Three years after our divorce, I ran into Cole Allen again on the streets of Atlantica. I was there as a volunteer, handing out boxes of cold medicine, and he had become a homeless man, struggling to survive.

It was ironic because our divorce had all started because of a box of cold medicine.

“Two times a day. Two pills each time.”

I handed the medicine to him, my tone calm, like I was speaking to a stranger. However, Cole’s eyes slowly turned red.

“Sadie, you still hate me.”

I didn’t look up. I kept passing out boxes of medicine to the people in line.

“This box of medicine only costs one dollar. It’s very cheap, yet you forced me to sell my blood for money. Cole, how could I not hate you for that?”

I said the word hate as casually as if it meant nothing.

Behind me, Cole Allen went completely still, and after that, he didn’t say another word. A long while passed, and I heard footsteps slowly fading away. When I finally turned around, Cole’s thin figure had disappeared into Sunnytown’s cold, gray rain.

“Sadie, do you know that homeless guy?”

Someone tapped my arm lightly. It was Ava, my junior from school, who was also from my hometown.

I looked away and nodded, saying, “Yeah, he’s my ex-husband.”

Ava gasped. She couldn’t even hide the shock in her voice.

“Ex… Ex-husband? Sadie, how did you end up marrying a homeless guy?”

I shook my head and handed out the last box of cold medicine before answering, “When I met him, he wasn’t like this. We just handed out our last box anyway, and the rain’s only going to get heavier. Let’s get back in the car and head to campus.”

On the ride back, I could see Ava sneaking glances at me, clearly wanting to ask more but too afraid to. I smiled helplessly. So, bit by bit, I started telling her about my past with Cole.

It wasn’t anything special. It was just an ordinary college romance. After graduation, he became a computer engineer in Tech Valley, while I worked as an actuary at a securities firm. We both earned decent money.

The apartment we rented was in a good neighborhood, the kind with solid security and quiet streets. In my plans, we would save enough to buy our own place within five years. Then, we’d get married, have a cute child, and have a small family.

Ava listened, but the more she heard, the deeper her frown grew.

“That sounds like a pretty happy life. So why did you get divorced?” She hesitated before blurting out the obvious guess. “Did Cole cheat on you?”

I gently pressed down the fist she had unconsciously clenched and explained, “No. He didn’t cheat, and neither did I. We divorced… because of a cooking pot.”

Ava’s eyes widened. She clearly thought I was joking, and maybe it really wasn’t just a cooking pot that broke our marriage.

Three years ago, it had been a rainy night just like this one. I had asked Cole to stop by the department store after work and buy a new cooking pot. The coating on the old nonstick pan the landlord left in the apartment was practically peeling off.

Meanwhile, I went to buy groceries. I had planned to cook a nice dinner to celebrate our wedding anniversary. In my head, the pot would bubble softly on the stove, and Cole would sniff the air, saying it smelled amazing. Then, we’d start with an appetizer and talk about the future, about how maybe we could finally buy our own house or maybe adopt a cat next year.

However, the moment I opened the door, Cole was standing there holding up a brand-new camera and waving at me excitedly.

“Babe! Come look at this! I paid extra to grab it. It’s a limited edition!”

I stared at the camera, stunned for a few seconds. The grocery bags in my hands had already dug deep red marks into my fingers. They throbbed with a numb, aching pain.

Almost instinctively, I asked, “Where’s the cooking pot?”

Cole seemed caught off guard by the question, but he quickly laughed it off, completely unconcerned.

“It’s just a pot. The department store isn’t going anywhere. We can buy one anytime. But if we miss this, it’s gone forever! Isn’t a camera way more romantic than a pot?

“Oh, right. I checked our joint account earlier, and there was still some money left, so I bought plane tickets. Hurry and pack your bags! We’re taking the new camera to Iceland tonight to chase the northern lights!”

I didn’t say anything. I just set the grocery bags down. Then, I quietly pulled out my phone and opened our joint savings account. Our balance was 41 cents. It wasn’t even enough for us to pay this month’s water bill.

