1 For my twenty-ninth birthday, my husband gave me a bottle of perfume. I sprayed it on without a second thought and went into anaphylactic shock. When I finally came to in the hospital, Liam was there, a bouquet in hand, with his childhood friend, Chloe, hovering by his side. I calmly asked for a divorce. Chloe immediately rushed to his defense, her voice choked with tears. "Ava, please don't blame Liam! The perfume was my idea. I just thought the scent would be perfect for you." Liam wrapped an arm around her, comforting her, then turned to me with an impatient glare. "You'll regret this." The next time I saw Liam was a month later. After being discharged, I’d spent some time recovering at my old apartment before finally returning to our villa. The housekeeper informed me that Liam had only come back once, right after I was hospitalized, and hadn't been seen since. I wasn't surprised. This wasn't his only home. He had another one with Chloe. I took a USB drive to the study and printed out the divorce papers. Two copies. I signed my name and then called him. He arrived late that night, a gift bag dangling from his hand. Seeing me on the sofa, he casually issued his usual command. "Make me some soup. I was out with Mr. Harrison and the board. Drank too much. My stomach is killing me." He tossed the bag onto the couch and went upstairs to the master bedroom. He showered, changed into his pajamas, and then came back down. He noticed I hadn't touched the bag and pushed it toward me. "A replacement birthday gift." I didn't take it. He placed it on my lap. I stood up and set it aside. "Aren't you going to see what it is?" I tried to smile, but couldn't. I looked up at him. Our house was littered with identical gift bags. I already knew what was inside. Ever since we'd had our son, he'd put zero thought into my gifts. Skincare sets, handbags, jewelry. The styles were always the same, the brands predictable. It was as if he spent less than three minutes picking them out. He never seemed to notice that sometimes, his gifts would sit unopened for months. Only that bottle of perfume had been different. The box was unique. I’d opened it, sprayed it once, and regretted it instantly. It was rose-scented. And I am deathly allergic to roses. Even the scent is enough to trigger a reaction. I picked up the divorce papers from the coffee table and handed them to him. "My lawyer drafted these. Take a look. If there are no issues, just sign." He froze, his hand hovering over the papers. "The soup… did you make it? I'll go check." I let him escape to the kitchen. He was back in a moment, his expression grim. "You didn't make it." "I'm tired. I don't feel like it." His stomach must have genuinely been hurting. He pressed a hand to his abdomen and sat back down. I pretended not to see. He sidled up next to me, wrapping an arm around my waist, his voice suddenly soft. "Ava, I was wrong. I've just been so busy, I asked Chloe to help me pick out your gift. How about this? I'll book a restaurant, and tomorrow, we can have a proper birthday celebration. Just the two of us." I looked at him and shook my head, gently removing his hand from my waist and scooting away. His face hardened. "Why? Is it really just because of the perfume?" It wasn't just the perfume. It was because the author had stopped writing. The sweet romance novel was over. His heart had wandered, and I had developed a mind of my own. We were no longer just characters, forced to be sweet for the sake of the plot. The day after our wedding, my memories had returned. I was the female lead in a cliché romance novel. Beautiful, smart, the campus ice queen with a fatal allergy to roses. Liam was the male lead: the cold, handsome CEO-in-training with a chronic stomachache who would do anything for me. We had a sickeningly sweet college romance. After graduation, one night of passion led to an unexpected pregnancy. I had terrible morning sickness, and Liam, ever the doting partner, insisted I quit my job so he could take care of us. During the difficult months of my pregnancy, he'd scold my belly, telling our unborn son to stop tormenting me or he'd get a spanking when he came out. It was shortly after my memories returned that Chloe came back from studying abroad. She started working at Liam's family company, becoming his special assistant. That's when I learned that their families were old friends. After Chloe's parents died, Liam's family had taken her in. They were childhood sweethearts, and she had always been in love with him. And I, the supposed love of his life, had never even heard her name. A character who had never appeared in the sweet romance novel had suddenly materialized the moment it ended. But I couldn't blame Chloe. She