He's the Prince and the Princess

Ivy Rivers and I had been married for three years, yet we still hadn't registered our marriage legally.

Today marked the milestone of her 1,000th successful flight. It was also the 17th time she'd promised to finally register our marriage with me.

But at the celebration banquet, while her direct supervisor was forcing drinks on me, she was busy exchanging dishes and toasting with her male pilot apprentice.

Despite my high fever and drinking to the point of near collapse, she didn't even look my way. Numerous coworkers shook their heads and clucked their tongues, their eyes filled with sympathy as they regarded me.

Anyone with eyes could see who I was enduring this physical discomfort and drinking for. Yet after the celebration banquet ended, Ivy, who was supposed to go with me to City Hall to register our marriage, stood me up once again.

She drove the car to the restaurant entrance and blocked me from getting in with one hand.

"Owen drank a little too much on my behalf just now, so I'll be driving him home. You should take a cab back. We probably won't make it to City Hall this afternoon. Let's talk about it another day, okay?"

After saying this, she didn't care about my reaction at all. She hurriedly got out of the car and carefully helped Owen Gardner into the passenger seat.

We started dating eight years ago, and had been married for three years. This was already the 17th time Ivy had postponed our marriage registration because of Owen.

Usually at times like this, I would have broken down, shouting, arguing with her and demanding answers. Who exactly was her husband? Who had just been drinking on her behalf?

But this time, I just smiled slightly. "Alright, be careful on the road."

Ivy paused at my words, seemingly surprised by my calm attitude today. After a moment, she returned to her cold demeanor. "I'll buy you a gift to make up for it when I come back tonight."

With that, she drove off. Before leaving, she made a point of closing the car window for Owen, afraid the drunk man would catch a cold from the wind.

In the past, she'd never allowed any smell of alcohol to linger in her car. Every time I drank for her, she'd open the convertible top even in winter, let alone close the windows.

Looking back now, it was only because the person in the car was me. The noon heat in Orlion made people sweat profusely, but my heart felt inexplicably cold.

I took a deep breath and returned the marriage application forms to my bag. I knew it was time to let go of this eight-year relationship as well.