Glory Gone

“Did you think I married you out of love? Every moment with you makes me sick. Your mother killed my mother, and I am going to make you pay for it.”

Jaime hated me, so she kept pushing my limits.

I endured everything out of guilt and gave in every time. I crushed my dignity again and again.

I gained nothing in the end. I lost the only family I had left in this world.

I knew Jaime would not answer my calls. The divorce needed to be discussed face to face.

I sent the divorce agreement to Derek’s house because Jaime had to be there.

As expected, she called me as soon as the delivery was signed for. “What does this divorce agreement mean? Do you still want your mother’s drug?”

Jaime always used this to threaten me. She believed I would never divorce her as long as my mother needed the drug, and she believed she could do whatever she wanted.

I looked at the death certificate in my hand. My voice sounded hoarse. “No. I do not need it anymore.”

My emotionless reply surprised her, but she soon laughed in a sharp, mocking tone. “Joseph, did you fall off the cliff and break your head? Looks like you learned a few tricks these past few days. Have you decided to give up?”

A dull sadness spread through me, and I let out a small, self‑mocking laugh.

My mother was dead. She no longer needed Jaime’s drug, and Jaime could no longer threaten me.

Jaime noticed my silence and softened her tone. “It is only medication. I will give it to you. Wait for me to come home tonight.”

She hung up as if she were doing me a favor.

She did not return until midnight. The moment she walked in, I smelled strong alcohol and perfume on her.

She saw me sitting in the living room and did not greet me. She sat down a short distance away.

Jaime tilted her head back, and I saw her neck covered in marks from Derek. “I thought you would stay in the hospital forever. I did not expect you to be discharged so soon.”

Her tone stayed sarcastic. She glanced at my bandaged arm and tossed me a bag. “This month’s medication.”

I stared at the bag without speaking.

Jaime frowned at my lack of reaction. “What do you want?”

I threw the bag back. “I do not need it anymore. Take it. I will not need it again.”

Jaime paused and blinked her long eyelashes, surprised by my words. She knew I had risked my dignity and life to save my mother. She quickly recovered and scoffed. “Joseph, do not play games with me. I told you. Your mother killed my mother. You will suffer for the rest of your life.”

Her eyes were bloodshot, and the hatred in them was clear.

I sighed, feeling completely drained. “Since you hate me so much, let us get a divorce. That way you will not feel irritated every time you see me.”

I meant every word.

My mother was dead, and I had been diagnosed with late‑stage leukemia. Nothing held me back anymore. I would rather leave than continue this life with Jaime.

“Does your mother know this? She wanted us to live well and give her a grandson before she dies.” Jaime still did not take me seriously. Her gaze drifted to the closed bedroom door as she smiled.

“Your mother is in poor health. Are you not afraid she will die of anger if you threaten to divorce me?”

My mother had always treated Jaime like her own daughter. That was why she could not accept Jaime’s affair. She often told me to be kinder to Jaime because she felt guilty for failing to save Jaime’s mother.