The Runaway Groom and His Eleventh-Time Bride

The day after I was discharged from the hospital, I handed in my resignation to the orchestra director.

I'd only joined the orchestra in the first place to be closer to Tom.

He was the associate director—brilliant, magnetic—and I had been drawn in by his talent.

I gave up my job teaching at a university just to stand beside him.

For a while, I followed him everywhere, from domestic performances to international competitions.

In the beginning, he never tired of being with me. Work or downtime, we were always together.

Colleagues would joke that we were a match made in heaven—two souls perfectly in sync.

But ever since he took in a student named Laura, his time stopped belonging to me.

Now that someone else had taken my place, there was no reason for me to keep holding on.

The director looked regretful and tried to convince me to stay.

But my tone was firm, and after a long sigh, he signed off on the resignation.

Then he asked me what I planned to do next.

I didn't hide anything. I told him I'd accepted a position teaching at a university abroad.

He nodded supportively, then hesitated before asking, "Does Tom know?"

I shook my head. "Whether he agrees or not doesn't matter anymore."

The director paused, then seemed to understand.

It was obvious to everyone—Tom's world revolved around Laura now.

Hardly anyone even knew we'd been married for five years.

Without a successful wedding ceremony, people just assumed we were dating.

And if a boyfriend strayed, breaking up was the logical next step.

The director sighed again, muttering that Tom didn't know what he had just lost.

After submitting the resignation, I went back to Tom's family home to pack.

The day we registered our marriage, Tom brought me to live in his family's old house.

I'd suggested we move out and live on our own, but he begged me to stay.

He loved the noise and bustle of living among family.

I had barely packed half my things when Gina Spader knocked on the door—more than once—urging me to cook dinner.

I gave her a clear answer. "I don't have time today. And I won't be cooking for you anymore."

Gina was Tom's sister. After getting married, she'd moved back in with her whole family.

Six of them in total, each one pickier than the next when it came to food.

Her husband liked sweet, her mother-in-law salty, her father-in-law spicy.

Her two kids only wanted meat, and she herself was vegetarian.

Just cooking for them was a half-day job.

And when the food was finally done, it was always met with some sort of criticism.

Time and again, I wanted to stop. But every time I saw that bright smile on Tom's face, I hesitated.

He'd always say, "We really can't live without you. You're family now. That's why they speak so bluntly."

But now, with the divorce looming, I felt a strange sense of relief. At the very least, I wouldn't have to cater to this impossible family anymore.

Yet Gina acted like she didn't understand a word I said. She knocked again and again.

"What the hell is going on with you?" she snapped. "Everyone's hungry. We're all waiting for you to make dinner!"

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I headed for the door, no longer interested in responding.

She blocked my path.

"Seriously, what's your problem?" she barked. "Just because Tom missed the wedding again? It's not even the first time! Why are you acting so dramatic? You two are already married. What difference does a ceremony even make?"

I pushed past her.

"I'm not making a scene. And I won't be, ever again. I get it now—my life, my feelings… they never mattered to your family. And I've stopped caring too. If you want someone to cook for you, ask Laura. I'm done."