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.

He didn't notice. Instead, he kept carrying me toward the emergency room.

The speed and the dizzying sense of weightlessness made it impossible to tell how fast we were moving.

All I remembered was the cold and tense look on his face, exactly the same as the day we lost our child.

The only difference was that now, he was finally going to have a child. He should be happy.

After what seemed like an eternity, the steady drip of an IV gradually came into focus beside me.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was Ryland sitting beside my bed, peeling an apple.

The moment he noticed I was awake, he immediately set the apple down and hurried over to tuck the blanket around me.

Concern laced his voice, mixed with a trace of reproach.

"You're awake? When are you going to learn how to take care of yourself? You had a fever and didn't even realize it."

Yeah, I was foolish enough that I couldn't even take care of myself.

That's why I lost our child and my husband.

Now, it seemed there was nothing left for me to lose.

My lips parted, and the words finally came out.

"Ryland, let's get divorced."

His hand paused for a moment. Still, he didn't look at me.

"Why are you bringing that up? Aren’t we already divorced? If you're in a hurry to remarry, we can move the date up a few days," he spoke quickly.

Whenever he'd talked about things like this in the past, he'd always been calm and completely certain of himself.

I sighed, a bitter smile playing on my lips. "No need. Let's stick to the original date."

I wouldn't be showing up anyway.

Because of my fever on top of my existing health issues, I ended up staying in the hospital for nearly two weeks.

Ryland visited a few times during that period, just not very often. I no longer expected anything from him. Whether he came or not made no difference to me.

The day I was discharged, Ryland had originally promised to pick me up.

However, after I'd packed my things that morning, he called and said something had come up and he couldn't make it.

I didn't ask where he was going. It wasn't any of my business anymore.

Carrying my belongings, I completed the discharge paperwork and headed for the elevator.

A young woman rushed past me excitedly and accidentally bumped into my shoulder. She was holding a medical report.

Beaming, she said to the man beside her, "Look, honey. The doctor said our baby is perfectly healthy."

The man's face lit up with joy. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, as though he were embracing his entire world.

For a moment, I saw my younger self in her, but she wasn't me.

The man standing in front of her, though, was the Ryland I used to know.

Lowering the brim of my hat, I walked past them without stopping, not wanting to have anything to do with them.

Back at home, I packed up all my belongings.

Twenty years of knowing each other and eight years of marriage. In the end, everything I owned fit into two suitcases.

I had wondered before whether I should never have fallen in love with him, but maybe it wouldn't have mattered who I'd loved.

Men were never satisfied.

At last, the dream I'd carried since I was young had finally ended. Only now, like a bird suddenly freed from its cage, I had no idea where I was supposed to fly.

Looking at the plane ticket I'd booked weeks ago, I changed the departure time to the first flight the next morning.

There were still around ten days left before the date Ryland expected us to remarry. He was probably too busy enjoying the prospect of becoming a father to come looking for me.

That meant I could leave without looking back.

Early the next morning, I climbed into a car bound for the airport, suitcase in hand.

Just after we pulled away, a Maybach that had no reason to be anywhere near my house sped past us.

Through the half-open driver's window, the man behind the wheel caught sight of my profile.

A screech of brakes split the air.

The sharply dressed man threw open the door and jumped out, then he started running toward me.

"Cammie! Where are you going?!"

I smiled calmly and turned to the driver. "Could you drive a little faster? I'm in a hurry."