Part 2I Want a Divorce, But My Husband Wants to Play Games

A night of absolute absurdity.

When I woke up again, the person beside me was gone.

On the nightstand sat a glass of milk, a sandwich, and a sticky note left by Arthur, its words brimming with gentle concern.

Since we got married, Arthur had faithfully played the role of a good husband.

I often had the illusion that I was actually loved.

But reason always reminded me of the truth.

The person Arthur liked was Chloe Thorne.

She was the one who was supposed to marry him in this arranged union.

But my always impulsive, free-spirited younger sister ran away.

I heard Arthur chased her all the way to the airport that day. For some unknown reason, he ultimately didn't get on that flight to France.

Because he was acting out of spite.

Later, when our families tried to shove me—the older sister he barely knew—onto him, he didn't resist.

It was only when I excused myself to the restroom that, faced with the relentless teasing of his relatives, he finally showed a hint of exhausted indifference:

"Do I even have the right to refuse?

"You've all already decided. I don't care."

Because it wasn't the person in his heart, anyone else would do.

On our wedding day, the first thing Arthur said to me was:

"If you ever want a divorce in the future, you can have one anytime."

I just didn't expect that, a mere two months after the wedding, Chloe would come back.

I've always known my place.

Ignoring the breakfast on the nightstand, I picked up my phone and called Mia, my lawyer friend.

"Prepare a divorce agreement for me."

I heard the lawyer's exaggerated gasp on the other end.

The sun was shining brightly outside the window, but suddenly, it started to pour rain.

I couldn't help but space out.