“What was the document you asked me to sign yesterday?”

I lifted my head.

A flicker of sadness crossed my eyes before fading back into calm.

“You didn’t ask when you signed it, and now you suddenly remember?” I asked.

“I just thought of it. Besides, you’re my wife. Don’t think you’d do anything to harm me,” Benedict replied confidently.

He seemed unconcerned.

I lowered my eyes, hiding the pain beneath them.

“Are you not afraid I made you sign our divorce agreement, or a property transfer?”

At my words, Benedict’s heart tightened.

He frowned, a trace of panic and displeasure flashing across his face.

“Are you joking with me?”

He stepped closer, gently cupped my face, and said in a voice both tender and firm, “You know this. If you ever left me, I would go insane.

“If I really had to choose between the two, I’d rather it be a transfer of my assets.”

Benedict looked at me, unable to conceal the deep affection in his eyes.

I knew it was true that he could not live without me, and that his feelings were sincere.

So the “joke” I made was also real.

What I had asked him to sign was precisely the divorce agreement dissolving our marriage.

Five years of pursuit, three years of marriage.

Benedict and I were finally coming to an end.

…

That afternoon, when I arrived at the firm, I went straight to the human resources office and submitted my resignation letter.

The HR manager looked up, recognized me, and showed clear surprise.

“Have you really made up your mind, Maya?

“You’ve been with Mr. White the longest. We always said in private that even if the firm went bankrupt, you would never leave.

“So why so suddenly…”

The manager did not finish the sentence, and I lowered my eyes.

Before yesterday, I had believed the same thing.

I had built the law firm from nothing with Benedict, step by step.

We worked together and struggled together.

When we received our very first case, Benedict used the legal fee to treat me to a lavish meal.

That day, we sat in a restaurant fifty-four floors high, looking down at the endless stream of cars below.

Benedict held me and said that he was blessed to have had me by his side.

A sad smile tugged at my lips.

“Everyone has their own path. I’ve already made up my mind.”

The HR manager looked at me, regret filling their eyes.

“Since you’ve decided, then I wish you well in the future.”

I thanked her softly and walked out of the office.

As soon as I returned to my desk, my phone chimed.

I picked it up and saw that Anna had posted on her social feed.

The photo showed Benedict lying on a bed, his sleeping face peaceful and serene.

The caption read: [Drank too much last night. Luckily, I had someone to look out for me. He was thanked generously, of course, wink wink.]

Afraid I might miss it, she even tagged me.

This was not the first time Anna had done this.

Out of every ten posts she made, three mentioned me directly, and the remaining seven were visible only to me.

In the past, I would always be easily provoked by these petty tactics.

I argued with Benedict. I caused scenes.

Every time, he dismissed it lightly and told me, “She's just a friend with benefits. You’re my wife. Don’t be so petty about it.”

Benedict was certain that I loved him and would never leave him, so he hurt me without restraint.

I smiled, though my heart broke into a thousand pieces.

Suddenly, a colleague beside me let out a startled cry. “Look, Mr. White’s girlfriend is here.”

I followed their gaze.

Anna walked into Benedict’s office in high heels, her hips swaying with each step.

Then his office blinds were lowered, cutting off my view of the couple.

I lowered my eyes, my thoughts drifting uncontrollably back to the past.

Benedict had me pinned against the office desk.

A strange light flickered in his eyes as he smiled and said, “Don’t you think what we’re doing feels like an affair? Thrilling, isn’t it?”

His sweat dripped onto me as he held me.

“At the wedding, I’ll make our relationship public.”

I smiled at my past self, foolish and pitiful, believing his sweet lies over and over again.

Then I was deceived thirty-two times.

Now, with the divorce agreement and resignation letter in my bag, there would be no next time.

…

Two hours later, my colleagues and I were busy handing over work when Benedict sent me a message: [Send a cup of coffee in.]

He was notoriously picky; the balance of sugar and bitterness in his coffee had to be exact.

In the company, only I could make it taste just the way he liked.

Sighing, I got up to prepare the coffee.

I did not expect to see Anna in the pantry.

When she saw me enter, a disdainful smile tugged at her lips.

“Your temper is improving, Maya. I thought you were about to burst into the office and catch us in the act.”

She deliberately lifted her chin, revealing the glaring red mark on her neck.

