An 18-Year Divorce Promise

It seemed the three of them had already mapped out their future within just a few days—and I was no longer part of it.

Yet back then, it had been silently agreed that our daughter would stay with me.

After sending Lucas home, Elizabeth returned to the hotel with me, clearly preparing for a heart-to-heart talk.

"Since Destiny chose to study abroad, I think she probably prefer the lifestyle here. You can still come visit her often."

I pictured my daughter's face and felt lost. Had all my insistence been meaningless?

After a moment of silence, I lifted my head and asked, "Do you hate me? For these eighteen years? And do you think our daughter hates me?"

Understanding flickered across Elizabeth's face. "No. It was all my fault."

She always said that. She always took every bit of blame onto herself.

It was meaningless. I was tired.

"Alright," I said at last. "I'll respect our daughter's wishes. I hope you both take good care of her."

Elizabeth laughed. "Why do you sound like you'll never see her again?"

I replied casually, "I'm not used to living abroad. I prefer a quiet, ordinary life."

She had spent the past few days running wild with Lucas, yet her expression now was complicated—as if she missed something.

I turned away, went into the room, and started packing to return home. As I worked, I reminded her to come back in a little over twenty days so we could finalize the divorce completely.

She nodded.

Before leaving, she suddenly asked, "So… for these eighteen years, were you acting?"

I rolled my eyes. "Weren't you?"

She paused, then changed the subject. "Do you think I did well?"

She seemed uneasy, wiping sweat from her palms with a handkerchief—nervous, probably wondering whether she could take proper care of Lucas.

I patted her shoulder like an old friend, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. You'll do great with him."

"In every way," I added. "Including in bed."

I cared about nothing anymore, yet Elizabeth seemed oddly unsettled.

After I returned home, she began posting on social media frequently—visiting exhibitions, picnicking.

In every photo, Lucas's face was conspicuously absent.

Maybe she was being considerate since we weren't officially divorced yet.

But just like the last eighteen years, traces of him continued to permeate our life together—so tightly I could hardly breathe.

There were moments when her acting fooled me and I'd think about giving up the old promise—pretending none of it had happened and letting us walk into another eighteen years.

But I couldn't betray the version of myself who had stumbled out of the emergency room alone, barely alive.

Then I was grateful I let her go. And for my daughter's sake, letting go wasn't too late.

Sometimes Elizabeth would send me photos of Destiny, accompanied by a few lines of small talk. At first I replied. Later, I simply stopped.

I threw myself completely into work.

And soon enough, the thirty-day cooling-off period ended.

…

Elizabeth and our daughter flew back from Arment together.

When Destiny saw me, her eyes held a hint of dependence. But when I gently asked how long she planned to stay in our country, she answered without hesitation, "I'm leaving tonight."

That fast? To hurry back to accompany Lucas?

Elizabeth tried to save my pride with an explanation—something about school being important.

Looking at how drained and hollow my daughter seemed, I wondered if foreign universities were truly that exhausting.

I was tired myself and didn't dig deeper.

The three of us went to the courthouse. The clerk handed us the divorce papers and told us to sign.

I signed without hesitation.

Elizabeth glanced at me, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face.

I checked my watch. "Hurry. I'm on a tight schedule."

Even Destiny urged her. "Mom, sign it. Lucas is waiting for us for dinner tonight."

Hearing that, I felt nothing.

Elizabeth grabbed the pen in a burst of irritation and scribbled her signature before slamming the pen down.

"Are you satisfied now?"

Her warm voice, tinted with that rare sharpness, almost sounded low and rough to my ears.

I raised a brow. "I never forced you—not once."

Awkward, she touched her nose and turned toward our daughter.

"Destiny, let's go."

But Destiny didn't respond.

When I looked over, her face had gone pale. Her body trembled violently, and then she collapsed straight to the ground.

"Destiny!"

Elizabeth and I rushed to her in panic.

The clerk who had stamped our divorce papers hurried over to check her pulse.

"This is bad! She's going into withdrawal!"

Elizabeth shook her head, stunned. "That's impossible. She—she wouldn't touch anything like that. Unless it was something she ate yesterday. But the bread was from Lucas…"

She stopped speaking.