I've been married to Ryland Webster for eight years. In that time, we got divorced nine times.

I met every woman he dated after our wedding. Whenever he grew tired of someone and wanted out, I became his favorite excuse.

"If you marry him, you'll end up like me," I told them. "Cleaning up his messes, signing divorce papers over and over, and walking away with nothing."

On New Year's Eve, I sat beside another woman he'd abandoned, handing her tissues as she cried.

Across the city, Ryland was setting off a fireworks display for his newest girlfriend.

As I watched her sob through an entire box of tissues, I saw a younger version of myself.

For the first time, I asked Ryland for a divorce. He looked genuinely confused.

"We'll be remarried in three days," he said. "Do we really need to go through this again?"

I smiled and shook my head.

No.

Not this time.

Ryland, I'm done waiting for you.

The news that Ryland Webster was putting on a fireworks show for New Year's Eve had taken the entire city of Kingsley by storm.

I was the last person to hear about it.

Everyone in Kingsley knew he was a notorious playboy. He'd even divorced me nine times over one girlfriend after another.

But a grand, public declaration of love like this? That was a first.

I stared at the mockup one of the event staff had sent over.

The words RYLAND ♥ JASMINE spelled out across the fireworks display. The sight stung my eyes.

I locked my phone and turned back to the task in front of me, picking up the pace.

"Cash, a house, a car, a yacht. Take your pick. As long as—"

"I don't want any of it!"

Before I could finish, the girl sniffled and cut me off through tears.

I'd heard those same words far too many times before. Numb to it by now, I looked at her and said calmly, "I don't love him. And you'd be better off not falling in love with him either. Someone like Ryland isn't worth it."

The first few statements were only half true.

The last one, though? I meant it with all my heart. I genuinely wanted to stop another girl from making the same mistake.

I genuinely understood that Ryland wasn't worth loving.

The girl froze for a moment, then bit her lip and shot back bitterly, "Not worth it? Then why have you stayed with him for eight years? He's divorced you so many times. Why didn't you leave him?"

I fell silent. The words that usually came so easily suddenly refused to leave my mouth.

Yeah. Why hadn't I?

Maybe because when I was eight years old, my stepmother locked me in an attic for three days and three nights.

Ryland had been the one who ignored everyone trying to stop him and rushed in to save me.

I still remembered how badly he'd been beaten afterward. He'd been beaten until his skin split open, yet he still smiled as he wiped away my tears while saying, "As long as you're okay."

Later, when I failed my college entrance exams and ended up attending a different university from him, he crossed half the country every month just to see me and remind me to eat properly, simply because he worried I wouldn't be taking care of myself.

Warm tears welled up in my eyes as I turned toward the window to hide them.

The reflection staring back at me looked remarkably similar to the girl beside me.

Suddenly, I remembered what it was about her that had felt so familiar when we'd first met.

For the longest time, I couldn't place it. Now I know. The person she reminded me of was me—the younger version of myself, whose eyes had once been full of love, the girl who never grew tired, never backed down, and only knew how to love with her whole heart.

However, that version of me was gone now, and in the end, she'd gotten nothing.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

Just then, my phone screen lit up again. It was a text from Ryland.

[Hurry up. The party's about to start.]

I knew he was getting impatient, which meant tonight's negotiation had to end now.

I quickly slid the contract across the table.

"Sign it. If you don't, they'll make you sign it anyway."

The girl still looked reluctant at first, but when she saw the number written in the agreement, she hesitated only briefly before signing her name.

When she left, she was smiling, nothing like the devastated girl who had walked in earlier.

See?

She wasn't really like me after all.

She was smarter than I was.

She wouldn't keep falling for the same man over and over again—not nine times.

When I got into the car, Ryland happened to be on the phone.

The syrupy sweet conversation on the other end made my skin crawl, so I cracked the window open to let in some fresh air.

The late-night wind of deep winter sliced across my face like a blade, yet I felt no pain at all.

Maybe my feelings for Ryland were the same. After traveling a long road from disappointment to heartbreak, they had finally reached despair.

Once he finished coaxing his girlfriend and hung up, Ryland turned toward me. His gaze was unusually gentle. Unfortunately, that tenderness belonged to someone else.

"Why did it take longer than usual today?" he asked. "Was this one more difficult?"

The way he questioned me sounded less like a husband and more like a boss checking on an employee's performance, evaluating how efficiently I'd handled the breakup of his latest girlfriend.

I lowered my eyes and said softly, "Not really. It's just been a busy year. I'm a little tired."

Ryland chuckled and reached over to pat my head, almost indulgently. "Perfect timing, then. We're finally on holiday. Get some rest. I'll take you to the Maldivis for a holiday."

A holiday?

By then, I wasn't even sure what our relationship would be.

Going on vacation together wouldn't exactly be appropriate.

I leaned away from his hand and pulled the divorce papers I'd already prepared from my bag, then I handed them to him.

A flicker of confusion crossed Ryland's face. After all, he had initiated every previous divorce.

Whenever I saw divorce papers in the past, I would cry so hard I could barely breathe.

Nonetheless, his surprise lasted only a moment before his phone rang again.

Instinctively, I turned my head away, unwilling to listen.

To my surprise, Ryland declined the call. Then he started the car and drove us to the venue.

Before the New Year's Eve fireworks that would publicly declare his love for another woman, there was still a Webster gala dinner to attend.