“Is that so?” I lowered my eyes and picked up the coffee beans.

“Want a cup? It has excellent notes.”

My calm left Anna momentarily stunned.

She appraised me from head to toe, as if inspecting some strange creature.

“What are you showing off? Do you really not think Benedict would divorce you?

“I’ll tell you the truth. Back then, it was my little joke that made Benedict register his marriage with you.

“That’s why he never had a wedding ceremony.”

“What are you on about, Anna?” said a voice.

Benedict’s tall figure squeezed into the pantry.

His face showed panic as he quietly rebuked Anna.

But Anna clung to his arm like a spoiled child.

“Well, isn't it the truth? You only agreed to marry Maya to appease me.”

Benedict’s expression twisted into something rather ugly.

He seemed ready to argue as he opened his mouth, but said nothing.

His eyes darted nervously, avoiding mine, his face written with guilt and confusion.

I stood frozen, Anna’s words echoing in my ears.

Between Benedict and me, it had always been me taking the initiative.

I had pursued him for five years, from my first awkward confession to finally gathering the courage to propose.

He had never refused me, but he had never truly agreed either.

The day Benedict suggested registering our marriage, I had been so happy I could not sleep all night.

I had believed my love had finally reached him, that he held me in his heart.

But now, the cruel reality cut through every one of my fantasies like a knife.

I let a bitter smile tug at my lips and pushed the brewed coffee in front of Benedict.

“Your coffee is ready, Mr. White. I’ll be leaving now.”

With that, I ignored his flustered expression and silently turned to leave.

That evening, just as I was about to turn in, my phone rang.

It was Benedict.

“Hey Maya. What Anna said this afternoon… It’s all nonsense.

“Don’t take it to heart.”

Benedict sounded worried, as if he feared I would take these words seriously.

“Mm, I know,” I said calmly, which seemed to surprise him.

The silence stretched on before he continued, “Eighteenth of next month is a good date.

“Let’s have our wedding ceremony then.”

I gripped the phone, my fingers tightening unconsciously.

After a pause, I decided I should tell Benedict about the divorce.

“Do you have time tomorrow? The divorce agreement…”

Before I could finish, Anna’s voice suddenly came through the line.

“Are you going to pack or not, Benedict? Hurry up and come over here.”

Benedict dropped his voice but still sounded flustered.

“What did you say, Maya? I didn’t catch that.

“Look, I have to accompany Anna abroad tomorrow for an exhibition. Let’s talk about it when I get back.”

Then the call ended.

I smiled.

I had wanted to speak to him in person, but in the end, he had not given me the chance.

In the following days, I successfully resigned from the company, packed all my belongings, and moved to a new home.

Occasionally, Benedict sent me pictures of wedding decorations.

[So many styles for the wedding…Which do you like?

[The seaside would make a nice venue. What do you think?]

I looked at the exquisite designs without emotion.

Three years of registering our marriage had brought countless expectations and disappointments.

Now that I was leaving, he finally seemed to care about the wedding.

Meanwhile, Anna’s social feed was updated daily.

Either a sweet photo of the two of them or a carefully prepared surprise video from Benedict.

On the day before the scheduled wedding and the last day of the divorce cooling-off period, Anna’s feed featured a proposal video.

In the video, Anna wore a pure white wedding gown, standing in a blooming flower garden.

Benedict knelt on one knee, holding a sparkling diamond ring.

The people around them cheered, “Kiss her!”

The final frame froze on Benedict smiling as he tightly held Anna in his arms.

I watched quietly, and commented [Congratulations], and then promptly blocked Anna.

Soon after, I received a call from Benedict.

He sounded happy.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Maya.

“The wedding planner has everything arranged. Once I return, we can hold the wedding immediately.”

The next morning, I did not go to the seaside wedding.

By noon, I had not received any calls from Benedict asking why I had skipped it.

It wasn’t until evening that he returned, looking exhausted.

He gazed at me on the sofa, his eyes flickering with guilt and unease.

“Anna wasn’t feeling well, so we had to delay our flight.

“But don’t worry. I promise I’ll make it work next time.”

I was unmoved.

As expected, at the thirty-third wedding ceremony, he had failed to show up once again.

I watched him quietly and pushed the divorce agreement I had prepared onto the table.

“No need for that. It’s over now. Let’s get the divorce finalized.”