Thirty Days to Freedom

"Great, Krista, I'm so happy that you finally decided to come back after all these years."

The middle-aged man, my Uncle Brian's voice carried a hint of excitement over the phone.

Before the call even ended, the bedroom door swung open. Ayden stepped in, bringing with him the sharp, cloying scent of an unfamiliar woman's perfume.

"Who were you talking to?"

He didn't actually care. When he spoke to me, his gaze was locked on his phone screen, unwilling to give me any attention.

As I opened my mouth to answer, his phone rang. A saccharine voice purred through the speaker. "Mr. Baldwin, thanks for bringing me those meds last week! I don't know what I'd do without you. I might still be sick if it weren't for you."

He lowered the volume. Maybe even he realized this wasn't appropriate.

I shut my mouth. What was the point? We were getting divorced anyway.

Without a word, I resumed packing my things. As usual, I made myself some warm milk.

Ayden had just finished a tender conversation on the phone and sat on the sofa, flipping through the daily financial newspapers. It seemed as if he had habitually not found the floral tea that I had always brewed for him. Finally, he looked at me with an impatient expression.

"You're really mad just because I didn't come get you when the elevator broke down?

"Leticia's relative is a doctor. He said that your claustrophobia is not a big deal at all. You don't need to be so dramatic.

"And anyway, I agreed to the divorce you proposed. Do you have to keep sulking all day?"

That day, I worked overtime until very late. I was trapped in the elevator, shivering with fear. The elevator lost power and my phone was about to die. My claustrophobia kicked in. Trembling, I called Ayden.

But in return, he replied, "Can't you figure it out yourself? I'm busy."

My phone ran out of battery, and I also fell into a coma.

Later, I found out that her assistant, Leticia Carter, had been given several days off by him. That night, Ayden wasn't busy with work. He had been busy bringing her cold medicine.

I filed for divorce.

"Don't worry. Once the divorce is finalized, you won't have to see my sulking anymore."

I didn't stop my work, thinking that Ayden would be happy, but I didn't expect him to suddenly raise his voice. "You better not regret this!"

I didn't respond. With an angry scowl, Ayden slammed the door behind him.

I didn't waste time analyzing his mood.

After finishing my work, I made myself warm milk, took a hot bath, and got ready for bed.

Then, Ayden sent a message, "I'm drunk. Come pick me up. Bring a bottle of yogurt."

I had no intention of going. In the next second, Ayden texted, "We haven't gotten the divorce certificate yet. You're still my wife. Do your duty."

Exhausted, I grabbed my coat and headed out.

As I approached the club entrance, Ayden and Leticia's flirtatious laughter spilled through the door.

I thought back to the night I first asked him for a divorce. That night, he had been drinking too. His buddy nudged him. "You let Krista leave that easy?"

He said disdainfully, "She's just throwing a tantrum. Her parents both passed away, so she can't divorce me.

"Besides, isn't there a thirty-day cooling-off period? If she regrets it, I'll be generous enough to take her back. She'll come back to me."

He assumed I was an orphan. He never considered treating me right yet believed that was why I clung to him.