Chapter 1
At one in the morning, the pregnant widow of my husband's late partner called, saying there was a shadow outside her window and she was too scared to turn off the lights.
My husband, who had just spent three days and nights without sleep rescuing people from a landslide, didn't even think twice before rushing out to keep her company.
He didn't return home until the sun came up.
"It's not easy for Emily to take care of the baby all by herself, especially with her due date coming up. She really can't afford to be startled," he said.
Seeing me still sitting on the couch without reacting, he let out a sigh and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
"Emily is Alex's widow, and she's pregnant. As Alex's partner, I have a responsibility to look after her. But I promise I'll cut back on how often I go over there. Don't be upset, okay?" he said.
I calmly pushed his hand off my shoulder, not going to make excuses for him anymore.
"Let's get a divorce," I said.
*****
Michael's cheeks were sunken from exhaustion, his uniform jacket was still dusty, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look like he might drop any second.
There were scratches on the back of his hand, left untreated, with blood dried into dark scabs.
When he heard me, he froze for a second, then quickly tossed his jacket onto the couch and leaned in, rubbing his head against my shoulder, just like he always did whenever he'd pissed me off.
"Come on, don't say that just because you're upset. I promise I won't go over there anymore, okay? I'll have someone else from the squad look after Emily," he said.
People would never believe that the rescue captain who could dig survivors out of the rubble with his bare hands would come home and act all soft and clingy with me.
It was exactly that contrast—the tough hero outside, the soft husband at home—that drew me in. Even knowing his job could bring danger to our doorstep, I still married him without hesitation.
But now, I turned away from him and got up, putting some distance between us.
"I'm not saying this just because I'm upset. Go ahead and keep taking care of Emily," I said.
"But the divorce is non-negotiable," I added.
Michael's brow furrowed, and for a moment, that commanding aura he used on his team slipped out. But when he saw how calm I was, he forced it back down.
He half-squatted, scooting over to my knees, and pressed his forehead against me like a guilty puppy.
"I messed up, honey. When I took on this responsibility, I didn't even think about your feelings. I already barely get to spend time with you, and now I have to split that time with someone else. And you always get jealous, don't you?" he said.
"I made my sweet wife wait up all night, angry at me. I'm totally in the wrong, but I haven't slept in four days and nights. I'm about to crash. Let me get some rest, and then I'll apologize properly to my little jealous wife," he added.
He yawned, took my hand, and tried to lead me toward the bedroom.
Anyone who heard him would probably be on his side.
He was dead on his feet, but still managed to put up with his dramatic wife at home.
But I wasn't buying it.
I yanked my hand away and, enunciating each word, said, "I said I want a divorce!"
Michael was caught off guard and stumbled back, knocking over the vase we had crafted together.
Shards of porcelain scattered across the floor.
He looked down at the broken pieces, finally coming to his senses.
After holding back his anger all night, my repeated demands for a divorce finally pushed him over the edge.
"I've already apologized, and I promised I'd keep my distance from Emily. Why are you still not satisfied?" he said.
"You said the word 'divorce' shouldn't be thrown around lightly, but you've said it twice today. What exactly are you trying to do?" he asked.
He even remembered something I just blurted out.
Even though it was just a joke I made when I was drunk, hanging onto him.
"Michael, I'm not jealous, and I don't need you to comfort me. I just want a divorce," I said.
"I want to be completely separated from you," I added.