For formal occasions like this, Ryland always brought me, and only me. He understood exactly what value every woman in his life held, and he knew perfectly well that I was the most obedient one.

I was obedient enough to remarry him every single time after eight divorces. However, this time was different.

As I held onto Ryland's arm, I glanced down at the flight information on my phone.

Ryland, this is where we end.

After confirming my departure time, I slipped my phone back into my purse.

What I didn't notice was that Ryland had caught a glimpse of the screen. He smiled.

"Are you really that eager to go to the Maldivis with me?" His arm tightened around my waist, his tone intimate and affectionate.

How ridiculous. In his eyes, I was still a canary trapped inside a gilded cage, one that would never fly away.

I didn't respond. Instead, I walked into the gala venue.

The Webster gala dinner was packed with prominent figures from every corner of society.

Conversation flowed alongside the clink of glasses. Ignoring everyone else's attempts to toast him, Ryland focused entirely on picking the green onions out of my food, one piece at a time.

He did it so carefully, as though he weren't the man who had just divorced me for the ninth time, and as though he weren't about to light up the entire city for another woman.

He truly was a remarkable actor. He deceived those young women with their innocence and deceived me with promises of forever.

I remembered what he'd told me after our first divorce: I was the only person he loved and that the women outside our marriage meant nothing and were just a bit of fun.

I believed him.

How pathetic.

Not wanting to dwell on the past any longer, I decided to step outside for some air and clear my head.

Just as I was about to stand, Ryland pressed a hand over mine. "Stay here and drink with everyone. I need to take care of something."

I looked into his calm eyes, and my chest suddenly tightened.

Whenever Ryland was present, nobody ever expected me to drink. No one would even try to pressure me because he knew how much I hated alcohol.

I stared at the glasses of strong liquor being raised toward me one after another. Then I let out a quiet laugh and drained my glass in a single swallow.

That night, I lost track of how much I drank. All I remembered was stumbling outside in a haze, looking for Ryland so he could take me home.

Nevertheless, no matter where I searched, I couldn't find him.

The freezing wind rushed into my chest.

Pulling my coat tighter around myself, I crouched on the curb, shivering. Cars streamed endlessly down the road, yet not a single one had come for me.

I called Ryland again and again.

By the time my body felt numb with cold, a deafening boom exploded across the night sky. Brilliant fireworks bloomed overhead. The glowing declaration of love lit up the skies above Kingsley.

Passersby stopped to admire it, speculating about which lucky girl had managed to capture Ryland's heart.

Then they lowered their eyes and noticed me sitting there in disarray. Covering their mouths, they hurried away.

I let out a self-mocking laugh and looked up at the dazzling display.

Each burst of color felt like a death sentence for my marriage to Ryland.

...

Maybe it was the alcohol, but that night, I slept terribly.

One strange, fragmented dream after another drifted through my mind, until I thought I heard Ryland's voice.

"Cammie... Cammie..."

It had to be a dream. Ryland hadn't used my nickname in years.

Half asleep, half awake, I heard his voice again.

"Cammie, you have a fever. Why didn't you tell me? I'm taking you to the hospital right now. Don't be scared."

Before I could react, a sudden sensation of weightlessness swept over me.

The next time I became aware of my surroundings, I heard a car engine starting. Perhaps people are more vulnerable and more lucid when they're sick.

The entire drive, he seemed to be making call after call.

"I'm almost there. Don't worry.

"Don't be afraid. Everything will be fine.

"Be good. Listen to me."

When we arrived at the hospital, I forced my eyes open. I saw Ryland jumping out of the car and hurrying toward a slender woman standing at the top of the hospital steps. He wrapped her tightly in his arms.

I finally pieced together all those fragmented words I'd heard along the way. I now understood that none of them had been meant for me.

The distance between the car and the steps wasn't far. I watched as Ryland gently comforted her as the woman cried in grievance.

"This is my child. How could I not want it? Our baby will be born. He'll carry the Webster name. No one can change that."

Pain flooded every part of my body.

In that instant, I finally understood what made this girl different and why Ryland had been so public about their relationship.

Every step and gesture had been made at the expense of my wounds. He was stepping directly onto every scar I carried, crushing me completely and leaving no chance for me to survive.

During the first year of our marriage, we had a child too.

Because of my health, the pregnancy had always been unstable. For a while, Ryland even moved his work home so he could stay with me. He did everything he could to take care of me and the baby.

Until one day, he had to leave town for an important business meeting.

Wanting to surprise him, I secretly traveled to the city where he was staying, but I never made it there.

There was a car accident on the way.

When I woke up, the doctor told me our baby was gone. Because of the damage to my body, I might never be able to get pregnant again.

I would never forget the coldness and fury on Ryland's face that day.

"Your parents were right! You're useless! Completely useless! I never should've married you! You killed my child! My child!"

The man, who had once loved me so warmly, used the cruelest words imaginable, tearing my heart apart one sentence at a time.

Maybe our marriage had started falling apart from that moment on.

Nevertheless, for years, I clung desperately to the hope that somewhere inside our marriage, there was still a trace of love left to find.

After eight years and nine divorces, I was tired. I didn't want to keep searching anymore.

Maybe it would be easier to pretend we'd never loved each other at all.

I thought I had reached the point where nothing could hurt me anymore.

When Ryland returned after comforting her, he found me staring at him with bloodshot eyes.