After Bobby Brooke became a well-known doctoral advisor, he would pick a poor female student every year to sponsor, under the noble pretense of building a good reputation.
On our wedding anniversary, he showed up late, with a pure-looking university girl with a high ponytail trailing behind him.
He said, "This girl is young, thin-skinned and simple-minded. If you keep a cold face, you'll scare her. Give her a cup of warm milk first. She tends to get insomnia before bed and if she doesn't drink it, she'll end up tossing and turning and tiring me out."
Laughter and jeers echoed around us and his academic buddies warmly called her 'sister-in-law.'
I kept a cold face, said nothing and threw the divorce papers in his face.
"Kirsten, do you think waving fake divorce papers around all the time is funny? Why don't you throw a fit in bed too? If you've got the guts, then actually divorce me!" He kicked aside the stack of papers with his foot, his cold and mocking tone piercing right through my heart like a blade.
What Bobby didn't know was, the divorce papers were drafted by a lawyer this time. I truly meant to divorce him.
——
"Kirsten, don't toss divorce papers every time you fight with Bobby! It'll ruin your marriage."
"Yeah, the last one you threw had a bunch of typos. Did you fix them yet?"
The room erupted in laughter again. No one was surprised anymore, they were already used to it. I clenched my fists, struggled to stay on my feet.
Bobby had become a doctoral advisor five years ago and all his friends since then were educated scholars. With just a bachelor's degree, I might as well have never gone to school in their eyes.
"All right, that's enough." Someone in the crowd finally cut in and only then did everyone wisely change the subject. I looked around the crowd, but saw nothing.
After a deep breath, I bent down and picked up the divorce papers, handing them to Bobby again, "Bobby, this divorce agreement has no typos or grammar errors. I paid a lawyer to write it."
"Look it over. If there's an issue, contact my lawyer." I handed him the lawyer's business card as well.
Only then did he straighten up, let go of the girl in his arms and take the papers.
I turned around, went to the kitchen and made a cup of warm milk, then brought it to the girl named Anita Hartland. She was very pretty and her features resembled mine when I was younger.
But I was no longer the one who held a place in his heart. One after another, I had no idea how many had come and gone.
I said, "The milk powder's in the cabinet, both skim and whole milk. If you want some later, you can make it yourself."
"Your advisor has a kind heart. There are 11 other students like you, all living on the third floor. You can learn from them and try to graduate soon."
Over the years, I had indeed used divorce as a threat many times, handing him everything from handwritten notes to templates copied off the internet. I thought Bobby would change, but it had little effect.
In the name of maintaining a good reputation, he had brought home countless female students. Batch after batch, now only 11 remained.
I took care of them like a maid, sometimes having to turn a blind eye to their flirting. I no longer wanted to waste my life with him.
In the past, our anniversaries were just the two of us. Simple and warm, but full of love.
I didn't know when it changed, but our wedding anniversary became an excuse for him to brag and show off. The guests were always strangers to me and always new.
I went upstairs to pack some clothes, ready to leave.
Bobby took one step and blocked me at the staircase, his cold eyes locked tightly onto the suitcase in my hands.
He shouted, "Kirsten, I think you've gotten too comfortable living as a full-time housewife! Have you earned a single cent since we got married? If I hadn't supported you, would you be living this rich lady's life now?"
"You want to leave? Fine! But you're not taking a single thing from this house!" he threatened.
Back then, during his career's rise, he had persuaded me to quit my job to hold down the fort at home and I had agreed willingly. Now it all ended in mutual disgust.
The deep love from our youth had eventually turned into a dagger that stabbed me years later.
My hand holding the suitcase trembled and my voice choked slightly, "You want me to open the suitcase for you to check?"
Bobby raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze scanning over my body, "Even what's on you, I'll have to check it all."
He said again, "Kirsten, do you think I'm the only one who made mistakes? You know exactly whose baby you lost back then! If your dad hadn't knelt down and begged me, you would've walked away with nothing!"
"Of course, I'll allow you to regret it. As long as you kneel and apologize to me, I'll pretend none of this happened. You can go back to being your rich lady self, the respected professor's wife."
He was referring to that accidental pregnancy five years ago.
Because of a misaligned photo, he suspected I had cheated on him and even doubted the baby in my belly was his.
He hadn't believed a single word of my explanation and had forced me to abort the child. In the end, my father had knelt and begged him and only then did he agree not to divorce me.
They said misunderstandings can be cleared up over time, but once fate is broken, it was truly over.
I had thought that as long as I behaved and endured, one day I'd get the chance to explain everything. But looking at it now, that had all been wishful thinking.
