Chapter 3

The room was suddenly filled with an unnerving silence.

Phillip's Adam's apple bobbed, as if he wanted to say something.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice a bit hoarse. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

I looked at him. "Earlier? I was going to tell you this morning. But you spent the whole day at the airport with your precious white moonlight. Later, when I called, you told me to stop making a scene."

Phillip's face darkened. "I didn't know you were pregnant," he said.

I forced a smile. "Of course you didn't. You were too busy bringing your beloved dream girl home to even notice."

A cold glint flashed in his eyes. "Bella."

"What, did I hit a nerve?" I shot back.

I pushed myself up from the bed, my stomach aching so badly I was shaking, but I still made myself walk over to him, step by step.

"Phillip, it's been three years. I'm done pretending," I said.

He stared at me, his eyes dark and his brows furrowed low. "What do you mean?"

"I want a divorce," I said.

The moment those words left my mouth, it was like someone had squeezed all the air out of the room.

Phillip's expression darkened completely.

"You just had surgery. Your emotions are all over the place. I won't argue with you right now," he said.

"I'm perfectly calm," I said, meeting his gaze. "This is the clearest I've been in the past three years."

His gaze was icy. "Bella, don't threaten me with divorce."

"Who's threatening you?" I took off the wedding ring I'd been ready to remove and placed it next to him. "You always said I was so understanding, right? Well, I'll be even more understanding this time and make room for you two."

Phillip didn't take it.

The ring fell to the floor with a soft clink.

He stared at the ring, his expression growing gloomier by the second.

"I won't allow it," Phillip said.

I said softly, "It doesn't matter if you agree or not. The truth is, I don't want you anymore."

This was probably the first time in three years of marriage that I truly turned against Phillip.

No matter how cold or distant he was, as long as he said, "Bella, stop making a scene," I'd always push down my feelings and hold back my emotions.

Because I loved him.

I loved him so much that even knowing his heart belonged to someone else, I'd still stay up all night when he had a fever, cook him some hangover soup when he drank too much, and gently cover him with a blanket when he fell asleep on the couch.

I thought that maybe, one day, even a stone could be warmed up.

But in the end, a stone stayed a stone. The longer I held on, the only one getting frostbite was me.

The next morning, I asked Iris Everett to come pick me up.

Iris was my college roommate, and the only one who never believed my marriage would last from the very beginning.

When she walked in and saw my suitcase still half-packed, her eyes got teary.

"You finally came to your senses?" she asked.

I gave a wry smile. "Is it a little too late?"

Iris snapped, "No. Unless you're already lying in a coffin, it's never too late."

I couldn't help but crack a smile. But that smile nearly brought tears to my eyes.

Iris helped me pack my clothes, cursing Phillip for being a total asshole the whole time.

Halfway through her tirade, she yanked open my closet and froze.

"Bella, what the hell happened to your closet?" she blurted out.

I looked over and saw nothing but apricot, cream, and pale gray lined up in my closet.

All soft, quiet, and obedient, without a single bold color in sight. Just like how I had been pruned and shaped over these past three years.

Iris was shaking with anger. "You used to be all about emerald green and burgundy. You once told me a woman should wear colors she can really own. And now? You dress like some kind of clone, like a mannequin straight out of a factory."

I brushed my fingers over a cashmere coat, and suddenly, I was taken back to the early days of our marriage.

There was this one time I showed up in a red dress to meet Phillip after work.

The lobby downstairs was packed with people that day.

As soon as Phillip spotted me from afar, his face immediately lost all warmth.

Once we got in the car, he turned down the AC and said in a flat tone, "Don't wear anything so loud next time."

I was still clueless enough to ask, "Don't you like it?"

He didn't answer. He just said, "It's not for you."

After that, I never wore red again.

Looking back now, it was never about red not suiting me. It was simply because red was never Laura's color.

I tossed all those pale-colored clothes to the bottom of my suitcase. And finally, from the corner, I pulled out a burgundy dress that had been tucked away for ages.

The fabric was a little creased.

Iris looked at me, took a deep breath, and urged, "Take it with you."

"Yeah," I replied.

I carefully folded the dress and placed it right on top.

It was like I was slowly rediscovering the person I was three years ago, piece by piece.

When I went downstairs, Laura was the only one in the living room.

She was wearing my house slippers, having breakfast at the table.

When she saw me dragging my suitcase, she wasn't even surprised. She just smiled.