Divorced for the 9th Time

I had finally stopped hating Carla… and started hating Jake instead.

If I were only ever a substitute, why did he spoil me so thoroughly? Why make vows at the wedding?

If he had loved me even once, why did he divorce me time and again? And if the love was truly gone, then what was the meaning of each reconciliation?

The truth was long overdue: the so-called bonds of marriage were nothing more than his petty games with Carla.

Shaking off the memories, I quieted Hannah's chatter and glanced at my phone.

Tomorrow, I would leave.

A small surge of joy rose in me. Being an ex-wife should end in these last twenty-four hours. After that… I would be a stranger.

To prevent Jake from interfering, I moved out of my apartment early and checked into a hotel.

I never expected the first call I'd receive to come from Carla.

I had heard her voice on Jake's phone before—soft, gentle. But now, it was sharp and vicious.

"Alison. So this is how ruthless you really are."

I inhaled sharply. All those years of compromising and appeasing in their story, and this was the judgment I got.

"Carla, if you can't speak properly, maybe you should donate your mouth," I shot back, adopting the ruthless persona she accused me of.

"I don't know what tricks you used. But this time… you did win a little." She ignored my sarcasm, her tone tinged with disappointment.

"Jake married you nine times—every single time—to spite me," she said.

I felt a small pang, because I knew it was true.

"But what does it matter? Whenever I return, he'll obediently divorce you. I thought that would happen this time too. But…" She hesitated, finally saying the possibility I had tried not to consider.

"But this time, he argued with me on his own, so many times. Men are ridiculous. He says he loves me the most. But he can't fool me. In the end, you, the substitute, walked straight into his heart."

I refused to believe her words, marveling instead at her self-doubt. Still, I couldn't resist a mocking tone.

"So… are you scared?"

Her voice shifted suddenly into brazen laughter.

"Scared? Alison, I proposed marriage to him. Guess whether he agreed?"

I sighed and hung up. I had always known Carla's place in Jake's heart.

That year, when he carried me off the track, I saw a tattoo of her name on his neck.

That year, the textbooks he used to tutor me had pink covers, with her name written on them.

That year, the fund he used to ruin the scam company on my behalf was called the Carla Fund.

He had been woven into every moment of my youth. But Carla remained his lifelong shadow.

That night, even knowing Jake wouldn't call, I sat on the hotel sofa, staring at my phone all night.

The day that should have been our tenth wedding day, but I was leaving instead.

At seven in the morning, I hailed a taxi to the airport.

Jake hadn't messaged. I opened his Instagram profile and deleted it.

At eight, after going through the immigration gates, still no call. I opened his number again and added it to the blacklist.

At nine, I boarded the plane, deleting every photo and message connected to him.

My phone rang—it was Hannah. I answered.

But the voice on the other end wasn't hers. It was Jake—panicked, trembling, almost on the verge of tears.

"Alison… where are you?"