The next day, I arrived at the office early, a bundle of nerves. Jaiden's assistant noticed I had been sitting there for over two hours, likely feeling awkward on my behalf. In an attempt to comfort me, they kept bringing coffee and snacks, urging me to relax.

“Ms. Armstrong, Mr. Armstrong has probably been delayed by urgent business,” the assistant suggested, rubbing their hands together with a stiff smile.

I took a sip of coffee, and the bitterness was palpable. Everyone in the company knew Jaiden was aloof towards me. The assistant was polite enough to still call me Ms. Armstrong, but to everyone else, that title had lost its significance.

Around noon, Jaiden finally strolled into the office, accompanied by his cheerful secretary, Emery Daniels. They stood close, their arms nearly touching. Emery spotted me and stepped away, a flicker of fear crossing her face.

"Jaiden," I sneered, "this is a professional setting. Walking around with your girlfriend so openly tarnishes the Armstrong reputation!"

Emery's voice was quivering, gentle yet teary, "Ada, it's not how it appears between Mr. Armstrong and me..."

“Call me Ms. Armstrong or Mrs. Armstrong in the office,” I corrected, towering over her. “Isn’t it a basic rule for a secretary? Such professionalism, huh."

Emery glared at me with resentment before hiding behind Jaiden, sniffling. Jaiden snapped in her defense, "I don’t need you lecturing my staff."

“I’ve had a revised divorce agreement drawn up. You’ll have the house and cash; I’m not leaving you empty-handed,” he said.

Hearing about the divorce agreement, Emery’s eyes sparkled. I shot her a disdainful look, and she promptly lowered her gaze.

I quickly glanced through the agreement and signed my name with flourish. Without any hesitation on my part, Jaiden coughed a couple of times.

“You’ve checked it over, once you sign…”

“No regrets, don’t worry. We’ll wrap it up in a month,” I cut him off, grabbing my bag and leaving decisively.

Grandpa, forgive me. Jaiden's heart isn't here, and I can't endure any longer.

I booked my ticket back to the countryside, finally setting off for home after so many years.

Upon getting off the train, I transferred to a minibus, then traversed bumpy dirt roads until I reached the village. The city was ever-changing, but the village was the same—old and worn down.

There wasn’t a flower shop in the village, so I spent the afternoon collecting wildflowers from the hills, arranging them neatly before placing them at my parents' graves. They had worked in a badly managed fireworks factory and died in an explosion. Just like that, I was orphaned, and it was the Armstrong Charity Fund that came to my aid.

By the time I graduated college, I joined the Armstrong company and met the Armstrong family. I worked tirelessly, intent on repaying them.

Donald Armstrong, on his deathbed, asked me to take care of Jaiden for five years.

“Ada, that boy Jaiden, he’s been too carefree,” he advised.

“I know you like him; I’ll make the choice for you.”

Back then, Jaiden was tall, handsome, with a charmingly mischievous air—the type girls swoon over. Coming from the village, seeing Jaiden in his elegant attire made him seem like a prince from a fairy tale.

“If after five years, you still find it unsuitable, you can divorce anytime. The Armstrong family will see you rewarded.”

“Ada, give Jaiden a chance, and give yourself a chance too.”

I blushed, anxiously awaiting Jaiden’s response.

I naively believed Jaiden’s agreement meant he had feelings for me. But on our wedding night, he looked at me with outright contempt.

“Ada Armstrong, you sure know how to play your cards!”

In the five years we've known each other, Jaiden never truly trusted me. He believed I manipulated his grandfather, Donald, to gain his favor. Throughout our marriage, I devoted myself to bolstering Armstrong Industries, working tirelessly without complaint. Meanwhile, Jaiden's name frequently appeared in the gossip columns, linked to one affair after another. I never caused a scene, always trying my best to keep Jaiden on track.

For those five years, I counted down the days. If I couldn’t hold on to Jaiden, I decided I would let him go. As the sun set, its warm rays bathed my face and lit up my parents' gravestones. I poured out my grievances from these years, my nose stinging with emotion.

"Dad, Mom, I regret it," I whispered. "Back then, there was a mix of selfishness with my gratitude. I liked Jaiden and let my feelings get the better of me. I have no one to blame but myself for the situation we're in now." I sighed. "If I hadn't been so caught up in Jaiden's looks and had focused solely on my career without marrying, would things have turned out differently?"

As I left, the sinking sunlight stretched my shadow behind me, long and solitary. I slipped into a restless sleep, my mind clouded for days. Initially, I thought it was just years of hard work catching up to me—a persistent fatigue that finally took hold.

Back in New York City, a hospital visit and a diagnosis left me stunned. How could I have only a few months left?

