Chapter 1
When I ran into my ex-husband, I was busy charming the clients in the conference room, and he was the project manager on their side. I scanned the room but didn’t see the woman who had been clamoring for my wedding ring ever since she wedged herself between us. I figured, since she wanted the ring so badly, I might as well let her have the husband that came with it.
After we successfully signed the project contract, the client invited us to a celebratory dinner that evening. During the games section of the night, the host asked all the single people to stand up, arranging the men and women to sit alternately. Just as I stood, my ex-husband grabbed me and pulled me outside.
“Emmeline, let’s discuss the photography schedule,” he insisted, pushing me gently against the cool corridor wall, his breath barely more than a whisper.
“Do you enjoy playing the single game? Do you think any of them are hotter than me?” Kenji’s smug expression instantly threw me back to our pre-divorce days. Anger surged within me.
“It’s none of your business. We’re divorced,” I snapped, turning on my heel, ignoring his calls after me. When I returned to the private room, the looks from those around me were laced with extra sympathy.
The intern, Juniper, quickly sidled up to me, whispering, “Em, when did you rub that guy the wrong way?”
I picked up a piece of fruit, focusing on it intently. “I didn’t. It’s just work.”
My colleagues gathered around me, even more intrigued now, and eagerly dissected the situation.
“Huh? No, during dinner, he kept looking at you.”
“Yeah, he even knew you don’t like celery. How’d he figure that out?”
“You two don’t know each other, do you?”
I stood up quickly, searching for an excuse. “My stomach’s upset. I’m going to the bathroom.”
“You all should stop asking. Maybe they’re about to get remarried.”
The room buzzed with excitement.
“What! Kenji was married before?”
“Emmeline, don’t be ridiculous. It’s illegal to spread rumors.”
It wasn’t a rumor. I was the one who wore the “green hat” and put up with everything in silence. And I had seen his girlfriend; the memory made my heart heavy. The pain of betrayal was still fresh.
I stepped out to the hallway and lit a slender cigarette. As the smoke curled around me, my thoughts drifted back several years.
Kenji and I were college sweethearts, dating for four years before getting married right after graduation. People often said we were a perfect match, made for each other. I, too, believed that our happiness was meant to last.
Until the day WhatsApp updated to version 8.0.53.
Kenji posted a live photo on Instagram, accompanied by a woman’s playful voice whispering, “Kenji, let’s have a baby.”
Though the post was deleted almost immediately, I couldn’t pretend not to have heard it. I quickly searched using a different account and found posts filled with him and his so-called “female buddy.” My heart turned cold. Kenji’s business trips were actually getaways with Mikayla at a fancy hotel.
For three days and nights, they were inseparable.
I barely remember how I ended up at Kenji’s father’s house that day. Hassan, Kenji’s father, was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, and the doctors had advised that even if Kenji couldn’t be there every day, he should visit regularly. But Kenji was rarely home, and I hardly saw him, let alone expect him to care for his father. So, cooking for Hassan became part of my daily routine.
That day, as usual, I prepared two dishes and a soup, setting them on the table. But Hassan wouldn’t touch his food. “Emma, is there something on your mind?” he asked gently, pouring me
a glass of wine.
“Dad, I’m driving; I shouldn’t drink.” Still, he nudged the glass towards me. “It’s okay, call a ride back.”
Despite his condition, he was perceptive. “Is it about a fight with that son of mine?” he asked. The mention made my eyes sting with tears.
I shook my head vigorously, trying to keep the tears at bay. “It’s nothing, Dad. Every couple argues.”
He sighed and clinked his glass with mine. “I know my son too well; I’ve spoiled him. He’s got a
showy attitude, and I know you’ve put up with a lot.”
After taking a sip, he set his glass down slowly. “You’re young, and you should think about yourself. If you need to leave, do it. Don’t worry; as long as I’m here, you won’t be left out.”
Quickly drying my tears, I reassured him again, “Don’t worry, Dad, we’re.fine.”
We finished the meal quickly. I feared our marriage troubles might affect Hassan, so as soon as
I left, I called Kenji. He hadn’t been home to see his dad in ages, and it was clear the old man missed him. But my calls went unanswered. When I finally got through after several tries, he
was curt.
“What do you want?”
His dismissive tone twisted my heart even tighter. “Where are you?” I asked, fighting the quiver in my voice.
“On a business trip. Why do you care?”
His patience with me was nearly gone. I pressed on, barely managing to keep my voice steady. “Who are you with?”
“Alone. Emma, what’s going on in that head of yours? Are you suspecting me?” he replied tersely.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from his end, confirming my suspicions. Hassan’s words rang in my head again. I was still young, and I needed to think about myself. Clutching the phone, I finally voiced the cold truth. “Let’s divorce. Come back as soon as possible to handle the paperwork.”
Kenji laughed incredulously. “Fine, let’s divorce.”
