Not long after Sharon left, her severely depressed lover, Aaron, updated his social media.

He posted a photo of the two of them kissing, with a caption that read: "Wifey says my lips are soft and sweet, a hundred times better to kiss than her ex-husband’s! Wifey says my waist..."

I only read the beginning before quietly exiting the app. I also gave Aaron a nickname: Mr. Hundred Times.

Thinking about it, it was actually ridiculous. He was the one Sharon always held closest to her heart. Why was he competing with a loser like me?

He probably was not depressed at all. His brain was more likely broken.

Of course, the absurdity did not stop there. Mr. Hundred Times even messaged me privately, sending over a naked photo covered in kiss marks.

"Lucas, when she was with you, was she this inconsiderate, too? It hurts so much. I’m about to be completely drained."

A wave of goosebumps ran over my skin. I replied to him: "I can tell. Tell her to be careful not to snap you in half."

This was not me being sharp-tongued. He really was built like a twig. Those skinny arms and legs looked like they could break at any moment.

Just a few minutes later, Sharon’s call came through. She exploded into curses in her hometown twang. I did not understand a single word.

After a long silence, I tested the waters. "Can you say it again in normal English?"

The other end went quiet as well. "Lucas Reed, don’t test my patience."

I understood instantly. "Then, shall we go to the courthouse tomorrow? It’s a bit late now. They’re already closed."

She gave no response and hung up.

When I called back, I found myself blocked. I let out a sigh.

She had always been like this. The moment she got angry, she blocked me.

In the past, I would have abandoned all dignity out of love, clinging shamelessly to beg for her forgiveness. Now, I could not care less.

Seven years with Sharon had exhausted both my body and my mind.

How had we ended up like this?

Back then, she had been the one who pursued me. At that time, her gentleness and those eyes full of love were meant for me alone. We struggled together, moving from a basement apartment into a grand villa.

Later, Sharon’s heart began to wander. She wanted me to return home to take care of her seriously ill parents. On the other hand, she used work as an excuse to stay away from home for half a month at a time.

It was not that I had no complaints. I loved her too much and truly could not lose her.

As long as she did not cross any fundamental lines, I was willing to turn a blind eye and muddle through life together.

Unfortunately, Sharon failed to hold the line.

After Aaron returned to the country, the two of them quickly rekindled their old relationship.

Endless arguments followed, until we grew sick of even looking at each other. Every time we fought, she was in the wrong. That was when she would deliberately choose the most vicious words to wound me.

She despised me for living off her, saying I was useless and could not help with the company at all. She forgot that all the connections she had were earned back then, glass by glass, when I drank myself into them.

After countless arguments, I brought up divorce. She hugged me instead and promised to make up a wedding for me.

When we got married, we were poor. We could not afford a wedding. That day, Sharon cried as she swore that once she made it big, she would give me the wedding of a lifetime.

When she finally became rich enough, she had the means but not the intention. When she mentioned it again, my heart stirred despite itself.

Every detail of the wedding had to pass through me. I would not allow even the smallest flaw.

In the end, she still destroyed everything.

I knew it then. My heart would never beat for her again.

The next day, I slept until I woke up naturally. The moment I turned on my phone, I saw more than a dozen missed calls from her. That was rare.

Before I could finish feeling surprised, she called again.

"Lucas, where the hell did you go? My dad had an accident in his pants! And my mom… how many days has it been since you last bathed her?"

Her voice was sharp and shrill. "You promised me you’d take good care of them. That’s why I handed them over to you! Is this how you take care of people?

"Being useless is one thing. I didn’t expect you to have zero sense of responsibility too! You’ve really disappointed me!"

Listening to her, I found it almost funny. If I truly had no sense of responsibility, would I have taken care of her parents, Robert and Margaret Moonstone, for three years?

Her father was paralyzed while her mother had Alzheimer’s. Anyone could imagine how difficult that was. They despised me, looked down on me for living off their daughter, and constantly pressured me to divorce her.

When I refused, they did everything they could to torment me. Soiling themselves three times a day was basic routine.

I was miserable, yet because I loved her, I endured it all in silence.

Only after I brought up divorce did I finally find some relief.

I replied casually, "Why don’t you hire a caregiver, ex-wife?"

She exploded instantly, "What do you mean by that? You’re saying you won’t care anymore?"

I spoke calmly, "They’re your parents, not mine. You’re the one who should be taking care of them. If you don’t want to do it yourself, then consider spending money and hiring someone. Why are you yelling at me?"

Her parents were notoriously difficult, even among professional caregivers. Finding someone reliable on short notice would not be easy.

She seemed to realize that, too, because her tone softened. "You’ve been the one taking care of them all these years. You know their situation best. We’re family. There’s no need to draw such clear lines."

I laughed. "Don’t drag me into this. You and Aaron are their real family now. If you can’t handle it, let him take care of them."

A shrill scream came from the other end. "His hands are meant for playing the piano! How could he do such crude work! Lucas, what kind of intentions do you have?"

So what? I was just supposed to endure all of this?

It turned out love and the absence of it were painfully obvious. Then what exactly did my seven years amount to? I only felt tired, so tired I did not even want to breathe.

"Pick a time. Let’s finalize the divorce. If you keep messing around, don’t blame me for not holding back."

She froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You think you can threaten me? Lucas, you really overestimate yourself. Final warning. Keep this up, and I’ll make sure you leave with nothing."

How did I never notice before that she could not understand human language?

I was exhausted. "Fine. You pick the time. I’ll be there."

The sound of glass shattering came through the phone. She had lost her temper.

She gritted her teeth. "Great. Let's meet in an hour. Whoever doesn’t show is a loser."

She had always been all talk and no action. This time was no different.

I waited outside the courthouse for two full hours. She never showed.

I called her. No one answered. I pinched the bridge of my nose, a suffocating pressure building in my chest.

Was this really necessary? We were already getting divorced. Did she still need to toy with me like this?

At the peak of my irritation, she came running toward me in a fluffy dress and thin stilettos. Her smile was sweet as she threw herself into my arms.

"Honey! I’m so happy! We can finally get our marriage certificate!"

I frowned and looked past her, straight at her assistant, Emily Parker. "What’s going on?"

Emily covered her face, her expression pale. "Sir… she was just in a car accident. She has amnesia."