Goodbye, Saintess.

I instinctively reached for my phone to confront her but stopped.

What was the point? Everything was already clear. Even if she refused to go through with the divorce, the nature of my upcoming mission was such that I might not even survive.

Why burden myself with more pain on what might be the last day of my life?

I put the phone down. I was about to shut off the laptop and leave with my suitcase when another message from Edmund appeared. This time, it was a video. The thumbnail showed him and Hera standing on a classroom stage. Once again, happiness poured from them like a flood.

Was this video new?

Quaking, I clicked play.

A teacher was introducing Hera and Edmund as Bobby's parents before offering them the stage to talk about how they had met.

Hera grabbed Edmund's hand and pulled him behind her, looking sheepish. The Saintess, who had never shown me anything but stoic composure, was blushing.

"Edmund and I were childhood friends. He was my first crush," she began. "We went to the same elementary school, middle school, high school... and eventually the same college. He didn't confess his feelings until then…"

Her blush deepened. "Before I knew it, college was over, and my arm was around his as we stepped into the church to exchange vows. He is the best thing that ever happened to me. No one else could have been as perfect as he is—and he loves me back!"

My eyes widened. Edmund was her first love? But she had told me I was her first crush. She had said she had never felt this way about anyone before and made me promise to treat her right.

I was hopelessly in love with her. I would have obliged even if I weren't her first love. I gave her everything she wanted, be it material or emotional.

And this was what I got?

It felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest and thrown to the floor again. I felt my entire being implode. I could not breathe.

I collapsed to the floor, my body trembling and my breath coming in short gasps. Meanwhile, tears blurred my vision. She had been lying to me even before we were together. Our marriage had never been filled with lies—the truth had simply never existed between us.

The video was still playing. I could hear "Oohs" and "Aahs."

Someone urged Hera to share more details about their love story, "Tell us about the romantic things he did for you!"

Romance? These people had no idea how dull Hera truly was. I had once poured effort into creating romantic moments. Each time, she showed less and less interest.

Then, she told me she hated romance. These things were distractions. Illusions, even. An Awakenist valued only sincerity.

I had believed her. That was why I had restrained my burning passion and love for her and lived the way she wanted. It was my proof of sincerity.

"Romantic things?" Hera's bashful voice drifted into my ears. "Oh, shucks. There were a lot. He's really the biggest romantic I've ever had the pleasure of meeting in my life.

"Once, he stayed up late three nights in a row to make me a handmade handbag. He was so embarrassed, he lied about winning it in a contest. He was yawning when he said that! And those eyes! His dark circles were really incriminating, believe me! I looked into those tired eyes and knew he was the one."

Hera took Edmund's hand, weaving her fingers between his, and met his gaze. "I still have that bag, by the way."

She turned to the audience again. "Another time, shortly after we married, I told him I didn't like the food served at my company. When I came home, he had prepared a feast of all my favorite dishes. Later, I found out he had searched every corner of the city for the best ingredients. He even burned his hands by accident while cooking!"

She lifted Edmund's hand and kissed it as the crowd watched.

"Then there was the time he accidentally did something funny. I felt bad for him and called him an idiot, but he said he would do it again even if he could turn back time because it made me laugh.

"Another time, when I was suffering from a high fever, he cared for me without rest for three days straight. In the end, he had to be hospitalized for exhaustion! But then he told me, 'Your life is more important than mine.'"

I could hear the crowd gasping and murmuring in envy. Their reactions cut through the air like knives on a chopping board, while my heart lay open for them to shred.

The video had much more to go, but I couldn't bear it any longer. I shut down the laptop.

Those romantic stories Hera recounted were true, but Edmund was not the one who had done those things.

"It was me. I was the one who did all of that for you!" I croaked, my voice cracking, speaking to no one in particular.

The Saintess was not without feeling. She longed for romance, joy, and little surprises. She craved love.

She was simply as distant and cold as a statue of the holiest goddess when she was with me.

She remembered everything I had done for her. All of it. But she preferred to pretend another man had done them.

That handbag I had made for her? She had thanked me like it was a part of a procedure and had never used it once. When I asked why, she said she hated the style. I had felt really bad about it and had told myself I should have learned about her fashion sense better.

The feast I had prepared for her? She had not even taken a bite. In fact, she had thrown a fit at me for preparing it. She had said wasting food and ingredients in her honor was an insult to her character as an ardent Awakenist. I had explained myself to her despite how hurt and stunned I had been, saying I just wanted her to be happy.

She had ignored me and gone on an impromptu retreat at an Awakenist monastery instead for a week. I had not even realized she had noticed the scald burns on my hands.

Now I knew. She had seen them but just had not cared.

And the story about her fever? I had taken an extended leave at work so that I could take care of her for days. She had told me to leave her alone, and I had assumed it was because she had felt bad for my efforts. Thus, I had told her her life was more important than mine.

She had been disgusted, reprimanding me, "This fever is a test, you fool! Lord Zeno is testing my faith! It's a blessing in disguise! So don't even think about stepping into my room. Your ignorance will hinder me!"

I had felt so remorseful over it that I started reading everything there was about Awakenism.

But you know what I found? Nothing! There was not a single mention of sickness being any kind of test or "blessing in disguise" in the actual doctrine.

At the time, I had assumed I had simply read the wrong books or missed out on certain resources. But now I knew that it was an excuse.

She already knew how much I had done for her. She even agreed that it was nice. The problem was that she did not want me to be the guy who had done it.

So this was why it was my fault, huh? I should not have met her.

I should not have loved her.

My tears dried, and I felt liberated. I was so glad to be able to come to the truth at a moment like this—when my survival in the upcoming mission was uncertain.

Now, I could really move on and end this farce of a union with the Saintess who had never loved me.

I asked for a paper and a pen from the front desk. Then, I wrote my farewell letter.

[Hera,

[I have made up my mind. You may disagree or argue about the timing with your religious obligations, but our relationship is over.

[I have decided to step out of your life so you and your true love can be together.

[Bobby is your biological son, isn't he? You had him with Edmund.

[What I don't understand is why you went through the exhausting act of dating me, hiding things from me, and then enduring a marriage with me for half a decade. Wasn't it suffocating? Wasn't it tormenting?

[From my side, you showed me how much of a fool I was to hold on to you for five years. I ran out of tears, but I wasn't crying for you—I was crying for myself. My heart ached for me.

[As your ex-husband, I hate you. But as a firefighter, I have no regrets about saving your life and theirs. Now, I am a firefighter again. I have an assignment to carry out.

[You can imagine I die on duty if you want, because no matter what happens, we will never see each other again.

[Take care, Hera.

[Farewell.]