Chapter 1

"That's wonderful, Tabby. I'm so happy that you're finally coming back after all these years." The voice of a middle-aged man rose excitedly from the other end of the line. My uncle, David Norbury, was thrilled to hear from me.

Just as the call ended, Luther Jansen opened the door to the room. Along with him, the scent of an unfamiliar woman's perfume wafted in. The scent was so sickly sweet that it stung my nose.

"Who were you talking to?" Luther asked, his tone indifferent.

He wasn't really curious. Even as he spoke to me, his eyes stayed glued to his phone screen. He was unwilling to spare even one glance my way.

Just as I was about to answer, his phone rang again. A young woman's cloying, saccharine voice came through.

"Mr. Jansen, thank you so much for bringing me medicine the other day. Without you, my cold would've gotten so much worse. What would I do without you?"

Luther must have realized that his conversation with her wasn't entirely appropriate. He fumbled with his phone to lower the volume in a hurry.

Feeling fed up, I decided to stay silent. I thought it was pointless for me to speak since we were already planning to get a divorce anyway.

Quietly, I continued packing my things. Then, I made myself a customary glass of warm milk.

After Luther finished his call, he sat on the couch and flipped through his financial newspaper as usual. He habitually reached out for the Earl Grey tea I always brewed for him. However, it wasn't there this time.

He finally looked at me with an irritated expression as he snapped, "Ugh! Is there a need for you to be so petty? All I did was fail to come to your aid when the elevator broke down.

"Sasha has a relative who's a doctor. He said your claustrophobia isn't even a big deal, so stop being so dramatic. Besides, you're the one who brought up divorce, and I agreed. Why the long face all day?"

Previously, I had worked late one night and ended up getting trapped in the elevator. The power had gone out completely, and my phone had been dying. At that moment, my claustrophobia had kicked in. With trembling hands, I had called Luther for help.

But all he had said was, "Can't you figure it out yourself? I'm busy."

Then my phone had died, and I had blacked out.

Later, I had found out that he had given his assistant, Sasha Knox, several days off. He had coincidentally been delivering cold medicine to her the evening I had gotten trapped in the elevator.

And so, I had decided to file for divorce.

"Once the divorce is finalized, you won't have to deal with my long face anymore," I replied calmly, not letting it interrupt what I was doing.

I thought Luther would be pleased. To my surprise, he suddenly raised his voice and exclaimed, "Don't come crying to me when you regret it!"

When he didn't get any response from me, he grew frustrated and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I was past the point of caring about his emotions.

After finishing up, I drank my milk and took a hot shower. Then, I got ready for bed.

Just then, a message from Luther came in. It read, "I'm drunk. Come pick me up, and bring me a bottle of yogurt."

I didn't want to go. But then, another message followed. "We haven't gotten the divorce certificate yet. You still have to fulfill your duties as my wife."

Exhausted, I reluctantly grabbed my things and headed out.

When I arrived at the club, Luther's voice and Sasha's grating laughter reached my ears immediately. This brought my thoughts back to the night when I first brought up divorce. That evening, Luther had also been drunk.

One of his friends had asked, "Luther, are you sure you want to divorce Tabitha?"

Luther had laughed dismissively and replied, "She's just throwing a tantrum. Both her parents have already passed away. Where could she possibly go? Besides, isn't there a 30-day cooling-off period? If she regrets it, I'll be generous enough to take her back."

He thought I was alone and had no ties to anyone. Thus, he started to take me for granted, thinking no one would stand up for me. Funnily, he also assumed that was the reason I couldn't leave him.