He Doesn’t Love Me

Charles Lennon finally came home after we gave each other the silent treatment for seven days.

The dark circles under his eyes really stood out.

“Hasn’t it been a while since you made any sleep balm?”

Charles suffered from severe insomnia and had always relied on this balm to sleep through the night. I would make it from the leaves of an old camphor tree.

However, I kept scrolling through my phone and answered indifferently, “Well, I’ve been slacking off.”

It was true. The raw materials for the sleep balm came solely from the garden in my old house. I used to go back every week to gather the leaves from the tree. It would take me half a day each time, which was exhausting.

“Sharon didn’t mean any harm. You’re crossing the line if you keep stirring up trouble.”

He took some fruit wine out of the refrigerator and sipped it as he spoke.

While we were not on speaking terms, Sharon Simpson had come up with a new idea and brought him fruit wine to help him sleep.

He dropped ice cubes into his glass and glanced at me. “Sharon didn’t know how much that tree meant to you. To make up for it, she found an estate that produces spices.

“I’ve arranged for it to be purchased. I’ll put it under your name, so let’s put this matter behind us.”

I almost laughed. He used our assets to buy an estate so that his secretary could make it up to me.

‘What a wonderful husband,’ I thought to myself as I tried to stay polite. “Fine. Do thank ‘Mrs. Lennon’ on my behalf.”

For the first time since he came home, Charles made a face and looked at me with impatience. “Hazel, is there anything else you can do apart from being jealous?”

I met his gaze calmly. “I can get a divorce.

“If you have the time to buy estates with your little girlfriend, you have the time to sign the divorce papers. Hurry up already.

“You usually don’t take seven days to sign something, Charles.”

He stared at me for a few seconds before losing all interest in chatting further. Instead, he sat on the couch and started fiddling with his phone.

He would frown occasionally as if he were working.

If I had not seen his flirtatious banter with Sharon on social media, I would have believed his act.

[You look so beautiful today, missy. Did you dress up knowing that I’d be taking you out for dinner?]

[Don’t flatter yourself. I dressed up because I’m having dinner with your mother tonight.]

Affectionate messages streamed across the screen while the room remained silent.

They reminded me once again that divorce was the right choice.

I looked down and wiped my tears.

In the past, the only thing I would do was cry in front of him.

However, I finally saw no reason to keep humiliating myself for a dead marriage.

“Did you upset Mom again?” he asked when he eventually shifted his focus from Sharon’s “well-intentioned reminders” to me.

“Sharon’s traveling with Mom in a few days to cheer her up for you.

“You should learn to be more sensible like Sharon sometime.”

I chuckled softly.

“I’m already handing over the title of Mrs. Lennon to her. Isn’t that sensible enough?”

At my response, his gaze became visibly threatening.

“Hazel, is causing a fuss all you’re known for?”

I stood up and gave up on any final attempts to communicate with this man.

“Perhaps.

“By the way, I know you have no time to sign the divorce papers.

“So, I’ve asked my lawyer to file for it.”