The 99th Divorce Agreement

Gary and Priscilla would be at a private theater, and they probably wouldn't come home all night.

I got out of the car, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

The living room lights suddenly flicked on.

Gary was sitting there.

For a second, I froze. Instinctively, I almost asked why he was home.

But the thought faded just as quickly as it appeared.

Without even looking at Gary, I walked past him, went upstairs, and started packing.

I didn't have much to pack. And anything connected to Gary, I left behind.

Gary followed me upstairs in silence. When he saw me packing, panic flickered briefly across his face.

"Are you going on a trip?"

I kept folding my clothes. "Yeah. Need a change of scenery."

"Where to? When's your flight? How long will you be gone?"

I casually made something up. "Clearford. The flight's tomorrow. I'll be gone for seven days."

Gary studied my face carefully, as if he was trying to catch me in a lie.

Luckily, I was good at pretending.

"Clearford, huh? Nice place."

He kept talking, clearly searching for something to say.

"Have you booked a hotel yet? I stayed at a really good one there before. Want me to reserve it for you?"

I paused for a moment.

The last time he went there had been my birthday. My mother was already seriously ill then.

I had asked Gary two weeks in advance. I begged him to spend my birthday with me.

He agreed.

But right after that, Priscilla posted a photo of two plane tickets on her social media.

The departure date was my birthday.

The familiar exhaustion washed over me again.

I shook my head slightly and answered calmly, "No need."

Anywhere Gary had stayed with Priscilla felt filthy to me.

Being rejected again and again darkened Gary's expression.

In the past, he would've already snapped at me and stormed out.

But today, maybe because of some irritation he couldn't explain, he simply pressed his lips together and stayed where he stood.

"What…"

A harsh ringtone cut him off.

Gary pulled out his phone impatiently. After one glance at the screen, his face changed.

"Priscilla was in a car accident. She's at the hospital."

He dropped the words and rushed toward the door.

Just as he stepped outside, he suddenly stopped.

"What time's your flight tomorrow? I'll drive you."

I looked up, surprised. "It's fine. I…"

"I insist," Gary interrupted me quickly.

His eyes swept over my phone, which was lying on the bed.

Right then, a notification popped up.

It was a reminder for my 10 a.m. flight tomorrow.

"I'll be here at eight," he said firmly. "I'll take you."

After giving me one last long look, he hurried out.

I stood there for a while.

Then, I calmly picked up my phone and deleted the flight information.

Luckily, he hadn't seen the destination.

It wasn't Clearford.

It was…Montara.

That night, even though I knew no one cared, I opened my social media and posted something for the first time in a long while.

[Goodbye to these past five years.]

As usual, no one liked the post.

Ever since Gary and Priscilla made their relationship public, none of my friends had reached out to me again.

Maybe they all thought I was a failure.

I didn't care anymore.

I put my phone away and slept soundly.

At 8 a.m. the next day, I took a cab to the airport.

Gary never showed up.

Before leaving, I placed the signed divorce agreement on the table and sent him a message, reminding him to check it.

At 9 a.m., I passed through security.

Gary still hadn't replied.

I opened our chat and deleted him.

At 10 a.m., I boarded the plane.

As the plane prepared for takeoff, I began deleting every photo and message related to him from my phone.

Outside the airport, a black Maybach screeched to a stop.

Gary jumped out, sweat covering his face, and rushed toward the departure gates.

He grabbed a staff member and demanded, "The ten o'clock flight to Clearford. Has it taken off? My wife is on it. Let me see her."

The staff member blinked in confusion. "Sir… There isn't a flight to Clearford today. The flight leaving now is headed to Montara."