Mom was about to say something when my quick agreement stunned her. It seemed that was entirely out of her expectations.
Even Dad, who was ready to blow his top, was taken aback.
After all, the past me would never have agreed to a divorce even if they threatened to beat me to death.
Before they could recover from their shock, I added, “I’m still not fully recovered and don’t feel like moving around—I don’t think I’ll go with you to apologize. Once Irvin drafts the divorce agreement, have his lawyer bring it straight to me.”
With that, I pulled the covers over my head and lay down.
The soaked quilt felt suffocating, and I felt like I was struggling to catch my breath. Still, it was better than facing my parents’ impending joy.
My parents knew me well enough to realize I wasn’t bluffing. Though they were incredulous that I agreed so readily, they understood that I genuinely wanted a divorce.
Hence, it didn’t take long before their kindness and affection surfaced.
“You silly child, you’ve finally come to your senses. Rest well if you’re tired; you don’t have to move around if you don’t want to. I’ll have Clara come over and take care of you. Leave all the work to her; you just relax!”
Meanwhile, Dad placed a card on my bedside table. “This card contains 100 grand. Use it as you please! If you need more, just let me know. You’re still young; once you’re healthy again, good days are ahead.”
Every time they made me sacrifice for Julianne, they’d treat me nicely afterward.
Probably eager to share the good news with her, they left quickly after a few words of advice. Once I confirmed they were gone, I let out a sigh of relief.
Supporting myself with the headboard, I slowly climbed out of bed.
Despite the heating on full blast, I couldn’t stop shivering. Frankly speaking, it was only expected after being drenched by two buckets of cold water.
I wanted to rush to the bathroom for a hot shower, but even walking was a struggle.
I used to love looking in the mirror after a shower. I would take a moment or two to enjoy admiring my body—especially my smooth, fair skin. But now, I couldn’t even bear to glance at my reflection.
“Riddled with scars” would have been an understatement for my current state.
…
In Elmswood Villa, Irvin fell onto the couch, loosening his tie. His handsome face was etched with fatigue.
Julianne’s fragile constitution left her restless after any disturbance. Irvin was already sleep-deprived but endured another sleepless night to keep her company. Now, he was suffering from a splitting headache.
On top of that, he hadn’t had much to eat after the heavy drinking at the bar last night. He could feel an ache building up in his abdomen.
Frowning, he asked, “Emilia, where’s the medication box? Can you bring me an antacid? Also, make me some porridge, something easy on the stomach. My stomach hurts.”
Normally, it wouldn’t take long for me to rush over and greet him when he returned home. As soon as he stepped through the main doors, I would fuss over his needs until he’d get annoyed and tell me to stop.
But today, he received no response. His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply, and his tone grew impatient. “Emilia?”
Still, he didn’t get a response.
Just then, Maureen White, our maid, walked out of the kitchen. He turned to her. “Where’s Emilia? Is she not home?”
Maureen hesitated, unsure how to respond.
I hadn’t been home for over three months. How was Irvin only asking now? Bit late, wasn’t it?
Upon learning that I hadn’t returned, Irvin massaged his temples. He wondered if I hadn’t turned up at all after being discharged from the hospital.
To him, we had been fighting for over three months, yet he had been generous enough to tolerate my shenanigans. Even when I threatened a divorce the day before, he hadn’t given in. He couldn’t believe I still hadn’t realized my mistake.
Last night, I had sincerely sent him and Julianne my blessings and insisted on a divorce. Recalling this now, Irvin felt his headache intensify.
He was convinced I was making a big deal out of nothing. He didn’t take my talk of divorce seriously at all.
