on his shoulders, outlining that familiar silhouette. But this person, from now on, he had nothing to do with me.

"Matthew, goodbye," I said softly.

The car pulled away. In the rearview mirror, Matthew stood there, his hand still on the pocket with the necklace, his figure looking somewhat small in the morning light.

It must be my imagination, I thought.

When I looked away, alone now, my tears finally fell.

But I didn't understand. Matthew, I'm the sad one. You should be happy. So why do you look so lonely?