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.

They gave me a sideways glance, their frowns carrying a hint of blame.

I gave the police the phone number and photo from the call and explained everything about my dad's gambling.

After ruling it a homicide, the police said they needed to continue the investigation and told me to go home and wait for updates.

"This daughter's heartless, got the message and neither raised the money nor called the police …" The whispers behind me were harsh, but I didn't seem to care anymore.

Since the case wasn't closed, the body couldn't be cremated.

I signed a few forms and by the time I left the station, it was already night. I took a cab to see my younger brother.

My brother had been beaten into paralysis because of dad's gambling debt. He was still conscious and his hands could move slightly, but the rest of his body was immobile.

The doctors said his organs were slowly failing and there wasn't much meaning left in keeping him alive.

He was lying in bed with his eyes half-closed, already asleep.

I tucked him in and quietly talked to him. About dad, about me, about him. There seemed to be no end to the things I needed to say and all the grievances I had. I didn't leave the room until the sky brightened.

I was so tired. A whole day and night passed and Bobby hadn't called me once.

When I got home, he was laughing and chatting with that group of students, discussing their business trip. They were all smiled, the atmosphere light.

I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and slapped them onto the table again.

The laughter stopped instantly. Bobby's eyes burned with rage, like he wanted to incinerate me on the spot, "You've been gone a whole day and night and you come home to give me this?"

"What … did you get that three million by selling yourself?" The things that came out of Bobby's mouth were vile.

Every word was a hooked knife, draining me of the strength to argue.

"I saw Mrs. Brooke get into a man's car yesterday morning. Look like that man is Professor Jackson who just came back from abroad." Anita rested her chin in her hand and smiled at me, her eyes flicking between me and Bobby.

The next second, Bobby stood up and slapped me across the face, "This is why you want a divorce? Just because Andrew came back, you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, huh? That night at the party, you saw him and couldn't wait to give me the divorce papers, right?"

I hadn't slept in a day and night and with that slap, my head was spinning. My heart was already dead and now completely numb.

"I even saw Mrs. Brooke kiss Professor Jackson." Anita's voice was soft and sweet, but her words were like arrows.

I clenched my teeth and held it in for a long time, but I didn't know which string finally snapped. I grabbed the chair beside me and smashed it toward Anita's head.

In that moment, the world went silent.

She cried out for help, "Mr. Brooke … help me …"

Through bloodshot eyes, I watched Bobby carried Anita out of the house. Everyone huddled together, looking at me like I was a monster, "Kirsten, you've really gone mad!"

I sat numbly in the living room until Bobby appeared again, "You hurt someone, what, you think you can just sit at home and do nothing? Anita says either you go serve her in the hospital, or she's pressing charges."

I stared at the blood on the floor in a daze and swallowed hard, "Let her sue me. I don't care if they give me the death penalty."

That careless response only made Bobby more irritated. He dragged me into the car and brought me straight to Anita.

For the next few days, I had to stay in the hospital to take care of her.

That young woman commanded me again and again, "This apple tastes bad, go buy a better one!"

"I want braised turkey and it has to be from San Diego, simmered on low heat for two hours!"