On Our Anniversary, He Called Her Name Chapter 03

On Our Anniversary, He Called Her Name Chapter 03

River Lord stood at the bottom of the courthouse steps.

Today, she had changed her outfit.

A pale blue dress, hair tied back, face still clean and bare.

When she saw me get out of the car, she stepped back and said nothing.

Shew stood at the top of the steps, clutching the paperwork in his hand.

As I walked over, he glanced at me but didn’t move.

“Let’s go in,” I said.

He turned and walked inside.

I followed.

River didn’t come in. She stayed by the entrance.

The divorce window and the marriage license window were separated by one row of chairs.

We sat in front of the counter. The clerk was a middle-aged woman with glasses. She looked down at the paperwork without lifting her head.

“Reason for divorce?”

“Irreconcilable differences,” I said.

Shew turned to look at me.

The clerk took the agreement and flipped through it. Then she pointed to a blank section.

“Fill out the property division clearly. If there’s no child support, leave that part blank.”

I wrote my bank account number on it and handed over copies of the mortgage payment records.

The clerk glanced at them and stamped the paperwork.

The seal came down with a dull, heavy sound.

“All set.” She slid two divorce certificates across the counter. “One for each of you. Keep them safe.”

Shew didn’t move.

I reached out and took both.

After opening them and checking, I pushed his copy toward him.

“Take it.”

He looked at me and didn’t reach for it.

I placed it on the counter in front of him and stood to leave.

At the door, he called after me.

“Wait.”

I stopped.

He chased me out and stood in front of me, gripping the divorce certificate, his face pale.

“You’re just leaving?”

“What else should I do?” I said. “Invite you two to lunch?”

He suddenly laughed.

It was a strange laugh.

Not the relaxed, relieved one from that morning, but something else. His mouth twisted, while his eyes held nothing.

“I really regret it,” he said. “I regret marrying you.”

I looked at his face.

For three years, I had woken up to that face every morning.

When he slept, his brows would crease.

Sometimes he turned over and reached toward the other side of the bed.

When his hand touched me, he would pull it back and turn away.

“What did you say?”

“I said I regret it.” He looked at me, each word sharp. “I regretted it from the start. Every day of these three years, I regretted it. What I regret most is…”

I slapped him.

The sound was loud.

The staff at the entrance looked over. Everyone waiting in line turned toward us.

He held his face, stunned.

I shook out my hand.

My palm stung.

“That was for the three years I owed myself.”

Before he could speak, footsteps came from behind him.

River ran over and stood in front of him, arms spread like a mother hen guarding a chick.

“What are you doing?” She looked at me, her eyes red. “How could you hit someone? You’re crazy.”

I looked at her.

Tears filled her eyes. Her lips trembled. The way she stood there protecting him looked painfully pitiful.

I smiled.

“Crazy?”

She shrank back, then straightened again.

“He only told the truth, and you hit him? Do you know that for the past three years, before he went home every day, he sat with me for a long time? He said he didn’t want to go back. He said the thought of going home made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. He said being in the same room with you made him miserable.”

“River,” Shew said behind her. “Stop.”

She ignored him and kept going.

“He bought you gifts, and I helped him choose every single one. He said he didn’t know what you liked, so he asked me to pick. Every bouquet of flowers he brought home to you, I saw first before he dared give it to you.”

“River!”

She turned to him, tears falling.

“I feel sorry for you,” she said. “I can’t stand watching her bully you.”

Shew pulled her over and held her in his arms.

He looked at me.

I had never seen that look on his face before.

Hate.

Anger.

Concern.

Guilt.

All of it tangled together and finally became one sentence.

“Go.”

I stood there without moving.

“I was going to leave,” I said. “You were the one who called me back.”

He froze.

River lifted her head from his arms. Her tears had not dried yet as she looked at me and said softly, “Sis, don’t blame him. He’s just in a bad mood today.”

I looked at them.

He protected her.

She leaned against him.

They stood outside the courthouse like lovers who had finally survived all their suffering.

Sunlight fell on them, making them look warm.

I slipped the divorce certificate into my bag and turned down the steps.

After a few steps, I heard him behind me.

“I’ll have someone come by tomorrow for the condo. Get your things out before tonight.”

I didn’t look back.

“I saved your card number. I’ll transfer the money next week.”

I still didn’t look back.

When I reached the curb, River called after me.

“Sis!”

I stopped and looked back at her.

She ran down the steps toward me, panting.

“Sis,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

I looked at her face.

Tears clung to her cheeks. Her lashes were wet. The tip of her nose was red, her lips pressed tight, like she meant every word.

“Sorry for what?”

She paused.

“Sorry… Sorry I said all that today. I didn’t mean it. I just felt bad for him.”

“Felt bad for him about what?”

She froze again.

“About… about these three years…”

“What happened in these three years?” I said. “Did he cheat? No. Did he hit me? No. Did he mistreat me? No. He just didn’t love me. What is there to feel sorry about?”

Her mouth opened.

“River Lord,” I said, “if you really felt sorry for him, where were you these past three years? He chased you for three years, and you strung him along for three years, until you finally gave in on his wedding anniversary. Do you feel sorry for him, or do you feel sorry for yourself?”

She said nothing.

I turned and walked away.

This time, she didn’t follow.

When I reached the bus stop, my phone lit up.

A message from Shew.

“I’ll transfer the money this afternoon. I left the condo keys with the front desk. Pick them up directly. Don’t contact me again.”

I stared at that line for a long time.

The bus came.

I got on and found a seat by the window.

My phone lit up again.

Still him.

“She isn’t the kind of person you think she is. You misunderstood her.”

I shoved my phone into my pocket.

The corner of my mouth lifted.

Finally.

I was free.