had confessed her feelings to Liam long ago. He knew how she felt, yet he kept her by his side. His motives were his own. While I was pregnant, they traveled for business together, drank together, attended high school reunions together. In the beginning, when I'd get jealous, he would just laugh it off. Eventually, I stopped bringing it up. And Chloe silently wedged herself between us, where she remained to this day. And now he was asking if this was all about a bottle of perfume. A wave of pity washed over me. "The perfume was just the final straw." "Liam, I've wanted to divorce you for a very long time." His brow furrowed, his eyes turning cold. "Ava, are you seeing someone else?" "I forbid it!" Before I could call him insane, he lunged, pinning me to the sofa. "Liam, no!" I struggled, but he was too heavy. When his hand started to slip under my dress, I slapped him. Hard. The sting of it stopped him. His eyes were bloodshot, a cruel glint in them. "Ava, don't forget you're still my wife. Am I not even allowed to touch you anymore?" The memory of the D&C I’d had to undergo after the miscarriage flooded my mind, and my whole body began to tremble. "You disgust me." Our eyes met. I didn't back down. He finally pushed himself off me, slumping to the floor. A self-deprecating laugh escaped his lips. "So that's it. No wonder you want a divorce." "Who is he?" I said nothing. He grabbed his jacket from the sofa and stalked toward the door. "Ava, you can dream on about a divorce!" "You'd better hide him well. Because when I find out who he is, I'll kill him." As he reached the door, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. I called out his name. "Liam." He stopped but didn't turn around. "Do you love me?" I asked. He was silent. I pressed on. "If you loved me, would you keep a woman who's been in love with you for years by your side? If you loved me, would you let your mother take our son away from me, to another country?" "Liam, the day you agreed to let her take our son, I started to doubt everything you've ever said about love." He finally turned, his eyes filled with confusion. "I thought we agreed to let Mom take Ethan so we could have some time to ourselves." "You wanted that. I didn't." "He is the child I carried for ten months. I would never send him away for the sake of some 'alone time.' I'm not that kind of person." He shook his head slightly. "But we said we'd have another baby." A bitter laugh escaped me. "There is no other baby. I went into anaphylactic shock from the perfume. I miscarried." The expression on his face was beyond grim. "Why didn't you tell me when I came to the hospital?" he demanded. "I was going to tell you on my birthday. But you never came. You sent Chloe with the perfume instead." "Liam, what good would it have done to tell you?" He was silent for a long time. "We can have another child," he said finally, his voice flat. "No, we can't. Liam, let's just get a divorce." "If we don't, I don't know what I might do." I walked over to him with the papers. "Sign them." He took them. "And you, Ava? Do you still love me?" "I've let go." "Recently? Or a long time ago?" I didn't answer. He did. "A long time ago. You stopped being clingy. When I went on business trips, you stopped telling me to be safe. When I drank, you stopped telling me to drink less. The longest I was away was that trip to Moscow. I waited ten days, and you never sent me a single message. Just like tonight, with my stomach. You couldn't care less." "Ava, you were the one who stopped loving me first." "I stopped being clingy because Chloe was always with you, leaving no space for me. I stopped asking about your trips because she would post pictures of the two of you together. I stopped telling you to drink less because you were always taking drinks for her. And that trip to Moscow? I didn't message you because I saw a video of the two of you dancing intimately in a club. I didn't want to interrupt." "As for tonight… you're right. I don't love you anymore." "Liam, I'm making way for Chloe. I wish you both the best." His knuckles were white as he gripped the papers. His eyes, red and furious, watched me as he tore the documents to shreds. Then, he stormed out. I had the housekeeper clean up the mess and went back to the study. I printed ten more copies. An hour later, I saw Chloe's latest social media post. A selfie of her sitting on the edge of a bed, Liam asleep behind her. The caption read: "The man I love has never learned to love himself. If you don't love him, why can't you just let him go? Why do you have to torture him?" I took the ten copies of the divorce papers, got in my car, and drove to Chloe's house.
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