That 'aunt' I had been calling for the past five years was the perfect cover story, ready and waiting.

The fireworks show was not going to stop for me, and soon enough, I was forgotten.

However, then, as if on cue, the skies opened up, and it poured.

Yvan was quick to react. "Wren's not well, she can't be out in this rain, please step aside."

He carefully guided Wren to the safety of the car.

There I was, left standing alone as the rain came down hard.

The cold should have cut right through me, but it did not.

Maybe it was the five years of marriage that had taught me how to weather any storm.

…

I got home and washed away the chill with a long, hot shower.

I stepped into the living room just in time to bump into Yvan.

He paused, then, to my surprise, he actually thanked me. "However, I still owe you one for bailing me out earlier.

"We're... well, we're secretly married. Blowing our cover right there would've been bad for Wren's rep. I'll find a way to go public with our things later on."

I did not bother to tell him there was no 'later on' for us. Our marriage was pretty much over, and it seemed best to pretend it never happened, for both our sakes.

Then he remembered to ask about me. "However, hey, what were you doing there?"

I just smiled, watching him squirm for a bit before I answered. "Your assistant, Mr. Rogers, sent me."

That was when he recalled the fireworks show he had promised me, the one he had forgotten because he was too caught up playing sweethearts with Wren.

"I'm so sorry, next week… I can't next week. I've got a trip. How about next month? I'll make it up to you, promise."

I just shook my head. "We'll see."

Yvan seemed happy with my response and pulled me into a hug. It was the most distant hug I had ever felt.

He did go on that business trip, alright, and he took Wren with him.

They did all the things he would never do with me: romantic dinners, museum tours, and those seafood stalls he said were too low-class for a CEO like him. However, with Wren, he was just a regular guy, head over heels.

Three days left.

Yvan finally returned. I had not tried to reach him once while he was away.

He gazed at the pristine villa, and it was like he suddenly saw all the effort I had poured into our five-year marriage. "Honey, you've been amazing," he said.

Five years, and I could not even recall the last time he had called me that.

"I wanted to take you to the fireworks show the day after tomorrow, but I've been swamped…"

I knew the truth. He just did not want to take me to the fireworks. Wren must have whispered something in his ear.

"Let's just forget it."

Yvan paused, taken aback, as if he had not expected me to give up so easily.

"You're… okay with this?"

In the past, I would have lost it, demanding to know why he never kept his promises.

However, his empty words meant nothing to me. "It's just fireworks. No big deal if we skip it."

Just like Yvan himself, I could do without.

The silence stretched between us until Yvan broke it. "How about this? The day after tomorrow, I'll take you to check out that villa on the west side of town. They say you can see floating candles on the lake from there, and it should be a great view."

I glanced at my phone, the calendar reminding me that the day after tomorrow was Valentine's Day.

Would he actually show up on such a significant day? He was probably just trying to smooth things over.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Wren that day?"

Yvan's face tensed for a split second before he managed. "I've spent enough time with her. It's your turn."

The words hung awkwardly in the air, and he looked down, clearly feeling the weight of their absurdity.

I did not call him out on his lie. Instead, I played along with his act.

After all, that day was set to be our last as a married couple.

It had its own kind of significance.

…

The final day was ticking away.

Yvan had been a no-show since our last conversation.

He must have been busy keeping Wren calm.

However, at night, he would share the day's random bits and pieces with me.

Celebrity rumors, a stray cat spotted on his walk, and the latest viral memes.

It was like we were any other long-distance couple, passing the time with chit-chat about nothing much at all.

Yet, after five years of marriage, Yvan and I had never really opened up about the stuff that mattered.

I could not figure out why he had started that out of the blue, and frankly, I did not care to.

I had been swamped with moving those last few days, shipping box after box to my new place in Cascade City.

I had even dealt with the realtors, leasing out a hundred properties I owned.

All that must have caught his attention because that night, he rang me up. "Heard from Mr. Rogers you're moving?"

I answered without much thought, "Yeah, remember I mentioned heading to the west side of town? I'm fond of that area."

Yvan hesitated, then offered, "You know, setting off fireworks there wouldn't be a bad idea."

I laughed it off. "No need. I'm good."

He seemed to ease up. "Alright, then meet me there tomorrow night."

I gave a noncommittal grunt, just as my phone buzzed with the confirmation of my flight booking.

However, Yvan, as if he had a sixth sense, insisted, "Make sure you wait for me."

I agreed. "Sure."

However, the following night, he was a no-show.

His assistant, Kent, sheepishly told me Yvan was tied up in a meeting and would be late.

However, there it was on social media: Wren setting floating candles adrift on a lake, with Yvan right there behind her.

I checked the time, my flight was in four hours.

The divorce papers would be final in two.

I doubt I'll ever get to tell him the news face-to-face.

Three hours to go.

Here I am, standing in the villa Yvan gave me, gazing out at the river.

Candles drift on the water, heading out to sea. I wonder if he and Wren set one of those afloat.

His promise from yesterday makes me chuckle. If he knew that was my last time waiting for him to come through, would he rush back?

Back in my room, I glance at the petite suitcase in the living room. I owned very little.

Especially there.

That villa was his way of saying sorry for the hundredth time.

Somehow, leaving it behind felt right.

Two hours left, and my lawyer's email pops up.

[Congratulations, Ms. Shaw, on your divorce. We'll send the divorce papers over.]

With one hour to go, I held the papers in my hands.

It was official. My marriage had become history.

I grabbed my suitcase, ready to head out.

The highway to the airport was clogged.

In the car, I caught sight of Yvan speeding westward.

I looked away, knowing that brief crossing of paths was our goodbye.

However, Yvan slammed on his brakes and looked right at me…