Meanwhile, Cole’s excited voice kept going beside me. “Babe, listen. This camera has incredible high ISO performance. The aurora photos we take won’t have any noise at all. When we get back from Iceland, we’ll print them and stick them on the fridge…”

A familiar wave of exhaustion washed over me. I felt so tired. For three years, Cole had always been like this; he lived in the moment. If he wanted something, he had to have it immediately, even if it meant maxing out credit cards and piling up debt. However, what I wanted was a future where I could plan with peace of mind and protect myself against risks.

I looked up at him, still happily fiddling with that brand-new camera, and suddenly, it all became clear: Cole and I didn’t want the same things in life.

“Let’s get a divorce.”

The camera in Cole’s hand slipped with a sharp click, knocking against the corner of the table.

He looked at me blankly.

“Divorce? Why? Because I didn’t buy that pot? Or because I bought plane tickets to Iceland without discussing it with you first? Sadie, you want a divorce over something so small?”

They were all small things, but when enough seeds scatter across the ground, picking them up one by one could drive anyone to the edge.

“Cole, I’ve told you this many times. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want our bank balance dropping to single digits every month. I don’t want to swipe a credit card every time we pay for something. I don’t want us running around the city again and again, renting one place after another. Being with you… is exhausting.”

Cole looked like he had just heard the biggest joke in the world. His voice rose as he argued back, “Being with me is exhausting? I work hard every day. I want to take you to see the most beautiful landscapes. I want to record our life with the best cameras. And that’s what makes you exhausted?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what makes me exhausted!” Three years of frustration burst out all at once, and I couldn’t stop myself from shouting.

I opened the notes app on my phone, scrolled to the very top entry, and then turned the screen toward Cole.

“Cole, do you remember this?”

It was a simple record that stated our goal was to put down a down payment for a house, our current total was 47,218 dollars, and our progress was at 21.2 percent. The last update was from three years ago, the afternoon we first fell in love with that small apartment.

Cole’s gaze flickered.

“You were the one who said you wanted to get us a house. The overtime pay I earned from working late nights, the money I saved from every coffee I didn’t buy… all of it went into this fund. Do you remember where that money ended up?”

I opened another screenshot. It was a travel invoice that had long since expired.

“In the first month after we got married, you maxed out your credit card to prepay for that Arctic photography tour. When your salary was delayed, and you couldn’t pay the card bill, we couldn’t even cover rent. That’s when we used this money.”

Then, I pulled up more digital receipts, one after another.

“And this, that skydiving experience camp you insisted on attending last year, you used our emergency fund for it. And you even spent another 5000 dollars on brand-new gear. And two months ago, when we finally managed to save a little again… you bought a new car. You took out a loan for a performance car because you said driving something exciting made life more interesting. Cole… have you ever thought about our future?”

His lips moved, but no sound came out. He simply lowered his head.

“Every time we go grocery shopping, I compare prices and calculate weight. But all you do is stand there on your phone, impatient, telling me to grab whatever because it was only a few dollars. When I suggested we take some classes to learn new skills, since layoffs were happening everywhere, you said it was a waste of money. Then, you went and bought a new camera.

“I budget carefully for months, but when you spend money on games with your credit card, you don’t even think before spending.”

…

Maybe hearing me recall everything one by one finally ignited Cole’s anger.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and said, “Sadie, can you stop being so pragmatic all the time? All you care about are pots, pans, rent, and utility bills. If life is nothing but those things, then what’s the point? I’d rather be dead. I just want our life to mean something.”

Tears slipped helplessly from my eyes as I replied, “Meaning? But your ‘meaning’ has left us unable to pay this month’s water bill.”

Cole’s face turned pale with anger.

“Money! It’s always money with you! We can always earn more money, but some opportunities, once missed–”

I didn’t want to continue arguing like this, exhausted and drained, so I cut him off, “It’s been three years. Every time I said we should save for a down payment, you said renting was better because it gives us more freedom. Every time I worried about the uncertainty of the future, you said, ‘Why overthink it? Let’s just enjoy the moment.’

“Cole… I want a house, and you can’t give me that.”

The words pinned him in place, and he couldn’t find anything to say.

The room fell silent except for the sound of our heavy breathing. I looked at the man I had loved for three years—the carefree spirit that once made my heart race. Now, it just looked like someone refusing to grow up.

