Eight Divorces Too Many

"If you two don't get divorced today, I might as well die!" Victor yelled.

Charlotte, who had clearly planned to smooth things over and move on, panicked completely.

She grabbed my wrist in a rush, squeezing so hard that she left a deep red ring around my skin, and said in a frantic voice, "We have to pick up the divorce papers today! Victor will hurt himself if we don't!"

In that instant, I finally understood.

Even if I married Charlotte a hundred times, a thousand times, I would still never matter as much as the guy she grew up with.

-

"Okay, okay, it's done now. Let's go home."

Charlotte pulled Victor into the car.

Out of habit, I reached for the passenger door, but Victor stepped in front of me.

He pouted, visibly unhappy.

"Gregory, you and Charlotte aren't married anymore. Don't you think it's inappropriate for you to ride in her car?"

I instinctively looked at Charlotte. She frowned slightly and reached out to tug Victor back, but he shook her off.

"Charlotte, I'm only telling the truth. You and Gregory already got divorced. What are people supposed to think if they see you two riding around together? And Gregory, you're going to marry someone else eventually. Why can't you keep a little distance from your ex-wife?"

He made it sound so reasonable, every sentence neat and justified.

Charlotte could only look at me, discomfort written across her face.

"Gregory… Do you mind…"

She didn't finish, but I understood what she meant.

I bit the inside of my mouth until the soft flesh tore. When I spoke, I could taste the faint metallic sweetness of blood.

"It's fine. I'll walk back by myself."

The moment I said it, Victor got into the passenger seat with obvious satisfaction.

Before leaving, Charlotte looked at me with guilt and apology, then lowered her voice to comfort me.

"Don't take it personally. Victor's just emotional today, so he's acting out a little. Give me some time to calm him down. Once he's stable, we'll get married again. This time, we won't divorce anymore."

I didn't answer.

At Victor's urging, Charlotte drove away.

I had believed that same promise seven times already.

Every time, I believed her. Every time, I was fooled.

The first divorce happened because Charlotte forgot Victor's birthday.

The second happened because Victor lost his beloved cat.

The third happened because Victor had a nightmare and said he dreamed Charlotte didn't want him anymore after she got married.

And this time, it was because Charlotte had prepared a gift for me and not for him.

Each reason was more ridiculous than the last.

Yet every single time, Charlotte still compromised for him and gave me up for him.

Over the years, I had argued, made scenes, and fought it because I couldn't accept it.

But it always ended the same way.

After she coaxed me into calming down, she went right back to doing whatever she wanted, still bending to Victor's every move.

Now, we had divorced for the eighth time.

And I had finally let go. I gave up.

I had loved her for so many years, but even the hottest love couldn't survive being doused with cold water again and again.

I made my way back to Charlotte's house in a daze.

Before I even opened the door, I heard laughter and playful shouting from inside.

Charlotte's face was covered in flour, and white dust clung all over her clothes.

I vaguely remembered how severe her obsession with cleanliness used to be. Once, I had splashed a single drop of grease onto her while eating, and she had torn into me for it.

But now, for Victor, she could stand there covered in flour without a trace of anger.

When Charlotte saw me come back, she immediately let out a breath of relief. She took the apron off herself and hung it on me, not giving me even a second to rest.

"Gregory, you're finally back. Hurry up and make dinner. Victor and I are both starving."

Victor sprawled arrogantly on the couch and started ordering me around.

"I want beef stew today. Make sure the meat's tender."

I was so angry I actually laughed.

Then I shot back, "If you want it so badly, why don't you make it yourself? With all the time you two spent messing around, you could've cooked a whole meal."

As soon as the words left my mouth, Charlotte shoved me in a burst of fury.

My lower back slammed into the sharp corner of the dining table, and the pain broke me into a cold sweat.