After my father’s death, I decided to divorce my husband, Captain Marcus Hale, and stay in Pine Ridge Village forever.

On the first day, I tricked Marcus into signing the divorce papers.

On the fifth day, I handed in my resignation to my old unit at Fort Haven.

On the seventh day, I cooked a full table of food and said farewell to all my friends.

Frowning, Marcus accused me of making the very meal his childhood sweetheart, Julia Summers, hated. I stood up and raised my glass to toast her.

From this day on, Marcus and I would have nothing more to do with each other.

Half a month later, I saw Marcus returning from a mission in Pine Ridge Village. Only this time, the country evening breeze brought tears to his eyes.

On the third day after my father's death, Marcus Hale still hadn't come.

"Chief Collins, I've made up my mind. I want to honor my father's wishes and stay here in Pine Ridge Village to teach the children," I said firmly as I packed up my bags.

The chief of the village, Henry Collins, froze before trying to persuade me, "Clara, you worked so hard to follow the military, why would you come back to this poor place and suffer?"

I shook my head and looked down at the worn wristwatch on my arm, my father's only keepsake bequeathed to me. "I'm not afraid of hardship. Give me seven days. I'll file for divorce."

At seven that evening, I finally returned to our home at Fort Haven. The food on the table was still there, exactly the same as when I had left.

Just as I set my bags down, footsteps echoed at the door.

Marcus walked in, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in his sharp green uniform. His voice was cold.

"Is there any food left? The mess hall's closed. Heat something up and pack it for me. I need to bring it to Julia. She's been sick the past couple of days and can't cook."

I turned my head, revealing my tired, drawn face. "I just got back. I didn't cook."

Marcus frowned, but didn't ask where I'd gone or why I looked so worn. He didn't care and went straight into the kitchen.

At that moment, his mind was full of nothing but his first love's fragile body.

I stood frozen, watching him awkwardly stir a pan of scrambled eggs and heat up boxed mac and cheese. In five years of marriage, this was the first time he had ever cooked.

Ever since Julia Summers had divorced her husband and moved back to Fairview City, I'd seen changes like this too many times.

Marcus placed the mac and cheese into an aluminum lunch box. When he tried to brush past me toward the door, I stepped in his way.

"I'll be going back to my hometown in a few days. Can you sign this application form for me? I need your signature for something."

I pulled out the unfinished divorce papers and pointed to the blank space for his name.

Marcus paused, then signed without even looking. After all, his attention was never really on me. "Julia's been sick the past few days, so I haven't had time. When she gets better, I'll go back with you."

I lowered my eyes, hiding the tears. "Fine."

As we brushed past each other, I caught the scent of vanilla lotion on his body. I could never bring myself to buy it, but his first love used it all the time.

When the courtyard gate closed completely behind him, I stiffly walked to the dining table and carefully folded the paper.

A week earlier, Chief Collins had called to tell me my father, Samuel Wilder, had suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage while teaching class and was being rushed to the hospital.

Panic-stricken, I had begged Marcus to come with me. "Can you come home with me, just once? My dad, he—"

Before I could finish, Julia's voice came calling from outside, "Marcus, hurry up! You promised to take me shopping today!"

At the sound of her voice, Marcus lost all patience. He tore my hand off his sleeve, walked out, and tossed one line over his shoulder, "I'm busy. Go back first. I'll come find you when I have time."

And so I waited for seven days.

Even up to the day of my father's burial, Marcus never once made the time to come.

All I heard were my father's last words as he held my hand before closing his eyes for the final time. "Marcus is a good man. He serves the country, so it's only right that he's busy. I don't blame him. Don't go back and start fights with him."

'But, Father, Marcus isn't busy with the military. He's busy keeping Julia company.'

I wiped away my tears, washed the bowls and chopsticks, and put everything neatly away.

The countdown to leaving had begun.

Six days left.

Day One.

I went alone to Colonel David Grant's office. He was Marcus' superior.

"Here's my divorce application with Marcus Hale. I hope the organization can approve it quickly," I said.

At that time, military personnel were required to submit a formal application to their superior officers for both marriage and divorce.

David's hand paused halfway as he lifted his cup. He immediately set it down and picked up the papers, reading carefully. When his eyes landed on the handwritten signatures from both Marcus and me, he let out a long sigh.

"You and Marcus always seemed so good together. How did it come to divorce?"

Yes. How did it come to this?

We had been introduced through a matchmaker. He was a promising young Captain at Fort Haven, and I was a gentle, kind elementary school teacher. Everyone said we were well matched.

However, ever since Julia returned, all I ever heard was: "Captain Hale really treats Miss Summers well."

I shook my head, pushing aside the thoughts clouding my mind. Then, I answered David's question, "Sir, you can't force matters of the heart. We just want to part peacefully."

He said nothing more and just placed the application into a drawer. "Come back in a couple of days to pick it up."

Leaving the office, I walked to the store near Fort Haven.

As soon as I reached the counter, my eyes landed on the shelf stacked with vanilla lotion. Five years of marriage, and I had never been willing to spend money on a single bottle for myself.

