Chapter 2

The lights at Willow Embroidery Studio were still on.

My mentor, Thomas Jackson, was sitting on the doorstep, smoking. When he saw me dragging my suitcases in, he nearly dropped his cigarette.

"So you finally made up your mind?" he asked.

I set my suitcases down in front of him.

"Yeah," I said.

Thomas looked me over for a while, then broke into a grin. "Glad to see you haven't lost all your marbles."

I plopped down beside him and took the keys from his hand. "Is my old room upstairs still there?"

"Of course. Who'd dare touch anything your grandma left for you?" Grumbling as always, he still got up to carry my suitcases.

My grandma was a legendary embroiderer in Willow City.

The Willow Embroidery Studio she left behind wasn't big, but it had a loyal following of regulars.

I grew up here, and by the time I was thirteen, I could already stitch a double-sided cat all by myself.

After I married Andrew, I locked myself up in the Sullivan residence.

Andrew never liked me putting myself out there.

He once told me, "If you like embroidery, keep it as a hobby. But don't go selling your work. You're my wife, and you aren't short on cash."

Back then, I really believed him.

I believed that he loved me, so I wanted him to see me.

But later I realized that he only wanted me to stay silent.

He wanted me to say nothing, make no mistakes, and stay out of sight, like some ornament, tucked away in a corner.

No one had stayed in the little room upstairs for a long time.

My old embroidery frame was still by the window. On the fabric, a half-finished moon glimmered, the needle resting in the corner, as if it had been waiting for me all these years.

I sat down and gently traced my fingers over the stretched cloth.

Thomas leaned against the doorframe.

"Did that Sullivan kid give you a hard time?" he asked.

I looked down and threaded the needle. "It's nothing."

"Nothing? Then why are you dragging your suitcase back here in the middle of the night?"

I bit off the thread. "We're divorced."

Thomas fell silent for a moment, then turned and headed downstairs.

I thought he was feeling sorry for me, but then I heard him shout from downstairs, "May, grab two pounds of ribs. Grace got divorced. Let's celebrate tonight."

I almost burst out laughing. But before I could, my eyes grew hot with tears.

May Grant's voice boomed from downstairs. "For real? Then make it three pounds. This is indeed something worth celebrating."

People started poking their heads out from the alley.

"Grace is back?"

"Did she really get divorced?"

"That's great. That Sullivan guy never looked like a decent man anyway."

I leaned by the window, watching those familiar faces.

They didn't ask me why, and no one said it was embarrassing for a woman to get divorced.

They just said, "It's good to have you back."

I stayed up all night.

I sat at my embroidery frame and finished stitching the moon I'd abandoned halfway.

By dawn, a branch of crabapple blossoms had bloomed beside the moon.

The stitches were fine and exquisite, and the crabapple blossoms glowed with vibrant color.

At 8:30 a.m., I showed up right on time at the courthouse.

Andrew was fifteen minutes late.

When he got out of the car, his black coat was still damp from the rain.

Vivian was there too. She stayed in the car, never stepping out.

Through the car window, Vivian gave me a soft, confident smile, like she was sure that I was simply putting on a show today.

Andrew walked up to me, and the first thing he said was, "You had a tantrum all night. Feeling better now?"

I handed him my ID. "Let's go inside," I said.

He didn't take it. "Grace, I'm asking you one last time. Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure."

"Once we're divorced, don't think about coming back to the Sullivan residence."

I looked up at him.

"Don't worry." I paused, then added, "That place is too dirty for me."

His face darkened. "Do you really have to say it like that?"

"You can't stand hearing harsh words for a single day, Andrew. But I've endured them for three years."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but it was time for us to go to court.

I walked in first.

Andrew stood there for a few seconds, then finally followed me in.

The whole process went by in a flash.

When it came time to sign, Andrew's pen hovered over the paper for what felt like forever.

I'd already signed and was sitting off to the side, waiting for him.

The staff glanced between us, then looked at him.

"Sir, please sign here," the staff said.

Andrew looked up at me. "So you're really not sad at all?" he asked.

I smiled. "You weren't there when I was sad."

His hand froze.

I didn't rush him.

Outside, Vivian stepped out of the car, umbrella in hand, standing at the foot of the steps.

She was waiting to claim her victory.

When Andrew saw her, he finally put pen to paper. He pressed down so hard that it looked like he might tear right through the page.

The moment I got my divorce certificate, I let out a long breath.

I didn't feel painful. Instead, I felt like a weight had finally been lifted off my shoulders.

Andrew gripped the papers tightly, his voice cold. "Grace, you'll come back begging me."

I slipped the divorce certificate into my bag.

"Go ahead and wait," I said.

Vivian walked over.

"All done?" she asked.

She turned to me, her voice soft. "Ms. Miller, I'm sorry. I really didn't think things would end up like this."

I looked at her gentle face under the umbrella.

"Miss Shaw, you knew exactly what you were doing," I said, stepping forward. "You just didn't expect me to let go so quickly."

Her smile faded.

Andrew stepped in front of her.

"Grace, don't assume everyone is as messed up as you," he said.

I nodded. "Fine."

I turned to leave, but Andrew suddenly called out, "Where are you staying?"

I paused for a moment. "None of your business."

"Grace," he said, his tone cold and unyielding. "Don't go staying in some random place to get back at me. If you have nowhere to go, I can arrange something for you."

I turned to look at him. "Are you going to put me in the storage room?"

This time, he didn't say a word.

I didn't look back at him.