Chapter 2
Freya didn't sign it.
That night, she stood by the dining table, her eyes fixed on the agreement for what felt like ages, then tossed the pen back onto the table.
"Jonah, calm down," she said.
I slid the agreement back into its folder.
"Tomorrow morning at nine, outside city hall," I said.
"I'm not going," she replied.
She picked up her bag and walked into the bedroom.
The door slammed shut, shaking the wedding photo on the wall and making it tilt a little.
In the photo, I was in a suit, grinning like an idiot.
Freya stood next to me, forcing a smile, but her eyes were fixed somewhere off-camera.
Paxton didn't show up that day.
When she came out of the dressing room, she was gripping her phone, her thumb kept swiping across the screen again and again.
I asked if she was alright.
She said, "I'm fine."
Later, I found out Paxton had gone abroad that day and posted about it online.
He was at the beach, drinking champagne with friends, and captioned it: [Long live freedom.]
I took down the wedding photo and leaned it against the corner of the wall.
The glass surface reflected the light, making my face look pale.
That night, I crashed in the study.
The bed was so cramped, my back was jammed against the wall, and the musty smell of old books crept into my nose.
At three in the morning, the bedroom door opened.
Freya stood in the doorway.
"You're really sleeping here?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
She was holding a cup, the bottom of it tapping against the doorframe.
"Your stomach acts up easily, and the couch is freezing," she said.
"There's a blanket in the study," I replied.
She didn't say anything else.
Back in my previous life, on a night just like this, she came home late from work, and I was waiting for her in the living room with a bowl of hot oatmeal.
She was annoyed that I was blocking her way and pushed the bowl out of the way.
The bowl hit the floor, spilling oatmeal everywhere.
I crouched down to clean it up, and a shard of ceramic cut my finger, blood dripping into the oatmeal.
She stood there and said, "Don't do this again. Watching you do this just wears me out."
But the next day, I still made her oatmeal.
Now, she stood in the doorway, silent for half a minute, then turned and walked away.
At 8:30 in the morning, I changed into a shirt, the folder tucked under my arm.
Freya sat at the dining table, with last night's food container in front of her.
She'd already opened it.
Some of the egg drop soup was gone, the spoon resting to the side, and a thin layer of oil floated on top.
She didn't look at me.
"I've got a meeting today," she said.
"I took today off," I replied.
"I said, I have a meeting," she said.
"Then I'll wait for you downstairs at your office," I said.
She set the spoon down, the clink of ceramic against the bowl sharp and grating.
"Do you really have to make this so messy?" she asked.
I picked up my keys.
"Divorce isn't messy. Letting it drag on is," I said.
She shot to her feet.
"Jonah!" she called out.
I stopped in the entryway.
She walked over, her eyes burning with anger.
"I admit I was out of line last night. If you want an apology, fine, I'll give you one," she said.
"No need," I replied.
"Then what do you want?" she asked.
I looked over at the old keychain sitting on the shoe cabinet.
We'd bought it on our first date, a pair of keychains, two halves that only made a whole when joined together.
She'd lost her half ages ago.
Mine had been with me for six years, the edges rough and fuzzy from all that time.
I took the keychain off and left it on the shoe cabinet.
"I want freedom," I said.
She paused, her breath catching for a moment.
The wind was biting outside city hall.
Freya still showed up.
She had on sunglasses and a mask covering half her face, standing at the foot of the steps, clutching her bag strap like it was the only thing keeping her steady.
The staff handed the paperwork back to us.
The staff explained, "You've both confirmed you want a divorce. You have to wait for thirty days before finalizing it.
"After that, you'll need to come back together to finish the registration. If either of you changes your mind during this time, you can back out."
Freya took the receipt and looked it over twice.
When I signed, my pen paused right before my name.
It wasn't that I couldn't let go.
My mind drifted back to my previous life. I'd stood here before, signing my name in this very spot.
Only that time, it was to get married.
After I finished signing, I looked up at her.
She kept her eyes down, the wedding ring sitting loose on her finger, my initials etched inside the band.
She'd never once traced those letters with her finger.
This time, I wrote my name, Jonah Spears, on the paper.
Every stroke was neat and steady.
Freya just stood there, frozen.
The staff reminded her, "Ma'am, it's your turn."
She took off her sunglasses, her eyes bloodshot and streaked with red.
"Jonah, have you really made up your mind?" Freya asked quietly.
"Yeah. I've thought it through," I said.
"Just don't come back with regrets in thirty days," she said.
"I won't," I told her.
She stared at me, like she was really understanding those words for the first time.
Her pen touched the paper, and she wrote slowly, every stroke careful and hesitant.
As she finished the last stroke, her wrist gave a little shake.
As I stepped out of city hall, I took a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs and making my chest ache.
The air was clean.
Gone was the familiar scent of her laundry soap.
Freya stood behind me, and suddenly spoke up.
"Are you going home this afternoon?" she asked.
"I'm heading back to grab my things," I replied.
"So you're really moving out?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said.
She hurried over and stood in front of me.
"The 30-day period isn't over yet," Freya said.
"We're still married on paper, but we can go our separate ways now," I replied.
She gripped the receipt so tightly, the corner of the paper was crumpled in her hand.
"Where are you staying?" she asked.
"I've rented a place near the office," I replied.
Funny thing was, I'd actually scoped out that place in my previous life.
Back then, after she told me, "Don't bother me," and kicked me out of the bedroom, I spent the whole night working at the office.
On my way home, I passed through that old neighborhood and spotted a small apartment with southern exposure up for rent.
I didn't rent it.
I couldn't bear to put any more distance between us.
But now, I finally rented it.
Freya's lips thinned with tension.
"When did you go see the apartment?" she asked.
"Yesterday," I replied.
She just looked at me, speechless for a long moment.
I walked around her and headed for the parking lot.
I heard the click of her heels behind me, two steps, then silence.
"Jonah, don't use leaving as a threat," she said.
I didn't turn around.
"Freya, I'm not threatening you. I'm informing you," I said.