I turned my head and saw the suitcase he had packed in the corner. Suddenly, the storm of emotions inside me quieted. Then, I looked back at Cole.

“Make your choice. Are you going to chase the northern lights… or face the utility bills at home with me?”

The door closed behind him. Cole left.

I stood there blankly for two seconds. It took a long moment before I finally came back to my senses. Then, I found my lawyer’s number and dialed it.

“Hello. I’d like you to draft a divorce agreement for me as soon as possible. We don’t have any shared property. There are only some debts that need to be divided. The sooner the better. Thank you.”

After hanging up, the rain outside the window seemed to grow heavier. Along with it, my breathing grew hotter and faster. Maybe it was because I had gotten soaked in the rain outside the supermarket, or maybe it was the aftershock of my emotions rising and crashing all at once.

Dragging my heavy steps, I returned to the bedroom. When I checked my temperature, it read 38.5 degrees Celsius, which meant I was having a fever.

I searched the house for a long time and finally found a single expired fever pill. However, I couldn’t care about that anymore. I swallowed it with cold water and prayed that when I woke up after some sleep, the fever would be gone, but things turned out far worse than I imagined.

In the middle of the night, I woke up from the pain spreading through my entire body. It felt like a volcano was burning inside me. This couldn’t continue, but my mind was burning and hazy. Almost instinctively, I reached for my phone and tried to call Cole for help.

“Beep. Beep. Beep.”

Only when the tone rang for the third time did my sluggish brain realize something. Cole should be on a flight to Iceland right now. How could he answer the phone?

I let out a dry laugh, which only made my throat hurt even more. I laughed at myself for being so delirious from the fever that I had actually expected him to help me. Then, I thought of a coworker. Even though I hated bothering other people, with my current condition, I had no choice but to swallow my pride.

Alas, the voice that came through the receiver was a mechanical prompt.

“Sorry. Your phone service has been suspended due to an outstanding balance. Please top up your account as soon as possible to restore service.”

Suspended?

I tried to top up the account and opened the payment page, but where could the money come from? Our account balance showed 41 cents. It wasn’t even enough to buy the cheapest phone plan.

The phone service and internet were tied together. If the phone service was cut off, it meant the internet was gone too. I couldn’t even send a message asking for help, so I had to save myself.

Luckily, the map app still worked. Squinting through my fever haze, I struggled to search for the nearest 24-hour hospital. The closest one was five kilometers away. If I had a car, it wouldn’t be that far.

With that thought, I forced myself to the garage and turned on the light to find it empty. Only then did it slowly occur to me that Cole had sent the car off for modifications yesterday. At the time, I had suggested renting a car temporarily. After all, we lived in the suburbs, and getting around wasn’t convenient.

Cole had immediately shaken his head. “There’s a bus stop and a subway station right outside. Why waste money like that? I’m just changing the exhaust pipe. The shop works fast. I’ll drive it back tomorrow. What could happen? Stop worrying about nothing.”

Yet, there was no car now.

I stood there, shivering all over, barely able to stay on my feet. If the fever kept rising like this, I might die here alone in the house.

No. I had to get to the hospital.

Using the last of my strength, I pulled out the thickest down jacket from the closet. I layered on two pairs of pants, pulled my socks up high, and wrapped a scarf messily around my neck and mouth, trying to trap the little warmth there was. I couldn’t lift an umbrella, so I put on a raincoat instead.

When I pushed the door open, Sunnytown at 3:30 a.m. felt like a giant wet refrigerator. The cold seeped straight into my bones. Every step I took felt like I was walking on clouds, dizzy and unsteady. I kept my head down and walked, too afraid to stop, when suddenly, several pairs of dirty shoes stopped in front of me, blocking my path.

Slowly, I lifted my head. Three men stood there. They were soaked from the rain, and the heavy stench of alcohol and tobacco clung to them. They grinned at me with excited, lewd smiles. In that instant, I knew something was wrong.

I turned and tried to run, but one of them grabbed me and yanked back the hood of my raincoat.

“You’re dressed so thick… What good stuff are you hiding under there?”

A hoarse scream tore from my throat. “No… Get away from me!”

However, two of them had grabbed me and dragged me toward the darker woods nearby.