Some misunderstandings can never be cleared, because some people never want to understand.
"Fine, check it then." With a loud swish, I opened the suitcase.
Everything spilled out onto the floor. Aside from a few clothes, I hadn't taken anything. A crystal ball rolled to Bobby's feet.
It was the gift he'd given me when we were dating in college, his token of confession. Technically, he had bought it.
As he bent down to pick it up, I swished undid my clothes, "Bobby, if you're going to check, do it quickly. My cab is still waiting outside."
This was the first time since that incident that I had spoken so harshly to him.
His hand holding the crystal ball trembled slightly and his eyes turned red, layer by layer, "Kirsten, you've got guts!"
"If you're so bold, strip completely and walk out of here with nothing on!" He hurled the crystal ball at me and the sharp shattering sound filled the entire hall.
That crystal ball, just like our love, shattered into pieces.
The people around us finally realized something was seriously wrong and wisely dispersed.
I felt a scorching gaze burning into my back, but when I turned, there was nothing.
The hall emptied out in an instant. The older female students had all returned to their rooms. Only Anita stood uneasily at Bobby's side.
"Then I'll strip for you." In just a few moves, I had taken everything off.
Anita screamed and covered her face, hiding in Bobby's arms.
I sneered, "Professor Brooke, please sign the divorce agreement. Even if I walk away with nothing, I accept it."
When Bobby heard the words walk away with nothing, he burst out laughing, "Kirsten, do you really dare leave with nothing? You've long lost touch with society. You can't even land a job that pays three to five thousand."
He said again, "Who's going to pay for your paralyzed brother's rehabilitation? And what about your dad's gambling debts? Who's going to repay them? Did you forget how your dad knelt in front of me, crying like a dog, begging me not to divorce you?"
Just a few words and he hit all my weak spots.
That was Bobby's confidence, his reason to trample on me however he pleased.
Bitterness filled my chest and for the first time I understood the consequences of the so-called 'broken windows effect.'
"Bobby, if I kneel, will you sign the papers?" Before he could respond, I had already knelt down.
After doing so many things without dignity over the years, what was one more? But that one action thoroughly enraged Bobby.
He yanked me up and dragged me into the study on the first floor. He pressed me down, tore off his tie and tied me to the leg of the desk.
***
Anita's clothes hit the floor in a second.
Bobby's rough panting echoed between pauses and papers flew through the air.
I watched the two entangled bodies and shut my eyes in pain, tears finally sliding down my face. How many times had this happened?
I couldn't even count anymore. Almost every girl he brought home ended in this same scene. And I still had to clean up after them.
I didn't know how much time had passed. My whole body was numb, gradually losing all feeling.
Until my phone kept ringing and I realized the wrecked study was empty again, "Kirsten Watson? Your dad's in our hands. If you don't bring the money by six, he won't live to see the morning sun."
My numb heart barely stirred, "How much this time?"
The man said, "Three million."
That number made me tremble. I checked the time, it was three in the morning. The darkness outside the window was thick as ink that refused to fade.
The door opened. Bobby stood there naked, a cigarette glowing red at his fingertips.
"Bobby, I need three million," I said.
He laughed, stubbed out the cigarette, locked the door and ignored me completely. That night, no matter how much I shouted or struggled, no one came to open the door. Not until six in the morning, when the sun finally rose.
Three days later, I received a call from the police, "Miss Watson, we found a male body in the southern suburbs. It's your father …"
I stared at the photo the kidnappers had sent three days earlier … The man who had raised me for over twenty years was missing all four limbs, the scene drenched in blood.
And looking at it, I laughed. Maybe it was better this way. We were all free now.
I sneaked out of the house, only to run into a car at the corner.
The window rolled down and a familiar face appeared, "I'll take you."
It was Andrew Jackson, my childhood neighbor. He didn't speak and neither did I during our ride.
He asked suddenly, "Kirsten, do you regret choosing Bobby? As long as you answer, the seat next to me is always open for you."
***
The man in that photo taken five years ago was Andrew.
Bobby had questioned me again and again, "Why does it have to be Andrew!"
That sentence was strange, like he would've accepted it if it were someone else.
I ignored Andrew and got out of the car.
After that incident, Andrew had gone abroad. I couldn't contact him no matter what.
Countless unread emails gradually destroyed my marriage and my life.
If my dad and brother were burdens, then Andrew was the final spark that burned it all down. I didn't want any of them.
The police station was crowded. Everyone moved fast, their expressions grim as if the sky had fallen.
"Has the deceased's family arrived yet?"
"Incredible. The body's been dead three days and no one reported it?"
A few officers were chatting nearby. I walked over and quietly reported my father's name.
