The next morning, I woke up and started packing my luggage. I was halfway through when Ivy came home looking exhausted.

Following her through the door was a strong scent of men's cologne that caught me off guard.

Ivy hated the smell of cologne. Every time I used it, she would scold me. So I hadn't used any cologne for a long time. Looking back now, she didn't hate cologne—she just didn't like me using it.

Seeing me packing, she paused. "Owen sobered up too late last night. I got a hotel room by myself. That's why I didn't come home."

I looked up at her, somewhat surprised. This was the first time in three years of marriage that she'd voluntarily explained herself to me.

I nodded without speaking. She then slowly walked up to me and asked, looking down, "Are you packing because you have a work flight?"

I nodded. "Something like that."

After hearing this, she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief for some reason, then continued, "I have something to do today. I'm just here to grab something, and then I'll leave. I won't be here for lunch."

"Okay."

I didn't look up, continuing to pack my luggage. I'd originally planned to tell her about my resignation over lunch, to officially end our eight-year relationship, but it seemed there wouldn't be a chance now.

With that, Ivy grabbed a red paper bag and the clothes hanging by the door and hurried out. After she left, the photo frame that had hung on the doorframe for eight years suddenly fell to the floor.

Broken glass lay scattered in every direction.

I looked over—it was a photo from our first concert together. In the picture, our hands were clasped together, our faces full of smiles.

That day, she'd promised me that no matter how busy she got, she'd accompany me to a concert every year. But since Owen became her apprentice, she'd forgotten all about it.

The clock ticked away in the empty house.

After a long silence, I cleaned up the glass shards from the floor. Then I threw that photo, a relic of happier times, into the trash can, along with the last of my lingering feelings.

That evening, after packing everything, I lay exhausted on the bed when I received a call from my best friend, Mitchell Potter.

"What's going on with Ivy? She's going overboard. Check your socials—she's actually flaunting her love with that Owen guy.

"You two aren't even divorced yet! How can she do this?"

Listening to Mitchell's complaints, I casually unlocked my phone. Owen's latest post was at the top.

In the photo, Owen wore a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist and held the red paper bag Ivy had taken from home at noon. Only then did I realize she'd come home at noon just to get the concert gift for Owen.

Below the image was a caption.

"Three years of knowing each other. I'm so lucky to have you, Ivy. Happy third anniversary!"

At that moment, it suddenly hit me.

Third anniversary?

Right, today was our third wedding anniversary too. But we'd never celebrated our wedding anniversary, so much so that I'd completely forgotten it myself.

I let out a long breath before replying to Mitchell, "She doesn't need a divorce because we never registered our marriage."

"What? You've been married for three years and still haven't registered your marriage?"

Mitchell's surprised exclamation over the phone practically blasted my eardrum.

He was right. We'd had our wedding ceremony three years ago, and she'd unilaterally canceled our marriage registration 17 times.

That night at 11:00 pm, Ivy made a rare appearance at home.

After coming in and taking off her jacket, she was about to hang it behind the door when she noticed the photo used to hang there was missing. She suddenly froze in place.

"Where's the photo of us that was hanging behind the door?"

Without even putting down her jacket, she walked into the bedroom looking somewhat flustered.

"It fell and broke."

Hearing this, she glanced at the broken glass in the trash bin by the door, and her expression relaxed. She then set her jacket aside and pulled out a bag containing a Gucci belt.

"I didn't have time to give you the gift I promised yesterday. Today happens to be our third wedding anniversary, so this belt is for you. Happy anniversary."

She placed the belt on the bed, and for a moment I wondered if I'd heard wrong. After three years of marriage, she actually remembered our wedding anniversary?

But seeing the receipt showing it was purchased just half an hour ago, I suddenly understood. Owen's third anniversary post must have reminded her, so she bought it on the way home.

What she didn't know was that I already had two belts of this style in my closet. I didn't speak, just looked straight at her.

"By the way, the year-end is coming up. Can you give up this year's airline excellence award? Owen's been in the industry for three years, and his biggest wish is to win the airline's best award, just like you.

"You've won it several years in a row. Can you let him have it this year?" Her expression seemed hesitant as she said this.

I smiled bitterly to myself. So there was a catch to this impromptu gift.

"Sure." I nodded calmly.

It wouldn't be just for this year. He could have it next year and the year after. I wouldn't compete with him for any airline awards anymore because I'd be leaving after tonight.

"You… You're okay with that?"

Perhaps my decisive response surprised her. Ivy kept glancing at me from the corner of her eye, then couldn't help but speak again.

"Owen is my apprentice, so it's natural for me to look after him. Besides, you're my husband, so this is the right thing to do.

"By the way, I'm not flying tomorrow. Let's go to City Hall in the morning and finally get our marriage certificate."

I didn't say anything.

She seemed to suddenly remember I'd been packing my luggage today. After a pause, she asked in a softer voice, "I almost forgot—don't you have a flight tomorrow? What time?"

"3:00 pm."

I looked at her, preparing to use this last chance to tell her I was leaving. But before I could continue, her phone rang again.

It was Owen calling. A weak voice came through—he'd sprained his ankle and couldn't get around on his own. He was calling Ivy for help.

After hanging up, Ivy looked at me somewhat guiltily. "Uh... Owen's in a bit of trouble. He can't handle it alone, so I might need to go over."

She said this almost tentatively, as if asking for my approval.

I held back what I wanted to say, forced a smile, and nodded. "It's fine. You should go."

She seemed relieved by what I said.

She immediately stood up and said before leaving, "Your flight's at 3:00 pm, so there's time. We'll go to City Hall at 10:00 am.

"Don't worry. I'll be there no matter what happens this time."

I couldn't help but smile bitterly. In the end, she still hadn't given me the chance to break up with her face-to-face.

The next morning, I finished packing and headed straight to the airport instead of City Hall.

By noon, I still hadn't received a call from Ivy asking why I wasn't there. It wasn't until the afternoon, when I was about to board, that I got a message from her.

"Sorry, Owen wasn't feeling well today. I just got done taking him to the hospital.

"I couldn't make it to City Hall today. I'll go with you first thing when you get back from this trip."

Looking at this message, I felt nothing inside. As expected, she missed the 18th attempt at registering our marriage.

"There's no need, Ivy. I've resigned and I'm flying to Avalonia. After today, we won't see each other again."

I sent her this final message and prepared to turn off my phone. But the next second, the chat window that had been silent for so long began buzzing frantically.