I had a few drinks at the party too. As the alcohol hit, I heard him sobbing, “Eloise, don’t leave me.”
The next morning, I fled with a hickey on my neck.
We silently agreed not to contact each other, and I thought my crush was over.
Then I found out I was pregnant.
My periods were always regular, and when I noticed something off, I got tested. With the report in hand, I sat in the hospital corridor. On a whim, I texted Nolan.
I didn’t want to trap him with the baby, but he had a right to know.
I waited at the hospital till night, but he didn’t respond.
I thought he blocked me, but then Nolan called.
“Phoebe, let’s get married.”
If not for being in a hospital, I would’ve screamed with joy.
I thought I used all my luck for his proposal.
But I stayed calm, “If you’re doing this out of duty, I don’t need it.”
He paused, then firmly said, “Phoebe, I’ll take responsibility. We can be together.”
I waited for him at the hospital entrance.
As he approached, he became the handsome boy from my youth.
I didn’t know when I fell for him. Maybe when he caught me skipping class but let me go, teasing, “Like a little rabbit, hard to scold.”
Or maybe every morning and evening I watched him.
But at this moment, my longing finally found hope.
Later, Nolan’s mother used my pregnancy as an excuse to skip the wedding. She made my life difficult, and I lost the baby.
But I believed if I worked hard enough, Nolan would see my worth.
How naive I was back then.
Five years later, my sincerity was worn out, meaningless.
3
The next morning, I got up half an hour early.
As nine approached, I knocked on the bedroom door.
Nolan took his time, still in yesterday’s suit, “You’re eager for divorce.”
I checked my watch and echoed his words, “It’s almost nine. Are you planning to disappear?”
“Didn’t you always want a divorce? Now you’re almost free, why need a reminder?”
Five years have gone by, and the sincerity has long faded away. It’s not even worth mentioning anymore.
The next evening, I deliberately got up half an hour earlier.
As the clock approached nine, I knocked on the bedroom door.
13
Nolan finally came to open the door, still wearing the same suit from yesterday. “Phoebe, are you really in such a rush to get divorced?”
I glanced at my watch and threw his words from the previous night back at him: “It’s almost nine. Are you planning to pull a disappearing act?”
“Besides, haven’t you always wanted a divorce? You’re about to be free. Why do I need to remind you?”
With that, I went to the door to change my shoes. “Hurry up, or we’ll have to reschedule if it’s past nine.”
Nolan sneered and followed me to the door. “Fine, let’s get divorced. Eloise is much better than you. Marrying her will bring me more happiness than I can express.”
I nodded, brushing off his comment.
On the way to City Hall, Nolan drove like he was in a fury, cursing at everyone we passed.
I sat in the back, eyes closed, resting.
I’m used to interacting like this by now.
In five years of marriage, Nolan and I rarely talked about the little things in life, as couples do.
Initially, I would share interesting or delicious things with him, but he always responded with indifference, sometimes even impatience. Eventually, I stopped trying, convincing myself he was just naturally aloof.
But that wasn’t true.
I had seen him on Phoebe’s social media, being witty and charming.
That warmth just wasn’t for me.
At City Hall, the mediator kept trying to reconcile us. I smiled and said, “There’s no need to persuade us. The divorce is a mutual decision after careful consideration. Besides, it was a shotgun wedding. There’s no real affection.”
Nolan glanced at me, a complex expression on his face.
But I didn’t care.