“Ada, don’t forget about tomorrow at the county office,” Jaiden's voice crackled through the phone. I froze, unable to speak or react.

“Why so quiet? Have you changed your mind? Let me tell you…” Jaiden's tone was dripping with sarcasm, and soon all I heard was a buzzing like bees around my ears. I returned home, feeling lost and adrift. Dad, Mom, I miss you. I’ll be joining you soon. After tomorrow, I won’t have a home anymore.

That night, sleep was elusive as I tossed and turned. Who will take care of my affairs when I'm gone? The thought of leaving this world completely alone filled me with fear. The next morning, I faced the mirror, layering foundation until my pallor was masked. With bright red lipstick, I managed to bring some color to my face.

“What time do you call this?” Jaiden grumbled impatiently, looking at me with disdain. “That makeup is over the top.”

“I need to tell you something, I…” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.

“Ada, why are you so late? Mr. Armstrong has been waiting for you,” Emery timidly emerged from behind Jaiden.

Pain gripped my chest again, and I clenched my fists in frustration. “Jaiden, bringing your mistress to the divorce—could you be any more shameless?”

“Ada, stop with the nonsense! We have business this afternoon—Emery's just here to sign some contracts with me.”

I had hoped to appeal to Jaiden’s compassion, seeking comfort in my fear of death. But faced with this scene, I lost all hope in him. What can you expect from a man who brings his mistress to the divorce?

I strode briskly toward the county office, with Jaiden trying to keep up. Suddenly stopping at the entrance, I pointed at Emery, my voice filled with bitterness. “Are you here to settle your affairs too? Getting divorced and remarried, one-stop shopping?"

Emery paused for a moment, noticing Jaiden's intense expression, and then backed out of the room.

Signatures, fingerprints, the official stamp—everything was finalized in just a few minutes. Who knew that ending a relationship could be so straightforward? Five years entwined together, undone in five minutes.

Now, even the divorce certificate looked celebratory in its bright red form. How ironic that a divorce could feel like something to rejoice over.

Jaiden gave me one final look. There was no hesitation, no deep emotion. He didn’t say a word before turning to leave. I watched as his figure grew smaller until it vanished, side by side with Emery.

Jaiden never realized how many times I had watched him walk away. Before we were married, he’d leave reluctantly, looking back at me every few steps. We would share a silly smile.

Then his grandfather pushed him into marrying me. Since then, he’d leave without ever looking back. It was always me watching his retreating back.

Jaiden, goodbye. Let this be the end.

A sharp pain stabbed in my chest, and I couldn’t stop the nosebleed. Thankfully, Jaiden didn’t turn around to see my disheveled state.

Emery asked to meet, and I agreed. She arranged the meeting in the high-end apartment Jaiden had bought for her—a prime piece of real estate in the heart of Manhattan, elegantly decorated, far nicer than where I lived. Jaiden certainly didn’t mind spending money on his mistress.

Emery sat confidently, lazily fiddling with her manicure. I crossed my legs, leaning back in a relaxed manner.

"I could file a lawsuit to reclaim any property Jaiden bought for his mistress with our marital assets," I said.

Emery's smug smile instantly vanished.

"Let's get to the point. I'm quite busy," I said, resting my head on my hand, waiting for whatever challenge this young woman might present.

"Ada, you've already divorced Jaiden. You’ve gotten your share. Let him go."

"Professionally, as the vice president, I still have the authority to fire a secretary."

"Personally, you, the mistress who drove away the wife, think that's something to boast about?" I replied coldly, looking at Emery with both pity and disdain.

"Jaiden loves me. You're just an aging woman, stop dreaming!" Emery yelled, feeling humiliated by my indifference.

I pressed the stop button on the recorder.

With evidence in hand, I played the recording. Moments ago, Emery had been flaunting her triumph; now she was silent, subdued.

"I've already discarded Jaiden like the trash he is. If you want him, take him. Just don’t bother me again."

Were it not for the fact that my life was nearing its end, with money holding little meaning beyond medical expenses, I would have taken the opportunity to teach Emery a lesson. In the end, I sent the recording to Jaiden—not out of spite, but to show him Emery’s true colors.

I despised Jaiden, but I still wished him well. Consider it a favor repaid to Donald. From now on, let our paths diverge. I hope he finds someone trustworthy.

I resigned from my position as vice president of Armstrong Industries and headed to a renowned hospital in Florida for treatment. Before being admitted, I often brooded over life’s unfairness, the cruelty of disease. But at the hospital, I met others worse off than me, with more severe illnesses, unable to afford treatment—the hallways teemed with tragic stories.

I engaged actively in my treatment regimen, hoping for a miracle. Initially, I stayed in a shared ward, bustling with activity. Watching the other patients' families visiting, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness.

In this world, there was no one left to care for me.