Noticing my gaze, Linda Hayes, the store clerk, chuckled and teased, "Just a few days ago, I saw Captain Hale buy five or six jars of vanilla lotion. Already gone through them all? Ms. Wilder, your husband treats you well."

My hand holding the item went rigid.

A few days ago, I wasn't even at home, and Marcus had never once given me vanilla lotion.

I thought of the scent I had smelled on him last night. My heart knew the truth: the vanilla lotion was for Julia.

Five years of managing his household, of laundry and cooking had never earned me a single bottle.

Julia's return earned her five or six.

I couldn't tell whether the greater weight inside me was grief or anger. Meeting Linda's envious smile, I said, "Give me a bottle. I'll buy it myself."

Day Five.

I picked up the approved divorce papers from David. Then I went straight to the school where I was teaching to hand in my resignation.

The semester hadn't yet started, so the office wasn't crowded.

When I reached my desk to pack my things, I found my notebook buried under a pile of items that weren't mine; they were stacked so high that every inch of space was taken.

My own notebook was crushed at the very bottom. By the time I pulled it out, it was so badly pressed that the creases would never smooth out.

A teacher at the neighboring desk leaned over and explained, "All that stuff belongs to the new Miss Summers. Captain Hale personally moved it in while you were gone. He said better to use the space than leave it empty."

That "Miss Summers" was Julia.

Just a month ago, she had divorced her husband and come back to Fairview City. Now she was working here as a substitute, just a temp teacher.

I gave a short, bitter laugh and pushed all of her things onto the floor before continuing to pack my own.

I was nearly done when a startled gasp came from the doorway.

Julia stood there, and behind her was Marcus.

"Marcus, look," Julia said, her voice trembling with indignation. "My things are on the floor!"

Marcus stepped forward, and the first words out of his mouth were blame.

"Clara, it’s just some stuff. Since when did you become so petty?"

Julia tugged at Marcus’s sleeve, her voice soft and pitiful as she said, "I’m sorry, Clara. I only thought that since you weren’t here these past few days, I’d borrow the space for a while. I didn’t expect it to upset you... I didn’t mean for my things to end up on the floor."

She even moved as if to bow to me.

Marcus immediately caught her, his eyes sharp and cold. "Clara, don’t go too far. Julia didn’t do it on purpose. That’s enough."

How many times had he gotten angry with me because of Julia? I couldn’t even count anymore.

I refused to play any part in their drama. Hugging my box, I walked straight out, but as I passed Julia, a foot shot out and caught me.

Marcus’s gaze sharpened, his hand moving instinctively to grab me, but it was already too late.

I crashed to the floor. The contents of the box scattered everywhere, and my wrist scraped hard against the ground.

Marcus stepped quickly toward me, his hand reaching out. Then, as if catching sight of something, he bent and picked up two sheets of paper from the mess.

"A resignation letter? And this..."

I scrambled to my feet, snatching the papers from his hands in a panic. "I’ll clean this up myself. Don’t mess with my things."

Stunned by how fiercely I reacted, Marcus stared at me. "You’re resigning?"

My lips parted, but no words came. Before I could think of an answer, Marcus gave a sudden laugh. "If you resign, won’t that leave an open position? If Julia gets hired full-time, at least she’ll have a proper job. That’ll put me at ease."

The words I had been ready to explain froze on my tongue. I looked at him deeply once, then didn’t bother picking up the rest of my belongings. I walked straight out of the office.

After submitting my resignation, I unexpectedly ran into Marcus waiting at the school gate, my box in his hands.

When he saw me, he pressed his lips together and handed it over. "Your stuff."

My expression softened, and I was just about to thank him when he continued, "Could you write Julia a recommendation letter? It’ll give her a better chance of being hired full-time."

A gust of wind blew past, stinging my eyes as if filled with sand. I rubbed at the soreness in my gaze and said quietly, "Alright."

Let that be the last payment for the years of our marriage.

Satisfied with my answer, Marcus’s lips curved. Then something else occurred to him, and he asked, "And what about you? What’s your next job?"

I turned my head away, answering carelessly, "Another teaching position at a different school."

Marcus nodded, as if relieved. He set the box down and pulled me into his arms. "Clara, marrying you has been my greatest fortune. When I finish this busy stretch, I’ll take you home, and we’ll have a proper drink with Father."

I leaned against his chest, my heart twisting painfully.

It was too late. Everything was already too late.

Before Marcus could say more, Julia walked up to us. "Marcus, I’m not feeling well. Let’s go home."

I caught the flush in her cheeks, her face rosy and healthy. Without a word, I stepped out of Marcus’s embrace.

Just as I expected, he released me instantly, panic flashing across his face. "I’ll take Julia home first. We can talk later."

He wrapped an arm carefully around Julia, holding her as if she were the most fragile treasure.

I didn’t stop them. Instead, I crouched, lifted the box again, and on my way past the trash can, tossed it inside. I no longer wanted anything that Marcus had touched.

On my final day, I prepared a full table of food to bid farewell to my friends. Most of them were Marcus’s comrades.

As I brought out the last dish, their rowdy voices rose in a chorus of cheers.