Blood and Aurora

I said the word hate as casually as if it meant nothing.

Behind me, Cole Allen went completely still, and after that, he didn’t say another word. A long while passed, and I heard footsteps slowly fading away. When I finally turned around, Cole’s thin figure had disappeared into Sunnytown’s cold, gray rain.

“Sadie, do you know that homeless guy?”

Someone tapped my arm lightly. It was Ava, my junior from school, who was also from my hometown.

I looked away and nodded, saying, “Yeah, he’s my ex-husband.”

Ava gasped. She couldn’t even hide the shock in her voice.

“Ex… Ex-husband? Sadie, how did you end up marrying a homeless guy?”

I shook my head and handed out the last box of cold medicine before answering, “When I met him, he wasn’t like this. We just handed out our last box anyway, and the rain’s only going to get heavier. Let’s get back in the car and head to campus.”

On the ride back, I could see Ava sneaking glances at me, clearly wanting to ask more but too afraid to. I smiled helplessly. So, bit by bit, I started telling her about my past with Cole.

It wasn’t anything special. It was just an ordinary college romance. After graduation, he became a computer engineer in Tech Valley, while I worked as an actuary at a securities firm. We both earned decent money.

The apartment we rented was in a good neighborhood, the kind with solid security and quiet streets. In my plans, we would save enough to buy our own place within five years. Then, we’d get married, have a cute child, and have a small family.

Ava listened, but the more she heard, the deeper her frown grew.

“That sounds like a pretty happy life. So why did you get divorced?” She hesitated before blurting out the obvious guess. “Did Cole cheat on you?”

I gently pressed down the fist she had unconsciously clenched and explained, “No. He didn’t cheat, and neither did I. We divorced… because of a cooking pot.”

Ava’s eyes widened. She clearly thought I was joking, and maybe it really wasn’t just a cooking pot that broke our marriage.

Three years ago, it had been a rainy night just like this one. I had asked Cole to stop by the department store after work and buy a new cooking pot. The coating on the old nonstick pan the landlord left in the apartment was practically peeling off.

Meanwhile, I went to buy groceries. I had planned to cook a nice dinner to celebrate our wedding anniversary. In my head, the pot would bubble softly on the stove, and Cole would sniff the air, saying it smelled amazing. Then, we’d start with an appetizer and talk about the future, about how maybe we could finally buy our own house or maybe adopt a cat next year.

However, the moment I opened the door, Cole was standing there holding up a brand-new camera and waving at me excitedly.

“Babe! Come look at this! I paid extra to grab it. It’s a limited edition!”

I stared at the camera, stunned for a few seconds. The grocery bags in my hands had already dug deep red marks into my fingers. They throbbed with a numb, aching pain.

Almost instinctively, I asked, “Where’s the cooking pot?”

Cole seemed caught off guard by the question, but he quickly laughed it off, completely unconcerned.

“It’s just a pot. The department store isn’t going anywhere. We can buy one anytime. But if we miss this, it’s gone forever! Isn’t a camera way more romantic than a pot?

“Oh, right. I checked our joint account earlier, and there was still some money left, so I bought plane tickets. Hurry and pack your bags! We’re taking the new camera to Iceland tonight to chase the northern lights!”

I didn’t say anything. I just set the grocery bags down. Then, I quietly pulled out my phone and opened our joint savings account. Our balance was 41 cents. It wasn’t even enough for us to pay this month’s water bill.

Meanwhile, Cole’s excited voice kept going beside me. “Babe, listen. This camera has incredible high ISO performance. The aurora photos we take won’t have any noise at all. When we get back from Iceland, we’ll print them and stick them on the fridge…”

A familiar wave of exhaustion washed over me. I felt so tired. For three years, Cole had always been like this; he lived in the moment. If he wanted something, he had to have it immediately, even if it meant maxing out credit cards and piling up debt. However, what I wanted was a future where I could plan with peace of mind and protect myself against risks.

I looked up at him, still happily fiddling with that brand-new camera, and suddenly, it all became clear: Cole and I didn’t want the same things in life.

“Let’s get a divorce.”