Part 1Seven Years to Ashes

I learned my son wasn't biologically mine, yet everyone was convinced I wouldn't leave. After all, I'd willingly given up my status as the scion of a powerful capital family to move in with her, becoming, in everyone's eyes, a kept man for seven long years.

On our wedding day, my wife abandoned me yet again, choosing instead to join her childhood sweetheart in celebrating our son's full-month banquet. Amidst the mocking stares of every guest, I didn't raise a fuss, didn't scream. I simply, quietly, bought a plane ticket out of the country.

* * *

It took a full three days for Seraphina's call to finally come through. Before I could even speak, a man's voice, smooth and apologetic, cut in.

"Arthur, my friend, I'm truly sorry. The past few days marked the anniversary of my late wife and child. I haven't been in the best state of mind." His voice dipped with feigned sorrow. "Sera was just too worried about me, so much so that she missed the wedding. I’ve already had a word with her about it." He paused, a theatrical sigh. "And that social media post? Sera put it up to comfort me. It's already deleted. Please, don't take it to heart."

Then, his voice softened, directed at Sera. "Sera, darling, you too. A wedding is such a monumental occasion, how could you just leave? You're a mother now; you can't be throwing childish tantrums like when we were kids. I can spoil you rotten forever, but can Arthur?" A pause, a hint of false benevolence. "Be a good girl. Let's pick a new date to re-do the wedding. I'm much better now. I'll be fine alone."

His words, seemingly reproachful, were as soft and sickeningly sweet as treacle. My stomach churned. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, Seraphina's voice, laced with a coyness I'd never heard her use for me, purred, "William, if you send me away again, I truly won't come back! Your mood's only just improved a little; how could I possibly leave you alone at a time like this?"

I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat. In front of me, she was always the distant queen, her words like royal decrees.

"Seraphina," I cut in, my voice tight. "Since your William needs your care so much, you don't need to come back. I'll prepare the divorce papers and mail them to you." I couldn't bear another second of their saccharine flirtation.

"Arthur Sterling!" Seraphina's voice exploded. "How long are you going to blow things out of proportion? Are you never going to stop? Are you really threatening me with divorce again?" Her words tumbled out in a furious torrent. "Didn't you hear William? The past few days were the anniversary of his wife and child's death! What's wrong with me taking our son to comfort him? Can't you have a little perspective? I'm not some caged bird you can control!"

I pressed my lips together. I was used to this. "I'm not your caged bird!" – that was Seraphina's favorite line. My concern was limiting her freedom. My cautiously offered suggestions were binding her hands and feet. In the past, when she uttered those words, I would immediately begin to reflect. Had I been too controlling? Then, I would humbly apologize, promising to give her all the freedom she desired.

But we were husband and wife, living together for seven years. How had concern become a restriction on her freedom?

"Seraphina, this time, I'm serious."

This time, on a wedding day I had meticulously planned and eagerly anticipated for so long, the bride had simply vanished. When my son was held in another man's arms, and my wife nestled happily by his side, I was truly, irrevocably tired.

Perhaps sensing the chill in my voice, Seraphina faltered, her tone softening almost imperceptibly. "Arthur, you're truly overthinking this. The past few days were a difficult time for William. I was worried he might do something drastic, so I took our son to cheer him up. The wedding can be rescheduled anytime. This time, I'll let you decide everything, okay? And as for that social media post, I've already deleted it. It was just a few photos. William is, after all, the baby's godfather; it's perfectly natural to take some family photos. Arthur, why do you have so little empathy?"

William Vance. Seraphina's childhood sweetheart. And her first love at sixteen.

William's voice, dripping with false humility, drifted from the phone. "Arthur, every mistake, every fault, is mine. Seraphina was only trying to help me. If only you could forgive us, I would crawl on my knees to your house, prostrate myself every three steps, whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness."

Crawl on his knees? Prostrate himself every three steps? He had the nerve to say that.

I scoffed. "Go on, then. I won't ask for both. Just pick one." My voice was laced with an icy challenge. "You'd better hurry with that apology. The divorce papers will be ready by this afternoon."

My words hung in the air, and silence descended on the other end of the line. William had merely been speaking out of habit, never expecting me to take him up on it. He stammered for a moment before Seraphina snatched the phone.

"Arthur Sterling! How can you, a grown man, be so petty and shrewish? William only said that to try and smooth things over, and you're wicked enough to demand he actually kneel and apologize? Besides, you should be apologizing! I haven't even brought up your nasty comments under that social media post! Because of your comments, how many people have called me and William these past two days? William was already emotionally fragile, and you just made it worse! And now you have the nerve to bring up divorce? Fine! Divorced it is! Just don't come crying to me later!"

A torrent of accusations, and before I could respond, she hung up.