Chapter 3

The air was silent, the atmosphere incredibly awkward.

A friend tried to break the tension.

"Elena, Julian still loves you the most. Anyone else is just a passing phase."

Chloe's eyes were red from crying, and Julian gently wiped her tears.

He pulled her into his arms, patting her back to comfort her.

Then, in front of everyone, he ripped the appointment slip to shreds.

"Elena, she needs me."

I thought I wouldn't feel pain anymore, but my throat tightened and my eyes stung.

I turned my back and looked up, forcing the tears back.

Composing myself, I turned around with a bright smile.

"Fine. Let's get a divorce then."

Julian's pupils dilated, and he froze.

He thought I would just endure it. After all, in the eyes of the wealthy, marriage was just a transaction of interests.

And he knew I loved him.

A flicker of reluctance showed in his eyes. He stepped forward and grabbed my hand to stop me.

"Elena, we don't have to go this far. If we divorce, you'll have nothing."

"You're not the popular college belle everyone chased after anymore. In your thirties, you won't find anyone better than me."

"Besides, I still love..."

I interrupted him impatiently.

"Stop lying. You've been lying to me from the very beginning."

"If you really loved me, why did you never tell me that you made peace with your father long ago?"

"Did you enjoy watching me humble myself to please your parents? Did you find it funny?"

For ten years, I had lived in guilt, believing I was the reason he broke ties with his family.

Every holiday, I racked my brain to pick out the perfect gifts, walking on eggshells to please his parents.

But what did he do?

He watched from his high horse as his father rejected me to my face, enjoying my embarrassment and the humiliation they heaped on me.

Julian was speechless. He had always thought he kept it a secret.

But he didn't expect me to know everything.

Indeed, when did I stop smiling?

When did I start hating his touch and his closeness?

Everything had left a trail. If he were still the twenty-year-old Julian, he would have noticed in an instant.

I handed him the ninth mystery box, rubbing my temples tiredly.

"Open it."

He seemed to guess what it was. His hands trembled, and he didn't dare to open it.

Chloe excitedly snatched it and tore it open.

Seeing the words "Divorce Agreement," her eyes lit up. She had waited so long for this day.

"Julian, now I can finally be with you openly!"

"Sign it, and you'll be free."

She turned to look at me, crossing her arms with a smug, arrogant expression.

"Old woman, Julian is finally rid of you."

She took a step closer and whispered in my ear, her words dripping with venom.

"Julian said you smell like an old person. It's disgusting."

"You should really work out. Your skin is so saggy. Julian said every time he touches you, it feels like touching rotting meat."

"You saw that underwear behind our wedding photo, right? Julian said every time he slept with you, he stared at it and pictured me just to get through it."

Without blinking, I grabbed a wine bottle from the table and smashed it over her head.

The wine poured down her body, sticky and disgusting.

She could no longer maintain her elegant act. She wailed loudly, burying herself in Julian's arms.

"Julian, my stomach hurts so bad! She's trying to kill me and the baby!"

"You have to avenge me!"

Blood trickled from her forehead, staining Julian's sleeve.

His brow furrowed slightly, but then he scooped Chloe up in his arms.

"Stop acting crazy. I'm taking her to the hospital."

"Julian, we'll talk about the divorce later."

I stood in front of him, refusing to budge an inch.

"Sign it."

His face was incredibly dark, his voice cold and hard.

"Do you really have to push me this far?"

My silence was his answer.

He glared at me, his Adam's apple bobbing, and snatched the pen.

He scribbled his name on the agreement, pressing so hard he almost ripped the paper.

As soon as he finished the last stroke, he threw the pen onto the table and turned to leave.

In his arms, Chloe covered her mouth, her eyes crinkling with a smug smile.

I smiled too.

As the clock struck midnight, my ten-year marriage came to an end.

I closed my eyes and whispered to my twenty-year-old self.

"I'm sorry. To the girl whose eyes were once filled only with him... I loved the wrong person."

When I opened my eyes again, I was smiling.

"It's okay. I'm only thirty. Starting over is still in time."

Feeling at peace, I opened the last mystery box.