He Miscalculated Me

Synopsis

I earned 2,000 dollars a month. He earned 300,000 dollars a year. By our fifth year of marriage, he slammed a divorce agreement in front of me, his tone as cold and calculating as someone liquidating a long-overdue investment: "Let's divorce. You can't keep up with my world." I smiled and signed it without hesitation. The day I moved out, he sent me a private message: [Delete the contact. We'll never contact each other again.] I stared at the screen, then typed a single word back. The next day, he was standing outside my office building, face pale, as if he had just realized he had miscalculated the most crucial part of the equation.