Chapter 2

That day, Chelsea handed him the elegant watch box. Jeffery opened it, glanced at the watch, and said a flat thanks before tossing it onto the coffee table in the living room. He never touched it again.

Later, he shoved it into a drawer in his study, where it sat buried under a thick layer of dust, right alongside all those birthday gifts he'd never even bothered to unwrap.

The staff handed over two certificates.

The divorce certificates were a painful sight to behold.

Chelsea picked up hers and looked at it, her face blank and still, like dead water.

Jeffery was just as cold, his eyes distant, as if he were a stranger wrapping up some routine business.

"Alright, it's done," the staff member said.

That was it.

Chelsea slipped the divorce certificate into her purse and zipped it up in one smooth motion.

Jeffery stood beside her, holding his own divorce certificate, but he didn't bother to put it inside his bag. He held it carelessly, as it was a piece of scrap paper he'd used.

"Where are you headed? I'll give you a ride," he asked, his tone unreadable.

Chelsea finally looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time, openly, without hiding, and without any hope or expectation.

He was still handsome, but from now on, that was no longer hers.

"Don't bother," she replied softly, but her voice was resolute, leaving no room for argument.

Then, she turned and walked straight out. The cold wind rushed in, making her hunch her shoulders, but she kept moving. Each of her steps was firm and unwavering, as if every stride was carrying her into a brand new life.

"Chelsea Rooney."

Jeffery called out her full name behind her.

Back when they had to play the loving couple in front of Amber Newsom, Jeffery's mom, or at those social events, he'd gently call her Chelsea. Sometimes, with a hint of forced fondness like Honey.

But he'd only used her full name a handful of times, like on their wedding day. When he stood at the end of the aisle and asked, "Chelsea Rooney, will you marry me?" And now, as if marking the end of their marriage.

Chelsea paused, but didn't look back.

"These three years," Jeffery's voice drifted to her from behind, just loud enough for her to hear, "is there anything you want to say?"

She stood there, silent for a couple of seconds.

Three years ago, she'd had so much she wanted to say.

She wanted to say, "I finally learned how to make your favorite roast ribs, could you come home early and try them?" Or, "It's raining outside, and I'm a little scared being home alone." Or, "I've got a fever of 102°F. Can you take me to the hospital?"

Or, "Jeffery, could you turn around and look at me, even if it's just once?"

But after more than a thousand days and nights of waiting and disappointment, all those words had faded away.

Now, Chelsea didn't want to say anything at all.

She picked up her pace, walking even faster than before, as if she were breaking free from a prison that had trapped her for three years.

Jeffery stood there, watching her leave. She was moving so fast, so resolute, like she was escaping from some disaster behind her.

The wind caught the hem of her coat, flashing a glimpse of her skinny leg. It was so thin that it looked like it'd break at the slightest touch.

Suddenly, Jeffery remembered. When he left the house this morning, something was missing from the entryway shoe rack.

That tiny plug-in nightlight.

She'd bought it right after they got married. Its soft, golden glow was just enough to light up the entryway. He'd always come home late, slipping off his shoes by that faint light, never giving it a second thought. Sometimes, he even found it a little irritating.

But this morning, the nightlight was gone.

She'd taken it with her.

Even the tiniest sign she'd ever been there was wiped clean from his life.

Jeffery shoved the divorce certificate into his pocket, grabbed his phone, and dialed his assistant. His voice was sharper than ever before as he said, "Cancel all my meetings this afternoon. If you can't cancel them, reschedule. Do it now."

"Mr. Newsom, that international meeting is really important. The partners..." said the assistant.

"I said cancel them!" Jeffery cut him off, his voice carrying a frustration he didn't even realize he had.

He hung up with a sharp click, standing outside City Hall, suddenly with nowhere to go.

Home? The place Chelsea had once made warm and spotless would never have anyone waiting for him ever again.

Work? All those meetings, reports, and business dinners that used to fill up his days suddenly felt meaningless. None of it mattered anymore.

Jeffery stood there, like a plant yanked out of the ground, roots exposed to the cold wind, completely lost, not knowing where he belonged.