Chapter 5 It Doesn't Matter

"Ow! Mr. Sylvaria, please don't kill me! If you don't want me here, I can leave. I can leave right now!"

I could not have cared less about Zachary's act. All I wanted to do was tear the pajamas off him. They were my mother's final act of love. And now, they had become a symbol of betrayal.

My fingers had just touched the fabric when Yvonne came barging in with a bowl of piping hot chicken soup. She splashed it on me without even asking for the story.

The scalding liquid rained down my head and streamed down my shoulders. My skin screamed in agony, but that was not enough for her. Her hand flew across my face with a sharp crack.

"What is wrong with you? Get your head checked! Don't go after my guest!"

Her eyes were filled with disgust, and my heart shouted out in pain. Tears trickled down my cheeks. This woman was the one I used to treasure, the one I swore I'd protect with my life. Perhaps I had never known her at all.

She kept fussing over Zachary, but not a single word reached my ears.

Zachary said, "Oh, what a shame I didn't get to have your chicken soup."

Yvonne only felt more heartbroken for him. "Now's not the time for that! I can always make another if you want. For my whole life too."

I had never known she could make chicken soup. I had never even known she could cook. But then again, it had never been for me.

A cold, hopeless feeling seeped into my veins and spread through my entire body. It froze all my fury, leaving behind nothing but a wasteland and a dead heart.

An outsider wearing my mother's last keepsake was worth more to this woman than her own husband. Our marriage was perhaps nothing to her. I spent seven years humbling myself just to make her happy, but that meant nothing.

Slowly, my hand touched my face, and I wiped the greasy liquid off.

Then, with fury burning in my chest, I roared, "You know how much those pajamas mean to me! I cherished them more than anything! You know. You know damn well how much I care. And now this piece of trash is wearing them.

"He burned them with his cigarette, and you're defending him? You're my wife! You splashed hot soup on me and slapped me for him. What am I to you? What is my mother's final keepsake to you? Nothing?"

She shot me an impatient glare, and her voice grew increasingly impatient. "It's just some stupid pajamas. You're overreacting. Honestly, you're such a loser. You'll never get rid of that poverty buried in your bones. If you say anything rude to Zach again, I will make you pay!"

Her face was filled with fury and not a single hint of remorse. She was defending Zachary without even thinking. My heart was well and truly dead. All my pain, anger, and suffering faded with it, leaving only exhaustion and cold indifference behind.

I refused to give these bastards a moment of my life. So, in the calmest voice I had ever used, I said, "Let's get divorced, Yvonne."