Chapter 2

That afternoon, Royal drove me to the local registry office. He was in a surprisingly good mood, chattering away about our upcoming third anniversary and tossing around ideas for where we should celebrate. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and now, three years into our marriage, here we were.

'How about Venice?' he suggested, his voice light and playful. 'You’ve always talked about feeding pigeons in St. Mark’s Square since you were, what, ten?'

When we arrived, he hopped out of the car, opened my door, and even helped me unbuckle my seatbelt. But then he stopped, his brow furrowing as he studied my face. 'Tsk, have you been crying?' he asked, his thumb brushing the corner of my eye. 'I told you to keep your chin up. She’s just a silly little bird. I’m just waiting to see when she stops flying so high.'

As he spoke, a box of condoms tumbled out of his pocket. Royal coughed awkwardly, rubbed his nose, and quickly ushered me into the registry office without another word.

The process was straightforward. My aphasia makes it hard for me to speak to strangers, but I managed with nods and shakes of my head.

'Is this a voluntary divorce?' the clerk asked.

'Yes,' I nodded.

'Are you confirming that your relationship is beyond repair?' they continued.

'Yes,' I nodded again.

'There’s a one-month cooling-off period. Please return in a month.'

Royal took the receipt, and before we even stepped out of the building, he snapped a picture of it and sent a message. Moments later, my phone buzzed—Cataleya’s name popped up.

Royal had sent her the photo of the receipt, along with a message: 'Satisfied now? Get ready for tonight!'

Without hesitation, I clicked on her profile and blocked her. Almost immediately, another notification appeared—a confirmation for a flight ticket purchase, followed by a WhatsApp message:

[The ticket’s booked for a month from now.]

[See you in Paris.]