Cross the Boundary, Then Walk Away

Nicole's POV

[I have an international video conference tonight. I won't be going home. Get some rest. Don't wait for me.]

Gunther's messages appeared on my phone. I stared at the screen and forced a small smile.

Ten minutes earlier, Chloe had posted on social media: [Thanks for treating me to such an amazing dinner, boss! Suddenly, I'm not so tired from all the overtime!]

The photo showed the night view from an upscale Falennian restaurant. Gunther's sharply defined face was clearly reflected in the window.

So, his supposedly urgent international meeting was actually a dinner with an intern.

I turned off the screen without replying, then took down the so-called marital conduct agreement that had been posted on the wall for three years.

The first rule clearly wrote: [The wife may not have any physical contact with the husband without his permission.]

I walked over to the shredder. With a harsh shredding noise, it reduced the agreement I had once treated as sacred law to scraps.

Mrs. Watson, our family's maid, came over with a glass of warm milk and was shocked. "Ma'am, Mr. Lane made those rules himself. Why did you shred them?"

"I won't need them anymore," I said with a calm and low voice.

Mrs. Watson froze, as if she no longer recognized me.

I headed upstairs to the bedroom. It was at this time that my phone buzzed.

Nate, the head of the College of Design, had sent me a text message: [Nicole, have you decided whether to accept your place at Lumiville Academy of Design?]

I typed a reply: [I'll accept it, Nate.]

Another text came in: [That means three years of sequestered study overseas on your own. Have you discussed it with your husband?]

I texted another reply: [I'm free to go wherever I want. I don't need to discuss it with anyone.]

Back in the bedroom, I opened Chloe's post again. I stared at the location tag for the Peninsula Hotel Revolving Rooftop Restaurant.

We went there only on our wedding anniversaries.

Every time, Gunther would make the servers move our tables exactly one meter apart. Even when I handed him a wineglass, he would not let my fingers brush his.

But tonight, he had let another woman sit beside him. I enlarged the photo and focused on Chloe's wrist.

I gasped. She was wearing a red sandalwood rosary, a keepsake Gunther's grandmother had left him when she died.

In our three years of marriage, whenever I touched it, he would warn me coldly, "Don't touch my personal belongings."

Now, they were openly displayed on an intern's wrist.

A sharp ache spread through my heart, but cold indifference quickly replaced it. I went into the walk-in closer, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing my things.

My phone buzzed again. Chloe had sent me a video in a private message.

It showed a serving of beef stew dumped in a trash can, still steaming. I had spent five hours making it that afternoon and sent the driver to deliver it to his office.

Chloe's sweet voice came through the phone.

"Nicole, I'm so sorry. Gunther said the stew was too greasy, and the smell was making me dizzy, so he threw it out. You're not mad at me, are you?"

My stomach twisted with nausea. Keeping my face blank, I typed a reply.

[No. Trash belongs in the trash.]

I sent it and blocked her. Then I opened the closet and looked at an elegant black gift box. Inside lay a custom tie I had spent six months sewing by hand.

I had planned to give it to him for his birthday tomorrow.

I picked up the scissors and cut the expensive satin in two without hesitating. Then I threw it into the bin together with the box.

When I went to the study for my passport, I opened the drawer he had forbidden me to touch.

Inside was a pink strawberry hair tie. Under the paperweight on his desk was a note in Chloe's handwriting, covered in doodles. There was even an open jar of colorful candy beside the black coffee he always drank without sugar.

The boundaries he took such pride in… The ones he treated as sacred, had already crumbled for another woman.

I did not cry. Seven years of loving him in secret and three years of marriage felt like a complete joke.

Once I had packed everything, I turned on my computer and opened the airline's website. I booked a flight to Lumiville in five days, with no return ticket.

In five days, I would cross the world and begin a life on the banks of the River Sein without him.

I would set my love free and leave Gunther to his boundaries.