The Story of Wendy Yaeger

I hesitantly stood at the door of the private room. The piece of paper in my hand was crumpled and wrinkled.

The bar was bustling with noise, and I didn't dare take another step forward.

Luke hadn't been home for an entire month.

Suddenly, the door swung open and a man stepped out with his phone. He looked at me in surprise. "Wendy? What brings you here?"

His voice was loud enough for everyone inside to hear. In an instant, all eyes were on me.

In the center of the room, Luke was seated on a couch and had his hand casually resting on a woman's waist. My heart ached like it had been stabbed with a needle.

"Come over," he coldly ordered.

I found it hard to breathe and clutched the paper even tighter.

"Wendy's here. Come on, have a seat." The sharp-eyed person beside him made space for me, but I didn't budge. Instead, I held the paper out toward him. "Sign it. I'm in a hurry."

For a moment, the entire room fell silent. Perhaps they hadn't expected me to be so firm—after all, I was a pathetic loser that had clung onto Luke like a parasite.

With a snort, Luke set his glass down. "If you're here to ask for money, at least act like it." He glanced at the paper in my hand. "What illness did you make up at the hospital this time?"

The color drained from my face, and I trembled slightly.

Indeed, I had gone to the hospital back then, but I hadn't faked anything. The truth was that my condition had worsened, and I was dying soon.

Luke snatched the paper from my hand, and his expression went cold the moment he saw what it was. He slammed the paper on the table as his eyes blazed with fury. "Wendy Yaeger, are you asking for a divorce? Is this what you were 'in a hurry' for?"

I nodded. "Sign it. You don't love me, and I don't love you either. I don't want to be tied to you for life."

As soon as I finished speaking, the sound of sharp inhales filled the room. Even the air seemed to grow colder by the second.

Luke gritted his teeth."Sure. I'll sign it if you finish this bottle of wine."

My lips went pale as I looked at him. Then, one of his lap dogs beside him quickly poured a glass for me.

I had liver cancer, and I couldn't drink. He basically wanted me dead.

"I… I'm not feeling well…" I said.

"What now? Changed your mind?

"Wendy, stop playing games. If you want something, just say it. Don't pull schemes to threaten me like this. You'll only disgust me," Luke exclaimed.

I felt like someone had ripped a piece of my heart out, and the pain made my entire body tremble.

Quickly, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the desk and downed it. Like flames, the alcohol burned its way from my throat to my stomach, igniting my failing organs.

As I put the empty bottle back down, Luke stared at me and suddenly chuckled. "Turns out you can drink. That makes sense—after so many years overseas, who knows how many people you've toasted? One bottle must be nothing to you now."

I coughed a few times, trying to suppress my churning stomach. "Just sign it. I'll move out after you've signed it."

Yet, Luke only grinned wider. "How is one bottle enough?" He patted the woman beside him. "Go get more and open them all."

So, I ended up chugging one bottle after another.

…

I didn't even remember when I'd lost consciousness. When the pain in my stomach woke me up, I got up from the floor and stumbled toward the restroom.

I threw up until the world spun. Then, I washed my face, propped myself up, and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

I seemed dishevelled, and my skin was unusually yellow.

I lowered my head and bitterly laughed. God still wasn't ready to let me go just yet.

With how pathetic I looked now, I might as well have died overseas back then.

"Are you okay, Wendy?" Someone handed me a tissue.

I looked back into the room, but it was empty. Meanwhile, the divorce agreement lay on the table, completely soaked in wine. Luke's signature was nowhere to be found.

I frowned. "Where's Luke?"

"He left because Ms. Kingston had a fever…"

So, he'd left. The man who'd used to panic over a scratch on my hand now couldn't care less that I'd passed out.

Instead, he was now particularly attentive to Cassidy Kingston, his new mistress. She looked a lot like me—of course, not the person I was now, but who I had been in high school.

I wiped the stains off my clothes with the tissue and staggered out of the room. With every step I took, my body ached, and so did my heart.

Back when I had left the country, Luke had cried his heart out, saying, "If you go, don't ever come back!"

Yet, I didn't listen.

Now that I was back, this was the ending I got.