Love's Lost Ember, Fading in the Cold

I withdrew my thoughts and gave Abby Kramer a slight smile. "My family members are quite busy."

The manager sneered at my excuse but didn't press further.

Finally, I didn't get admitted to the hospital. With my examination report in hand, Abby took me home.

Before parting, I asked her to keep my illness confidential. Abby didn't understand why I wanted this but agreed, generously giving me a month off.

I smiled, considering it a silver lining in the misfortune.

The home was still cold and silent. I sat on the couch, clutching my report.

After some thought, I decided to text Wilson: [When will you be back?]

If I was going to leave the world soon, I hoped to reconcile with Wilson. I wanted to make one last effort.

Still, there was no reply.

It was fine. I could wait.

Late into the night, I heard a noise at the door.

When the light was turned on, I instinctively closed my eyes, adjusting for a few seconds before slowly opening them.

A familiar voice asked, "Why isn't the light on since you're home?"

I looked towards the voice and, about to stand up, saw a woman walking in with Wilson.

It was Celeste, his beloved.

In recent years, whatever I wanted and could get, he would give them to Celeste.

When I saw them together, my chest felt like it was being filled with a large dose of sour soda, painfully bitter.

Wilson had never brought anyone women home before.

I lost my temper at that moment.

"Get out!"

I yelled from my seat, like a beast defending its territory.

Celeste's eyes were immediately filled with tears. "I won an award today. Mr. Burch was so happy that he got drunk. I specifically brought him back. Cierra, please don't misunderstand."

I scoffed at her blatant show-off, no longer willing to suppress my jealousy and bitterness. "Since you've brought him back, you can leave now."

The next moment, Celeste's tears fell, her red lips pressed together stubbornly.

Wilson looked at me with growing impatience. "Cierra, have I been too nice to you lately, making you forget your place?"

In that instant, it felt like a thousand arrows pierced my heart. My anger surged uncontrollably.

"What is my place? Wilson, tell me, what is my place? Mrs. Burch? A Mrs. Burch who can be bullied by anyone?"

Wilson's face darkened, his eyes filled with disdain, and his mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

His words devastated me. He hated me. To him, my grievances were just melodrama.

Instantly, I felt utterly defeated and exhausted. I no longer wanted to argue. I hid the report in the couch cushion and closed my eyes, resigned.

"Wilson, let's get a divorce."

The fatigue that ran deep in my heart had sapped me of the strength to even defend myself.

After seven years, I had not warmed his heart, and my passion had been completely drained.

Now that I was about to die, so be it.

Whatever.

The sound of footsteps approached. In the next moment, he was in front of me, leaning down to grip my chin, his voice cold.

"Divorce is never something you decide."

I looked into his angry eyes and smiled lightly, "But Wilson, I'm done with this marriage game. I don't want to play along anymore."