The marriage lawyer didn’t ask whether Sebastian had cheated.
She asked a much simpler question.
“Do you want to remain married?”
I sat across from her for several seconds.
“No.”
It was the first time I’d said it aloud.
And strangely, it didn’t hurt.
It felt like putting down something I’d been carrying for too long.
She reviewed our financial arrangements, the prenuptial agreement, the assets acquired after marriage.
Then she asked:
“Does your husband know?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I looked out the window.
“Yesterday I still wanted him to stop me.”
“And today?”
“Today I want to stop myself from going back.”
An hour later, I went to my father’s house.
Xia Qiao was there.
Of course she was.
She sat beside my father drinking tea as though she’d never spent years abroad.
Her mother was nearby.
My grandmother wasn’t even downstairs.
I immediately understood.
“Where’s Grandma?”
My father frowned.
“Upstairs resting.”
“You said her treatment needed to be changed.”
“We can discuss that later.”
He gestured toward the sofa.
“Sit.”
I didn’t.
My father continued.
“Xia Qiao’s film premiere was very successful yesterday. Sebastian invested a great deal. Since you’re his wife, you should support him instead of embarrassing everyone by leaving early.”
I almost laughed.
So that was why I’d been summoned.
Not Grandma.
Xia Qiao.
Again.
“I’ll go see Grandma.”
“Serena.”
My father raised his voice.
“You’re over thirty. When are you going to stop behaving like a child?”
Xia Qiao immediately intervened.
“Father, don’t blame Serena.”
Father.
She had started calling him that again.
“I understand why she’s uncomfortable with Sebastian helping me.”
She looked at me.
“But Serena, Sebastian and I ended years ago. We’re only business partners now.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
She seemed surprised.
“Then we’re clear.”
I turned toward the stairs.
My father slammed his cup down.
“You need to apologize to her.”
I stopped.
“For what?”
“For making everyone uncomfortable yesterday.”
Something inside me became completely calm.
“I didn’t make a scene.”
“You threatened your marriage over an investment!”
“Two months ago.”
“And now?”
I looked at him.
“Now I’m not threatening anything.”
I went upstairs.
Grandma was awake.
Her treatment hadn’t changed.
She didn’t need money urgently.
There wasn’t even a new diagnosis.
My father had exaggerated everything to make sure I came.
When I kissed Grandma goodbye, she held my hand.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“From this house?”
I hesitated.
Then she smiled.
“Good.”
I stared at her.
She squeezed my fingers.
“You’ve spent too many years trying to earn a place in houses where you already belonged.”
My eyes burned.
That afternoon, I signed the divorce petition.
Sebastian called me at 8:17 p.m.
“Where are you?”
“Hotel.”
“Why?”
“I needed somewhere to stay.”
There was a pause.
“Come home.”
“No.”
His voice cooled.
“Serena, don’t turn yesterday into something bigger than it was.”
There it was again.
My pain was always something I had enlarged.
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
“My lawyer will contact you tomorrow.”
Silence.
“What lawyer?”
“Divorce.”
This time, Sebastian didn’t answer for almost ten seconds.
Then:
“Stop joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Because I invested in one movie?”
“No.”
“Because I gave Xia Qiao flowers?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly are you divorcing me for?”
I closed my eyes.
“Because after everything I’ve told you, you still think this is about flowers.”
He arrived at the hotel forty minutes later.
I didn’t let him into my room.
We spoke in the lobby.
He looked furious.
“You said two months ago that if I financed the film, we should break up.”
“I remember.”
“I thought you were angry.”
“I was.”
“And now you’re actually divorcing me?”
“Yes.”
His expression became unreadable.
“Do you think Xia Qiao and I are having an affair?”
“No.”
That answer unsettled him.
“I don’t.”
“Then what is this?”
I looked at the man I’d loved enough to marry despite knowing his history with her.
“I asked you for one thing.”
“What?”
“To care that something hurt me.”
He started to speak.
I stopped him.
“I never asked you to destroy her career.”
“I never asked Jin Group to blacklist her.”
“I told you what that family had done to my mother and me. I told you what it felt like watching my father repeatedly choose them.”
My voice trembled.
“And you took the one wound you understood better than anyone and told me it wasn’t relevant.”
“Business decisions can’t be based on your personal grudges.”
“I know.”
I nodded.
“That’s why I’m not asking you to change the business decision anymore.”
I held his gaze.
“I’m changing my personal one.”
For once, Sebastian had no logical answer.
Over the next month, he tried several.
He showed me financial reports proving Xia Qiao’s movie was profitable.
I agreed.
He showed me board documents proving the investment had been proposed before she returned.
I agreed.
He told me the bouquet had been arranged by the publicity department.
I believed him.
Finally, he lost his temper.
“If you believe all of that, why are you still leaving?”
“Because none of it answers the question that matters.”
“What question?”
“Why did my husband see me hurting and decide winning the argument mattered more than understanding why?”
He went silent.
The divorce continued.
Then Xia Qiao came to see me.
She didn’t pretend innocence this time.
“Sebastian loved me once.”
“I know.”
“We almost married.”
“I know.”
“He financed my movie.”
“I know.”
Her smile faded.
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“It did.”
“And now?”
“Now he’s almost my ex-husband.”
For the first time, I saw uncertainty in her face.
She had expected competition.
Jealousy.
Anger.
She had built her victory around my participation.
So I stopped participating.
“Congratulations on your film, Xia Qiao.”
I stood.
“And congratulations on whatever you think you’ve won.”
Three months later, something unexpected happened.
Sebastian withdrew Jin Group from financing Xia Qiao’s second project.
When I heard, I felt nothing.
Later he explained:
“I realized I kept telling myself the first investment was purely business because that meant I didn’t have to examine anything else.”
I looked at him.
“Do you still love her?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
He took a long time to answer.
“Because being needed by her made me feel important.”
At least that was finally honest.
“And being needed by me?”
His eyes lowered.
“I assumed you’d always be there.”
There it was.
The truth.
The divorce became final five months later.
Sebastian didn’t fight it at the end.
My father did.
He called me ungrateful.
Immature.
Jealous.
He said I’d regret throwing away a marriage to a man like Sebastian.
I answered:
“Maybe.”
Then I stopped explaining myself.
I visited Grandma separately.
I rebuilt my relationship with my mother.
I took a position in another city and bought a small apartment with enormous windows.
For the first time in years, no room in my life contained Xia Qiao.
A year later, Sebastian and I met unexpectedly at an industry dinner.
He looked at me for a long moment.
“You look different.”
“I am.”
“Happy?”
“Yes.”
He smiled faintly.
“I’ve wanted to apologize without turning the apology into another request.”
I waited.
“I’m sorry I made you compete for something that should have been yours without competition.”
My throat tightened.
Not because I wanted him back.
Because at last, he understood.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then he walked away.
I watched him disappear into the crowd and felt no desire to follow.
For most of my life, my father had taught me that love meant giving up my place gracefully whenever Xia Qiao wanted it.
Then I married a man who unknowingly asked me to repeat the same lesson.
Be mature.
Be reasonable.
Understand.
Give in.
So I did.
I gave Xia Qiao the movie.
I gave my father his preferred daughter.
And I gave Sebastian the freedom to make every business decision he wanted.
But there was one thing I finally stopped giving away.
Myself.
Because love should never require a woman to spend her whole life auditioning for a place that was supposed to be hers.
