Chapter 1
Half-asleep in the middle of the night, I suddenly felt someone pressing down on me. The moment icy tears splashed against my neck, I woke up completely.
Just as I reached out to push him away, I heard Christopher’s hoarse voice, "She’s leaving. I just want to see her one last time before she leaves. I’ll come right back. I’m begging you, okay?"
In seven years of marriage, this was only the second time he had ever spoken to me in such a pleading, apologetic tone.
The first time was when I caught a young woman running out of his office with her clothes rumpled.
Afraid I would make a scene, he grabbed my hand and begged me, "Darling, I promise I’ll cut ties with her. Please don’t divorce me. I'd die without you. Okay?"
I gave him one more chance.
And just as he had promised, he devoted himself fully to the family again, becoming the flawless husband everyone else admired and could never find fault with.
Until today...
I switched on the bedside lamp and looked into his eyes as I answered seriously, "Go ahead. Don’t leave yourself with any regrets."
I no longer have any regrets left.
I hope you don’t either.
*****
The sudden light made Christopher instinctively close his eyes. The tear stains on his face became especially clear under the glow. And especially painful to look at.
I suddenly found the entire scene ridiculously laughable.
Back when we were young, he once shielded me from a thug swinging a steel pipe, nearly losing the use of his right arm. That man hadn’t even frowned once. Yet now, he was crying this hard over parting with a girl barely in her twenties.
The drunken haze in his eyes gradually faded as he studied my expression.
A few seconds later, like a spring stretched too tightly for too long, he suddenly lost all strength and collapsed onto the bed.
"You can yell like before. You can slap me and forbid me from going. There’s no need to pretend you don’t care just to make me feel guilty, is there?" His expression was restrained yet full of pain. "It’s exhausting, Vivian."
Ever since Christopher returned his focus to the family, this heavy atmosphere has surfaced from time to time between us.
To outsiders who didn’t know the truth, we looked even more inseparable after surviving the so-called seven-year itch.
People joked that Professor Christopher Elowen acted like a lovestruck teenager, rushing home the second work ended, unable to stay away from me for even a moment. My photo was his social media profile picture. My photo was his cover image.
He voluntarily handed over his phone for me to check whenever I wanted. He looked every bit like the perfect husband. But only we knew what violent waves hid beneath that seemingly calm surface.
After that incident, I became sensitive and fragile, and the words that left my mouth turned sharp and bitter.
If he casually mentioned that a necklace looked nice and made someone appear younger, I would immediately question whether he thought I was old and fading because he now preferred someone younger and prettier.
Once, he even took me to a trendy restaurant for a date. Everything had been perfectly fine at first.
But the moment I heard him casually say, "Their signature dish is pretty good," I suddenly exploded and demanded to know why he was bringing me to a place he had already taken another woman to.
And yet… I hadn’t always been like this.
