Chapter 2

The photo on the screen was glaringly obvious.

It was a selfie taken inside a Ferris wheel cabin at a famous New York landmark.

The backdrop was the dazzling Manhattan skyline at night. Chloe, eyes closed, was tiptoeing to kiss a man's profile.

Most striking was the man's hand resting against the glass window at the edge of the photo. Long, slender, with distinct knuckles, his ring finger bare.

I zoomed in and recognized the silver cufflinks—the ones I'd commissioned from a Brooklyn artisan for our wedding anniversary last year.

But the wedding ring that should have been on that hand was gone.

"Mom?" Leo tugged at my sleeve. "Can I make a wish?"

I turned off the screen, took a deep breath, and knelt down. "Of course, I wish our best little actor eternal happiness. Make your wish."

Leo closed his eyes and said earnestly, "My first wish is for Mom to always be happy and never secretly shed tears again."

My heart instantly melted into a pool of bitterness. No matter how Richard hurt me, at least I still had Leo.

"My second wish is for Mom to always be healthy and beautiful," he opened his clear eyes. "My third wish is that next time I'm the lead, everyone will come to see my performance!"

He didn't wish for Dad to come home. A six-year-old child has already learned not to crave what is destined to be unattainable.

"Mommy will always be with you," I hugged him tightly, silently repeating in my heart: Soon, we'll be free.

After Leo fell asleep, I started packing my bags. I didn't want any property, just absolute custody of Leo.

At one in the morning, I heard the sound of a key turning in the entryway.

Richard pushed open the door, his suit jacket draped over his arm, his tie loosely undone. Seeing the celebratory cupcakes and Leo's award certificates still on the coffee table, he paused slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

I didn't question him about the Ferris wheel incident, nor did I become hysterical; I simply calmly pushed the divorce papers in front of him.

"Sign them,"

he said, stunned. Just as he frowned, preparing to read the contents of the paper, his phone suddenly rang in the deathly silent living room.

Chloe's name flashed on the screen.

The call connected, and I could clearly hear the girl's tearful voice pleading for help: the drain in her apartment had broken, and the floor was flooded.

Richard's expression instantly shifted from annoyance to anxiety: "Don't panic, go somewhere higher, I'll be right there."

He didn't even look at the terms of the agreement, grabbed the pen I handed him, hastily signed his name on the last page, and strode out of the apartment.

The door slammed shut in front of me. I looked at the scribbled signature, suddenly smiled, but tears fell onto the table.

It was finally over.