After marrying Mack West, I would ask him the same question each year: "Will we ever break up?"

In the first year, he laughed it off, "Don't be silly, we'll be together forever."

In the second year, he simply said, "I love you."

By the third year, he replied impatiently, "Alex is really picking up all your habits."

In the fourth year, Mack presented me with divorce papers. I didn't resist.

He asked, "Aren't you going to fight for the kid?"

"No, he's a West."

==============================

It was two in the morning, with the night outside thick and heavy. The room was wrapped in silence, and even the air seemed to hold its breath. Mack had just laid down, and we lay back-to-back, each ignoring the other's presence. I knew he wasn't asleep.

"Mack, will we... ever break up?"

He remained silent for a moment, as if deep in thought. Then, he sat up and handed me a document. "Sign this."

It was the divorce agreement. Mack had even thoughtfully provided a pen. Four years of marriage, filled with daily routines, ending with him taking the initiative. Absurd.

I struggled to lift my head, "Why?"

He replied casually, "I don't love you anymore."

"Mack, you once promised you'd love me forever, that we'd never part."

Mack sat up, looking at me as if I were naive. "Regina, how old are you now? How can you still take those old promises seriously?"

Ah, but wasn't it precisely those small promises that led me to marry him?

Well, it makes sense. Love is ever-changing; "forever" is just a comforting word.

I glanced at the agreement in my hand, "What about the child?"

"Alex is a West; of course, he's staying with me."

Mack answered without hesitation. I laughed out loud. Memories of Mack saying "it doesn’t matter whose name the child carries" flashed through my mind.

"What’s so funny?"

He didn't understand my reaction, frowning as he asked.

I shook my head. "It's nothing. I agree."

Since promises can fade, let this be our farewell.

Mack was stunned, seemingly not expecting this. He looked at me in disbelief, "You love Alex so much, and you're not going to fight?"

"No, he's a West."

"Alright, we’ll add that to the agreement, and I'll sign again."

"..."

I got out of bed, feeling surprisingly free. "It's so late. Where can you go?"

His voice was full of certainty, convinced I was stranded. It's pitiful, really.

These four years, in my own city, Mack had thrived while I ended up isolated and alone.

I stopped, turned to face him, a small smile on my lips. "I'm not staying here to bug you while you pack."

"?"

"Tomorrow, once I've slept well, I want nothing with the name West left in this house."

"Oh, and Alex is yours too. Don't forget to take him."

That's right, this villa was my property before marriage. Mack was just a guest who didn't pay rent. If I want him gone, he must leave.

"Regina!"

He shouted after me, his voice filled with impotent rage.

Mack West and I were college classmates, though we pursued different areas of study. He was a special admit; I was the valedictorian. At twenty, Mack confessed his feelings to me, and I was touched. At twenty-one, he proposed, causing quite a stir at Yale. At twenty-two, we got married and made headlines. Also at twenty-two, on my birthday, I gave birth to Alex West.

As I lay in the hotel room, I experienced a surprising sense of tranquility. I've always had issues with sleep—going to bed late, waking early, and having vivid dreams. Two years ago, Mack spent a fortune on a high-quality mattress for me. Oddly, despite the careful selection, I still tossed and turned on it nightly. Yet tonight, the hotel’s comfort exceeded all expectations. I slept well, although just before waking, I had a brief dream.

In the dream, I returned to the day Mack proposed. As an observer, I stood on the periphery, watching the familiar moment unfold. Mack was on one knee, holding a dazzling ring, his eyes full of determination and love. "Regina, after graduation, I'll return to New York with you. I will love you forever, and we’ll never be apart." Dream Regina’s eyes brimmed with joyful tears. Yet, I knew those beautiful promises would eventually unravel into chaos. I tried to intervene, but no sound escaped my throat.

"Regina, marry me."

The onlookers urged, "Say yes, say yes!"

Dream Regina slowly extended her hand.

"Don’t accept!" I exerted all my strength. Then I awoke, the phrase "Don’t accept" echoing in the room, particularly desolate and helpless. I held onto a shred of hope that in some parallel world, Regina heard my cry and didn’t marry Mack.

Reflecting on Mack’s proposal, he hadn’t entirely failed to deliver on his promises. After graduation, he did move to New York with me and settled there, in my city. Back then, he truly loved me. Mack was an only child; his parents lived in another state. They were reasonable and always supportive of their son. In the first year of our marriage, our relationship was strong. Mack spent nearly all his time with me when he wasn’t working. No networking, no socializing, no acting like a CEO. He often said that as long as he could be with me, nothing else mattered.

He...

The phone rang, pulling me back to reality. It was Kaitlyn, the nanny.

"Mrs. West, where are you? How could you leave Alex alone at home?" Her tone was reproachful, almost like an interrogation.

I was a bit dazed. Glancing at the time, I realized I’d slept until after ten.

"Got it."

At home, everything was as usual. Mack clearly hadn’t taken my words from last night to heart. Alex, still in his pajamas, was carrying his “warrior” bow, shooting arrows and battling monsters all over the house. Kaitlyn couldn’t keep up, shielding her face and calling out, "Young Master, Young Master," as she chased him around.

Alex spotted me, "Fight the monster!" He shot a foam arrow at me.

"Hit it, hit it!" He jumped up joyfully.

It didn’t hurt, but it was bothersome. I grabbed another toy bow, launching a counterattack with a foam arrow that landed squarely on his chest. Alex paused for a moment before bursting into tears.

"Mommy is mean! I don’t want Mommy, I want Daddy! Regina, I’m going to tell Grandma and Grandpa, and Nana and Pop-Pop, that you hit me."

In our family, Alex was allowed to call me by my name. Mack always said Alex was becoming more like me. He was mistaken. The way Alex prepared to report was exactly like his father. In the past, when Mack and I argued, he’d complain to my parents. Initially, I thought it was endearing. But over time, it was always me getting reprimanded. My parents had a favorite line: "Mack moved to New York for you."

By the way, Mack wasn’t a live-in son-in-law.

Watching Alex cry didn’t irritate me. Normally, I’d crouch down to soothe him, gently reasoning with him, and even apologizing if necessary. But today, I was exhausted. Yesterday afternoon, I picked Alex up from preschool. The whole way home, he was sullen, refusing to speak with me. After persistent questioning, he said, "Other kids have their dads come, but I don’t."

He said, "Because you don’t work, Daddy has to keep earning money, so he doesn’t have time to pick me up."

He said, "Mommy doesn’t know how to do anything except spend Daddy’s money."

He said many other things, but I’d rather forget them.

Even though Alex didn’t speak with malice, his words still cut deep. Mack not picking up his son became my fault. But Alex didn’t know his father wasn’t particularly fond of him.

"I want Daddy! Not Regina."

Alex continued shouting and screaming. I crouched down, gently pinching his soft, chubby cheeks.

"Let’s go find Daddy right now."