On the day we were supposed to finalize our divorce, I was hit with sudden, excruciating stomach pain.

“What’s the matter? Can’t keep up the act anymore?”

“If you don’t actually want a divorce, just admit it. Stop pretending you’re sick.”

Miles sneered at me, arrogance radiating from his posture. I gritted my teeth and tried to bear it, but the pain was overwhelming, and I passed out before we could finish the paperwork.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Miles handed me a stack of receipts, his expression dripping with condescension.

“Lucky you had the surgery before the divorce, otherwise you’d have had to foot the entire bill yourself. It’s $700; you can transfer me $350.”

He tossed the medical bills onto my lap, and the room spun around me. I never thought I’d suffer an acute appendicitis attack on the day of our divorce, let alone that Miles would stoop this low.

I sat there, silent, a bitter smile spreading across my face. Even though I’d resolved to divorce Miles, my heart still throbbed with a dull ache. Struggling to sit up, I saw Miles pushing his phone towards me, insisting.

“$350—PayPal or Venmo, take your pick.”

Under his watchful gaze, I transferred $700 to him. I couldn’t stand his self-righteous ‘savior’ act any longer.

Miles looked at me, surprised. “Feeling generous, aren’t you scared you’ll run out of cash?”

I tightened my grip on the phone, shaking with contained fury. Who would have imagined that Miles, with his lucrative job, could be so petty with his own wife?

I pulled myself together and made a call. Miles, satisfied with extracting money from me, turned to leave. As he headed out, I called after him. “The courthouse is still open. Let’s finalize the divorce now.”

I completed the divorce proceedings in a wheelchair. The clerk at the courthouse initially tried to mediate, but they fell silent when they saw I showed up despite being ill.

The division of assets was a straightforward fifty-fifty split, something Miles and I had agreed upon when we decided to separate. I gave up the house and the car, opting for cash instead.

As we walked out of the courthouse, Miles taunted me with his usual sarcasm. “Always about the money, isn’t it? Guess we were never really from the same world.”

The anesthetic had just worn off, and the pain was brutal. If I could have, I’d have stood up and slapped him. Yet, there was some truth in his words. Miles and I were never from the same world. It had been my mistake to lower my standards and fall for the wrong person.

Just as we were about to part ways, Miles called out to me.

"Adelyn, I hope you can move out soon. If you hang around, I'll have nowhere to turn for support."

The wheelchair came to a sudden halt, its wheels screeching against the rough pavement, like the sound of a heart being torn apart.

"Fine," I replied coolly.

With Theo's help, I got into the car and urged the driver to take me to the home that once belonged to both of us, arriving before Miles. The housekeeping staff was already waiting by the door.

I didn't need Miles to tell me to leave; I would have done so anyway. Every second in his presence felt stifling.

Under my direction, my belongings were packed quickly. Just a few clothes, some jewelry, and the items I brought before the marriage. Anything connected to Miles from after our wedding, I had no interest in taking with me.

When Miles returned home, most of the packing was done. His face was unreadable as he stared intently at the boxes, as if I had taken some treasure from him.

Ignoring his scrutinizing gaze, I instructed someone to take down the painting hanging in the living room.

"What are you doing? Who gave you permission to touch that painting? Leave it alone!" Miles shouted, trying to intervene, his anger unmistakable.

Watching him nearly jump out of his seat in rage, my heart sank further. I no longer recognized the man before me.

"My parents gave me this painting for my birthday before we got married. It’s part of my personal property. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to take it?" I said, maintaining my composure and meeting his eyes.

The painting was bought at an auction by my parents, valued at over half a million dollars. Once Miles discovered its worth, he insisted it be displayed prominently. Whenever we had guests, he made sure to brag about it. He probably never expected I would take it, which is why he was so furious.

With nothing left to say, Miles could only lash out. "A month to cool off. Don’t come back crying and begging."

I didn't bother responding, simply walking away with my head held high.

Beg him? Absurd. I only hope he won't be the one coming to me in tears.

After a long, exhausting afternoon, my wound inevitably reopened. I ended up staying in the hospital for ten days. Initially, I had planned a trip during the lull, but my enthusiasm waned.

During those ten days, my college roommate and close friend, Clover, visited me several times. Clover had been with us from the start, witnessing Miles and me transition from being in love to married, and now, to being divorced. Each time she visited, she would launch into a tirade against Miles, as if venting her frustration was the only way to cope.

“Let it go, Clover, it's behind us now,” I would say, though deep down, the sadness lingered. Miles and I had been in love for four years and married for one. I never imagined we would end up here, and so quickly.

My phone screen was frozen on a bank transfer I had made to Miles, and his words echoed in my mind. In that moment, I felt utterly foolish.

Back in college, my parents were keen on toughening my character. They not only restricted my spending but also forbade me from flaunting our family’s wealth. When they found out I was dating, they insisted I keep it secret, even going so far as to demand a prenuptial agreement before my wedding. They openly expressed their doubts about Miles more than once. They were brutally honest; they feared a 'gold digger' would squander everything.

This led to a major argument between us, as I was determined to prove to them that Miles genuinely loved me. Miles and I made our relationship official in the second year of college. After graduation, he chose to skip further studies and jumped into the fast-paced consumer goods industry. He wanted to make money quickly. I didn’t see anything wrong with this; in fact, I fully supported him. He was a college student from a rural background, and his mother had worked tirelessly to provide for his education. During university, he was always working part-time, driven by his goals and ambitions. This drive is what drew me to him.

Miles was always proud and had a strong sense of dignity. Within three years of graduating, he clawed his way up to a managerial position with a six-figure salary. After we got married, his mother urged me to quit my job and focus on starting a family. She advised that having children while young would make it easier to bounce back into shape. But I never anticipated reaching the point of divorce.

My initial agreement to her suggestion and my current lack of pregnancy became tools for Miles to manipulate me.