Chapter 1

Because my husband, Charles Newman, surprised me with a Hermès Birkin, I, Miriam Reed, asked for a divorce.

He blinked, clueless. "What are you pitching a fit about now?"

I gave him a look that even I couldn't soften.

I said, "I told you last week I already bought that exact bag. Were you even listening?

"If you had listened, you'd know I only wanted you to take half a day and shoot our wedding portraits with me."

How hard was a photo session? Just four hours out of his calendar.

Yet after six years of marriage, we still didn't have a single framed bridal photo.

I had run every mile of this relationship, and I was still parked at the starting line of being valued.

I set my phone down and repeated it. "Charles, I want a divorce. I mean it."

*****

Bringing up divorce wasn't something I just decided on a whim.

It felt like Charles and I were always headed for this, sooner or later.

I couldn't even remember the last time we argued.

People always said we seemed harmonious, never even raising our voices at each other. But only I knew the truth. What looked like harmony was just a facade. The disappointment was all too real.

Charles started to say something, but I stopped him.

"I've got a meeting tomorrow. I don't feel like arguing with you. Let's just go to bed," I said.

Charles looked panicked. He grabbed my hand, trying to explain. "Mimi..."

Charles used to call me "Mimi." But after we got married, that nickname disappeared. He hadn't called me that in years.

Most of the time, he just went with "Ms. Reed." So formal, it was like we were business partners instead of husband and wife.

At first, I couldn't understand why someone so young would choose such a stiff, official title for his own wife.

I always thought he was just uptight, until I happened to see his old messages with his ex. Turned out, back when he was in love, he called her "honey" all the time.

So he wasn't old-fashioned at all. He just saved all his warmth and sweetness for someone else, not me.

I couldn't help but scoff, yanking my hand out of his grip.

"Charles, we're adults. We don't have to spell everything out," I said, my voice flat. "It's pathetic."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, steadying himself before speaking in a controlled tone, "Ms. Reed, I think we need to have a real conversation. If now isn't a good time, we can talk another day."

He was always like this. Calm, unshakable, as if nothing in the world could ever touch him.

Even when I brought up divorce, he absorbed it in under three minutes, not a flicker of emotion crossing his face the whole time.

I gave a cold laugh. "Sure, whenever I have time."

After a fight, it was our tradition to sleep in separate rooms. That night, I had the master bedroom all to myself. I thought I'd be up all night, but surprisingly, I slept like a baby.

The next morning, I did a double-take when I saw Charles. His hair was all over the place, and those dark circles under his eyes were hard to miss. He rarely looked this rough.

There was no fancy breakfast on the table, and no warm greeting.

Charles seemed a bit out of place, but he kept it to himself.

It wasn't until he was changing that he finally walked over, fidgeting with his shirt, looking pretty uncomfortable.

"Where's my blue tie?" he asked.

I paused, then said, "All your ties are in the third drawer at the bottom of your closet. Next time, just look for yourself."

He pursed his lips and didn't say another word.

By our second year of marriage, seeing how hard Charles was hustling to build his company, I gave up my passion for creating perfumes. I stepped into the background, just a shareholder, living the easy life.

Back then, my whole world revolved around him. I felt bad seeing him live off takeout, and my heart ached when he landed in the hospital with stomach issues.

I put him first in everything, until I forgot who I was.

Now, it finally hit me. Maybe it was about time I started looking out for myself.

The next day, Charles came home early. He'd cooked up a whole spread, even going the extra mile with fancy plating, something he almost never did.

I gave it a quick glance and headed for the study, but he stepped in front of me.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

I thought for a second. There was no point dragging this out.

I said, "Not tonight. I'm free tomorrow afternoon. Let's meet at the café downstairs from your office."

Since we were getting divorced, it didn't make sense to keep living together. So I booked a moving service for tomorrow morning.

After that, I hopped on a call with my business partner overseas.

We quickly caught up on the latest and started prepping for the launch of our new product.

Back when I was just focused on R&D, I barely paid attention to this stuff. But thanks to Charles, I'd picked up a thing or two about business along the way.

Now, handling all this was a breeze.

For once, I had to admit, even being totally lovesick had its perks.