Chapter 3

When I got home, what greeted me was another cold, empty room.

Adrian wasn't there.

I realized I had gotten used to it.

I changed into home clothes, tied on an apron, cooked, ate, and took my medicine.

After finishing my work handover in the study, I began planning a road trip through the Blue Ridge Mountains.

After I searched for a while, the algorithm began recommending all kinds of videos related to Blue Ridge road trips.

I casually opened one. The video was full of greenery, free wind, and a girl's happy voice.

When I heard movement outside, I picked up my tablet and opened the study door.

Adrian had changed into slippers and was coming in. He frowned at the tablet in my hand.

"Courtney, I've told you I'm very busy lately. I don't have time to accompany you to the hospital, and there's no way I can go traveling with you.

"I haven't forgotten the Blue Ridge trip we agreed on. You don't need to keep trying to remind me like this. We just have to wait until I have time."

I froze.

Only then did I remember that when we got married, we had agreed to drive the Blue Ridge together.

When had I forgotten that promise with Adrian?

Probably after one "when I have time" after another.

Five years had passed, and I had never waited long enough for him to have time.

But he could spend three hours making soup for his young assistant.

He could spend an afternoon taking her shopping to buy sweetbreads he didn't even like, clinking containers with her and coaxing her into smiling.

No. Adrian had never lacked time.

He simply had no time for me.

I turned off the video. I didn't tell him I had resigned, or that in three days I would go on the road trip alone and fulfill my dream.

Instead, I said calmly, "Please come to the study. I have something to tell you."

I wanted to clearly tell him about the divorce.

Adrian followed me in and saw the open notebook on my desk at a glance. The top line read:

Blue Ridge Road Trip Plan.

His steps stopped, and his tone was thick with impatience.

"Courtney, can you be a little more mature? I told you I don't have time to travel.

"I have important work tomorrow. I'm going to sleep."

He left me there without looking back and went to the bedroom to shower and sleep.

I looked at the divorce agreement beside the notebook and, after a long while, smiled bitterly.

Even after I had clearly seen that this man didn't love me, when I truly faced the fact that he didn't even have the patience to listen to one sentence from me, my heart still ached dully.

Thankfully, it wasn't severe.

Thankfully, in three days, I would leave Adrian for good.

The night passed.

When I woke up, Adrian was busy in the kitchen.

I was a little surprised.

He came out carrying a lunch box.

"There's extra breakfast in the pot. Serve yourself.

"I'm in a hurry, so I won't eat with you."

I walked over and saw the opened packaging box on the floor at once.

It was the supplement gift my coworker had given me yesterday.

I turned sharply. "Adrian, do you not even need to tell me before opening my things?"

His hand paused while he adjusted his shirt. He turned and looked at me as if I were some unreasonable shrew.

"Courtney, even if you're unhappy that I'm bringing breakfast to Sophie, didn't I leave some for you too?

"There's a limit to how unreasonable you can be."

He threw down that accusation, picked up the lunch box, and slammed the door behind him.

I quietly looked at the thin, watery soup left in the pot and only found it absurd and laughable.

A little over ten minutes later, just as expected, Sophie updated her social media again.

She was eating the breakfast Adrian had made by hand in his office.

And I remembered clearly.

Before we got married, Adrian told me one of his principles: he would never allow food in the office.

In our five years of marriage, I had never violated his principles.

But it turned out that in front of Sophie, every so-called principle of his could be ignored.

I looked at the photo and smiled faintly.

Then I called my mom.

"Mom, I'm getting divorced. I'll pack my things and mail them home in the next few days. Tell Dad to remember to sign for them."

My mom wasn't surprised at all.

"Got it. Once you're divorced, come home. Your dad keeps talking about you every day anyway."