The Last Divorce

She was smarter than I was.

She wouldn't keep falling for the same man over and over again—not nine times.

When I got into the car, Ryland happened to be on the phone.

The syrupy sweet conversation on the other end made my skin crawl, so I cracked the window open to let in some fresh air.

The late-night wind of deep winter sliced across my face like a blade, yet I felt no pain at all.

Maybe my feelings for Ryland were the same. After traveling a long road from disappointment to heartbreak, they had finally reached despair.

Once he finished coaxing his girlfriend and hung up, Ryland turned toward me. His gaze was unusually gentle. Unfortunately, that tenderness belonged to someone else.

"Why did it take longer than usual today?" he asked. "Was this one more difficult?"

The way he questioned me sounded less like a husband and more like a boss checking on an employee's performance, evaluating how efficiently I'd handled the breakup of his latest girlfriend.

I lowered my eyes and said softly, "Not really. It's just been a busy year. I'm a little tired."

Ryland chuckled and reached over to pat my head, almost indulgently. "Perfect timing, then. We're finally on holiday. Get some rest. I'll take you to the Maldivis for a holiday."

A holiday?

By then, I wasn't even sure what our relationship would be.

Going on vacation together wouldn't exactly be appropriate.

I leaned away from his hand and pulled the divorce papers I'd already prepared from my bag, then I handed them to him.

A flicker of confusion crossed Ryland's face. After all, he had initiated every previous divorce.

Whenever I saw divorce papers in the past, I would cry so hard I could barely breathe.

Nonetheless, his surprise lasted only a moment before his phone rang again.

Instinctively, I turned my head away, unwilling to listen.

To my surprise, Ryland declined the call. Then he started the car and drove us to the venue.

Before the New Year's Eve fireworks that would publicly declare his love for another woman, there was still a Webster gala dinner to attend.

For formal occasions like this, Ryland always brought me, and only me. He understood exactly what value every woman in his life held, and he knew perfectly well that I was the most obedient one.

I was obedient enough to remarry him every single time after eight divorces. However, this time was different.

As I held onto Ryland's arm, I glanced down at the flight information on my phone.

Ryland, this is where we end.

After confirming my departure time, I slipped my phone back into my purse.

What I didn't notice was that Ryland had caught a glimpse of the screen. He smiled.

"Are you really that eager to go to the Maldivis with me?" His arm tightened around my waist, his tone intimate and affectionate.

How ridiculous. In his eyes, I was still a canary trapped inside a gilded cage, one that would never fly away.

I didn't respond. Instead, I walked into the gala venue.

The Webster gala dinner was packed with prominent figures from every corner of society.

Conversation flowed alongside the clink of glasses. Ignoring everyone else's attempts to toast him, Ryland focused entirely on picking the green onions out of my food, one piece at a time.

He did it so carefully, as though he weren't the man who had just divorced me for the ninth time, and as though he weren't about to light up the entire city for another woman.

He truly was a remarkable actor. He deceived those young women with their innocence and deceived me with promises of forever.

I remembered what he'd told me after our first divorce: I was the only person he loved and that the women outside our marriage meant nothing and were just a bit of fun.

I believed him.

How pathetic.

Not wanting to dwell on the past any longer, I decided to step outside for some air and clear my head.

Just as I was about to stand, Ryland pressed a hand over mine. "Stay here and drink with everyone. I need to take care of something."

I looked into his calm eyes, and my chest suddenly tightened.

Whenever Ryland was present, nobody ever expected me to drink. No one would even try to pressure me because he knew how much I hated alcohol.

I stared at the glasses of strong liquor being raised toward me one after another. Then I let out a quiet laugh and drained my glass in a single swallow.

That night, I lost track of how much I drank. All I remembered was stumbling outside in a haze, looking for Ryland so he could take me home.

Nevertheless, no matter where I searched, I couldn't find him.

The freezing wind rushed into my chest.