Chapter 4

Over the next few days, calm returned to our lives. The only difference was that I no longer left a light on for her.

In the past, no matter how late she came home, a small nightlight would always be on in the living room, and a cup of hot chocolate would be sitting on the coffee table. Now, the living room was pitch-black, and the table was empty.

One night, when she got back, she stood by the front door for a very long time. She walked in through the dark, her steps faltering slightly as she passed the table. I kept my eyes closed, but I could feel her gaze drifting in my direction.

The next morning, to my surprise, she woke up earlier than I did and rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. When I walked over, I saw her holding a box of cereal, staring blankly at the cupboards.

“There’s no food left at home,” she said, her tone sounding a bit unnatural. “Why haven’t you bought any groceries lately?”

“I forgot.” I poured myself a glass of water and walked right past her.

Sarah stared at me for a moment before shoving the cereal back into the cupboard.

“Forget it, then. I won’t eat.”

She changed into her clothes and walked to the door, where she stopped and muttered awkwardly, “Tomorrow… I haven’t forgotten what day it is.”

The front door clicked shut. I stood in place with my glass of water, dazed for a good long while before it finally registered that she was talking about our wedding anniversary.

In ten years of marriage, this was the very first time she had brought up that day. If this had been the past, I probably would have been ecstatic all day. Yet now, I merely looked down at the glass in my hand and took a quiet sip; I was completely unfazed.

On the day of our wedding anniversary, Sarah slept in late. By the time she woke up, I had been sitting in the living room for a long time. A packed suitcase was tucked underneath the coffee table near my feet.

The suitcase wasn’t large, containing only a few changes of clothes and important documents. It was tucked underneath the coffee table, and no one would notice it unless they looked closely.

She emerged from the bedroom with a yawn, looking somewhat surprised when she saw me on the sofa.

“You’re up so early today.”

“Yeah.”

“Um…” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, showing a rare moment of awkwardness. “I’m not going to work today. Since it’s our anniversary, I’ll make you a meal at home.”

Her eyes darted around as she spoke, as if she wasn’t used to speaking so gently.

I looked at her, remembering how, when we first got married many years ago, I had begged her to cook a meal for me at home. A hot meal prepared by a loving wife was every man’s dream.

Back then, she had frowned, saying it was too much of a hassle, so she told me to go to her restaurant if I wanted to eat her cooking. After that, I never brought it up again.

“Sure, I’ll go and get the groceries.”

She clearly hadn’t expected me to agree so readily. She froze for a second, then pulled a card from her wallet and set it on the coffee table.

“Buy plenty of good ingredients. I’ll cook up a storm for you today.”

I picked up the card and looked down at it with a bitter smile. What she didn’t know was that I no longer needed any of it—I didn’t need her or her cooking. I just wanted to bring this decade of my life to a close.

When I returned from buying the groceries, I took out the ingredients one by one and set them on the kitchen island. Sarah had changed into casual loungewear. She tied on an apron and stood in front of the island, rolling up her sleeves.

That scene made me freeze for a long moment. It was a scene I had envisioned for ten years. Yet now that I was about to leave, it finally came true today.

While I was lost in thought, her phone rang. It was a special ringtone, and I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Sarah glanced at me, hesitating for less than a second before answering, “Hello, Mark?”

Mark’s panicked voice echoed from the other end of the line. “Sarah, my son suddenly came up with a fever and won’t stop crying! What should I do? I’m just a guy. I can’t handle this on my own…”

“Don’t panic. I’m coming over right now.”

Before Sarah could finish tying her apron, she untied it without a moment’s hesitation.

“Take his temperature first. I put the thermometer by his bed the last time. Don’t panic.”

She hung up the phone, turned toward me, and opened her mouth to speak, but I said, “Go ahead.”

She probably hadn’t expected me to agree so readily. A hint of guilt flashed across her face, but it was quickly overshadowed by anxiety.

She snatched her car keys and rushed toward the door, calling out as she walked, “I’ll come right back as soon as I handle this. Put the groceries in the fridge for now, and I’ll cook tonight when I return.”

The door opened and closed. The footsteps faded down the hallway, followed by absolute silence.

I stood alone in front of the island covered with ingredients. I picked up the apron she had dropped onto the floor, folded it neatly, and draped it over the back of a chair. I couldn’t even close this decade of my life as I wanted it.

I pulled the suitcase from underneath the coffee table and placed the bank card in the center of the dining table, pressing down on an envelope next to it.

Inside the envelope was the signed divorce agreement. My name was already signed, leaving a blank space for hers.

I immediately hailed a ride online, dragged my suitcase, and walked out the main door. As the elevator descended, my phone screen lit up. It was a flight notification reminding me that the flight I had booked was scheduled to take off in two hours.

I looked out the car window, watching the city gradually recede into the distance. When the car merged onto the freeway, I leaned back and let out a long sigh. The weight on my shoulders for ten years suddenly lifted.

As the plane took off, the force pressed me into my seat. I closed my eyes, feeling the plane lift off, climb, and break through the clouds.

I switched my phone to airplane mode. Thirty thousand feet up in the air, nothing mattered to me anymore.

Goodbye, Sarah, and the last ten years of my life.