Chapter 3

My new life was more peaceful than I'd imagined.

I changed my phone number, and apart from Myron and a few of my closest friends, no one could reach me.

I worked during the day, read and exercised at home in the evenings, and had small get-togethers with friends on weekends.

Life was simple and full.

Now and then I thought of Percival, but there was no longer any ripple in my heart.

It was like a bad cold: while you're sick you feel like you're dying, but once you're better, it's really nothing.

That day, I was working late at the office when a text came in from an unknown number.

"Aria, this is Roberta. I want to apologize to you in person."

I frowned and deleted it right away.

Not long after, another message came from the same number.

"I know you don't want to see me. But there are a few things I have to tell you."

"Percival told me your marriage was just for show, that the two of you had lost all feeling for each other long ago."

"He said you had someone else in your heart, and he just didn't want to expose it, so he kept up a surface peace."

"He said that once this mission was over and he made senior engineer, he'd divorce you."

My hand trembled.

So that was it.

It wasn't a moment of confusion, and it wasn't a drunken slip.

It was a premeditated betrayal, a carefully calculated deception.

He'd even lined up a high-sounding reason for our separation long ago.

He cast me as a fickle, promiscuous woman who had cheated first.

And he was the victim, the one who suffered in silence and put the bigger picture first.

How laughable.

A wave of nausea churned in my stomach.

I rushed into the bathroom and threw up until the world went dark.

My phone rang. It was Myron.

"Still not off work?"

My voice came out choked with tears, without my even noticing.

"Myron…"

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end.

"Wait for me at the office. I'll be right there."

Half an hour later, Myron showed up at my office with a bowl of plain porridge and some stomach medicine.

He didn't ask what had happened. He just set the things down on the desk.

"Drink some while it's hot. It'll help."

I looked at him, and the tears fell before I could stop them.

All the strength and the pretense I'd kept up these past few days crumbled under his gentle gaze.

I cried like a child.

He didn't try to talk me out of it. He just stayed quietly with me, handing me a tissue now and then.

Only after I'd cried myself out did he speak.

"Say it if you want to. Don't, if you don't."

"If the sky falls, I've got you."

I shook my head and wiped my eyes.

"It's nothing. I just suddenly realized I used to be such a fool."

He sighed, reached out, and gently ruffled my hair.

The gesture was light, with a soothing strength to it.

"Not a fool."

"Just too kind."

"Aria, I've already handled most of the divorce process for you. The court summons should reach him soon."

"You don't have to worry about anything. Just take care of yourself."

I nodded, and warmth welled up in my chest.

That night, I had a dream.

In it, I was back at the time when Percival and I had just gotten married.

He was just like this then, gently ruffling my hair when I was sick or upset.

Saying, "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

When I woke, a patch of my pillow was wet.

I sat up and looked out at the pitch-black night.

I knew, clearly, that there was no going back.

Some things, once they happen, have simply happened.

Some wounds, even after they scab over, leave ugly scars.

A few days later, I saw Percival on TV.

As an outstanding young representative, he was doing an exclusive interview for the city television station.

On camera he wore a crisp uniform, sharp and spirited, talking with easy confidence.

The host asked him, "Engineer Dickerson, you've achieved so much in the aerospace field. Surely none of it would have been possible without your family's support?"

Percival gave the camera a gentle smile.

"Yes."

"My wife has sacrificed a great deal for me."

"I'm away from home most of the year, and she manages everything at home all on her own."

"She gave me the most stable home base, so I could chase the stars and the sea with no distractions."

"Without her, there would be no me today."

"I'd like to take this chance to say to her: honey, thank you for all your hard work."

He spoke with such heartfelt sincerity that his eyes even reddened slightly.

The studio broke into moved applause.

I was standing under the big electronic screen at the mall, and the people around me were all sighing over it.

"This Engineer Dickerson is such a good man—handsome and devoted."

"His wife is so lucky."

Lucky?

I only found it ironic.

He'd turned our marriage into a backdrop for his perfect image.

In front of a national audience, he'd put on a tender, devoted one-man show.

My phone started buzzing like crazy.

There were my parents' numbers, our mutual friends', and some I didn't recognize.

Without exception, they were all blaming me.

"Aria, what on earth are you doing? Percival went that far and you still won't forgive him?"

"You're being ridiculous. You don't want a husband that good?"

"Just come home. Stop making a spectacle of yourself."

I turned off my phone.

The world went quiet.

But before long, one call stubbornly forced its way through.

It was Percival.

"Aria, did you see the TV?"

"Every word I said came from the heart."

"Come back. Let's start over, okay?"

There was a note of expectation and smugness in his voice.

As if he'd done something remarkable, and I ought to be grateful and come running back to his side.

I took a deep breath and made my voice sound steady.

"Percival."

"You weren't giving an interview. You were performing."

"A disgusting, hypocritical one-man show."

There was silence on the other end.

I went on.

"The divorce hearing is next week."

"After this, don't contact me again."

When I finished, I hung up.

Blocked.

From then on, however far apart, we would never meet again.