Angelina's POV

"Breaking news! Crescent Group's president, Wilbur Macaulay, was spotted spending the night with a Hollywood actress once again..."

When I stumbled upon this news, I had just finished my shower and was snugly wrapped in a towel. Even though New York wasn't particularly cold during this time of year, a sudden chill inexplicably swept over me.

It appeared that something within me had shattered. Transparent droplets streamed down my not-yet-dry hair and fell to the ground.

Like a tear.

I raised my hand to touch my face. It was dry; I didn't cry.

But my body began to shudder, and my nails dug fiercely into the palm of my hand.

The photo on the TV was blurry, yet I could still make out the scene clearly. In the picture, that handsome man was kissing another woman by the window.

They hugged each other tightly, like building blocks that couldn't be pulled apart.

They looked like a picture-perfect match in every way - if the man wasn't my husband, I might genuinely feel happy for them...

Indeed, as astonishing as a Shakespearean play, the male lead in this news is none other than my husband, the president of the Crescent Group, a key player in New York's economic landscape - Wilbur Macaulay.

Frequently gracing various news outlets, he was handsome and wealthy, a dreamlike prince who undoubtedly captured the attention and admiration of countless young ladies.

The irony lay in the fact that seemingly every woman, except for me, his legal wife, had the opportunity to catch glimpses of him, to be in his presence, and to hold him close.

I knew that Wilbur had always been averse to our marriage.

The reason he married me was that my grandfather once saved his life. The Macaulay family had consulted numerous esteemed doctors across the country, but the only one capable of conducting the risky operation was my grandfather.

However, in a twist of fate, my grandfather, while agreeing to undertake the operation, presented his own condition - the Macaulay family was to take me as a bride.

Grandfather had always been a highly skilled doctor, saving lives and aiding the wounded. However, on that occasion, he made an exception because he knew how much I adored Wilbur. For my sake, he made this unusual request.

Don't be sad. Just take a deep breath and relax, Angelina...

With almost all of my strength, I finally stopped my shoulders from trembling. My lips clamped tight.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop the spreading pain within me. Like there's an invisible hand tightly clenched my heart, then tossed it into the roaring flames, setting it ablaze.

My heart was dying.

No one knew how many times I had seen such news, not even myself.

Haven't you given up yet? I asked myself.

Wilbur didn't love me, and I knew it, better than anyone else.

I tried to keep those nagging emotions away from me, reassuring myself that things would be okay, and that everything would eventually turn around.

However, my self-deception was abruptly shattered by the sudden ringing of my phone.

I answered the call. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they do.

"Hey, Angelina, I think I have to tell you... but you've got to promise me you won't explode once you hear it." I sensed something wrong, and boom, it happened. "I... I just lost our studio in a bet. Sorry, we're no longer the owner of Black Pearl..." an unpleasant voice resonated from the other end of the line.

"What?" I could barely control myself. "Damn it, what the hell have you done? How could you do that?"

Some bastard just bought out my studio!

That was my child!

Before I even graduated, I had poured my all into my studio. Over the years, it had become the culmination of my relentless efforts.

I had witnessed it grow step by step into a renowned studio within the industry. I could confidently say that it was a significant part of my life, carrying all of my passion within its walls.

"You're such a despicable asshole!" I finally lost control and yelled into the phone.

In frustration, I flung my phone onto the sofa, as if I were discarding something else along with it.

I tried to release my emotions this way. At that moment, all my calmness disappeared. I squatted down, embracing myself tightly, with open arms.

The weight of pressure and other unidentifiable emotions engulfed me like a deluge, while a deafening sound reverberated in my mind. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmingly exhausted.

In the dimly lit room, only the glow of the television filled the space. I closed my eyes, and a liquid trickled down from the corner of my eye, dropping onto the floor once more.

This time, it was my tears. I had crumbled.

Finally, I realized that my life was gradually turning into a mess. I couldn't keep my beloved, and now even my career, my very effort, was slipping through my fingers.

And all of this was because of the man on the TV who was kissing another woman!

I felt utterly depleted, as if my energy was seeping out of my body, little by little.

When I reached the pinnacle of sadness, I suddenly found myself calm about Wilbur's infidelity.

Maybe it was the accumulation of countless letdowns, but on this particular night, I had reached the point where all my hopes had been extinguished.

Why do I have to spend the rest of my life on such a dreadful thing?

It's time, I told myself. Time to shatter this beautiful fantasy I built by myself, time to burst this colorful bubble.

I lift my head from my arm, casting a glance around the empty "home."

How absurd.

We had been married for two years, yet Wilbur had never once stepped foot in this house.

Right, he did not even show up for our marriage registration. Instead, his lawyer brought his documents and completed the registration on his behalf.

My eyes then drift to the spotless kitchen I had just tidied up.

In the refrigerator lay the dinner I had prepared for Wilbur, the same dinner that had been made repeatedly for our evenings.

For the past two years, I had been cooking an extra portion each night, fervently hoping - no, fantasizing - that one sudden day, Wilbur might whimsically decide to visit and savor the delicious meal I cooked.

For two whole years I had done this.

Nothing would get better. I had no power or right to salvage this failing marriage.

Just like the untouched dinners, forever anticipating their rightful diner who would never arrive.

Did I honestly believe that Wilbur would come back? No, deep down I knew I was merely clinging to an illusion.

I stupidly wished that he would come back, gaze upon me, and know how much I loved him.

However, these two years had proven otherwise. Wilbur eloped in scandalous affairs with numerous ladies...

He neglected me, and it was even harder to accept than the fact that he has never loved me.

I had long grown used to such happenings, as common as cicadas in a rural summer.

Meanwhile, they were equally bothersome.

But now, everything was over.

I got up, picked up my phone from the sofa, and dialed Wilbur's number. It was the first time I had called him in two years.

Soon, the call went through.

"Hello, this is Angelina." I tried to make my voice sound as calm as possible.

"Angelina? Which Angelina?"

His voice was deep and attractive. Had it been before today, I might have melted at the mere sound of it.

He didn't even remember his wife's name. That was the last damn straw!

"I'm the other half mentioned on our marriage papers." My heart shattered into countless fragments, like dust carried away by the wind.

"It's you. What is it?" His tone turned colder.

I pushed my glasses up, wiped the tears off my face, and gathered myself to speak.

"I want a divorce."