A Shattered Marriage

The wind outside the courthouse was bone-chilling.

I stood on the steps, a divorce agreement clutched in my hand. Memories from my past life flooded backa tide of pure agony. I had knelt right here, begging for three whole hours, while Isabella sat in her car, never even bothering to roll down the window.

I cried until I collapsed and a stranger had to take me to the hospital.

For two years after that, I continued to grovel, a walking corpse clinging to the wreckage of our marriage, trying to piece it back together.

Finally, on our seventh wedding anniversary, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills.

As the darkness drowned me, my last thought was: Will she regret this?

The moment I woke up, reborn, a message glowed on my phone: "Noah. Courthouse, 10 a.m. today. For the divorce."

My hand trembled. Every instinct screamed at me to go back to being the husband who loved her more than life itself.

But the memory of death was too vivid.

The cold, the hopelessness, the suffocation. And all those nights I had waited like a dog for a single glance from her.

Not again.

I had to live for myself this time.

A black Bentley pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and Isabella stepped out, her long dress trailing, her expression serene.

The moment she saw me, her brow furrowed slightly, as if surprised that I had shown up on my own.

"Noah." Her voice was soft but distant. "It's cold out here. Let's go inside."

I took a deep breath. My voice trembled, but I held it steady. "Ms. Vance, I agree to the divorce."

Isabella froze, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. She even managed a small, relieved smile. "Noah, I'm glad you've come to your senses. I thought"

"But," I cut her off, "the assets will have to be re-divided."

The smile on her face hardened.

"What do you mean?"

"According to marital law, all shared assets are to be split equally." I fought to keep the tremor out of my voice.

The warmth on Isabella's face froze for a second before returning. "Noah, that's a very hurtful thing to say. I haven't treated you poorly all these years. How could you"

I interrupted her again, holding out a file. "This is a list prepared by my lawyer."

Isabella took the document, her eyes scanning it quickly. Her expression changed instantly.

"Noah, are you joking?" Her voice was still gentle, but an icy edge had crept in. "I thought you had finally learned to be reasonable. I see now you were just waiting for this."

"I'm just asking for what I deserve."

"What you deserve?" she said, her tone like she was scolding a child. "Noah, what have you done for this family in the last three years? You hide at home all day with that obscure research of yours, spending my money, living in my house, using my resources. I'm willing to give you a million dollars in this divorce. You should be grateful, not trying to carve up my assets."

Her words were daggers. Tears welled in my eyes.

She had said the exact same thing in my past life.

She called me a parasite. She said I was unworthy of her. She said I had nothing but a pretty face.

Back then, I believed her. I truly thought I was worthless.

But this time

"Ms. Vance," I said, taking another deep breath. "You have two months. Otherwise, I'll see you in court."

With that, I turned and walked away. My legs felt weak, and my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from my chest.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to walk ten meters before I dared to stop, tears streaming silently down my face.

It was the first time in my life

I hadn't given in.

Back at home, I collapsed onto the sofa, my entire body shaking.

I looked around at the house I had meticulously decorated for three years. Every corner held a piece of my soul. The set of academic models in the studyI had pulled countless all-nighters to build them. Isabellas only comment had been a dismissive "they're fine."

The core project proposals for her companyI was the one who stayed up all night researching, analyzing the market, and creating the frameworks for her. Her haute couture gowns in the walk-in closetI had ironed every single one by hand, ensuring not a single crease was out of place.

In my last life, I did these things until the day I died.

She never once said, "Thank you for your hard work."

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Isabella: "There's an important company gala tomorrow night. Be ready in your suit at seven to accompany me."

The old me would have instantly replied, "Of course," thinking it was a sign she wanted to reconcile. I would have spent the entire day preparing, then stood by her side like a perfect accessory, saying all the right things, smiling the perfect smile.

Now, I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling for a full ten minutes.

A voice inside me screamed: You can't say no to her! You're still her husband

But in the end, I typed out a single line: "Ms. Vance, we are getting a divorce. You should ask your secretary, Ryan."

I hit send, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The phone rang almost immediately.

I took a deep breath and answered.

Isabella's voice was as gentle as if she were soothing a child. "Are you throwing a tantrum again? I know you're upset, but tomorrow's gala is incredibly important. You know when I need you most, don't you? Ryan is just a secretary; he can't accompany me to an event like this. Only you can help me."

"I'm not going to the gala."

I bit my lip. I knew this script all too well.

Whenever I tried to refuse, she would use this tactic. First, gently affirm my value. Then, imply that only I could help her. Finally, make me feel that if I said no, I was the one at fault.

Isabella was silent for a moment, then continued in a helpless tone. "Alright. But Noah, I think we need to talk. You might be acting on impulse, but a divorce needs to be handled rationally. I don't want this to end up in court. It wouldn't be good for either of us."

"I am being rational. Probably the most rational I've been in my entire life."

"Are you sure?" Isabella chuckled softly. "Noah, do you know what a lawsuit entails? It means our private lives will be exposed. It means you'll never be able to hold your head up in this circle again."

I tightened my grip on the phone. "Are you threatening me?"

A pained sigh. "Noah, you're really hurting me when you talk like that. Have I been anything but good to you all these years? What have you ever wanted that I haven't given you? Have you ever once considered my feelings? Are you under too much stress? An old classmate of mine is a psychiatrist; I can make an appointment for you. It's normal for men to get tense at a certain age. It can affect your mood."

I froze.

Isabella always dismissed my legitimate requests as me being emotional, irrational, or having some kind of mental problem.

Over time, I had actually started to believe I was sick.

"The one who's sick is you," I said, enunciating every word.

Her voice remained gentle. "Noah, even though our marriage wasn't happy, I never wanted to hurt you. I'm willing to give you a million dollars in the settlement. That's enough for you to live on for a very long time. Why do you have to make things so ugly?"

Every word was a knife in my heart.

Before, hearing this would have made me break down, would have convinced me I was worthless.

But now, I suddenly remembered.

The project that doubled her company's market valueI did the core strategy.

The product design that won her an industry awardthe inspiration came from a suggestion I made offhandedly.

The priceless antique collection at her family's estateI was the one who authenticated and curated it, piece by piece.

I was not a parasite.

I was just so in love with her that I had willingly given her all the credit.

"Isabella." My voice was calm. "Two months from now, I'll see you in court."

I hung up.

Then I turned off my phone.

The next day, Isabella came to the house.

She stood at the door with a gentle smile, holding a bouquet of blue roses and a document folder.

"Noah, open the door. Let's talk."

I watched her through the peephole, not moving.

She stood outside for ten minutes, knocking several times, her voice always soft. "Noah, I know you're in there. I might have spoken a little harshly yesterday, and I apologize. But you have to understand, I just don't want to see you do something foolish."

I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Isabella walked in, placing the roses and the folder on the table. She looked at me, a hint of pity in her eyes. "Noah, you look exhausted. Didn't you sleep well?"

She had said that countless times. Every time I stayed up all night working on a proposal for her, she would ask with the same feigned concern, then immediately turn to her own affairs, never waiting for an answer.

"Let's get to the point," I said, trying to remain calm.

"Alright." Isabella opened the folder. "I've had a new agreement drawn up. You get this house, plus one million in cash. Noah, this is the best offer I can make."

I glanced at the agreement and sneered. "This house is worth two million. You think you can buy me off for a total of three?"

"Noah, don't be greedy," Isabella frowned. "You know, I barely recognize you lately. You used to be so understanding, so gentle. Now you've become so"

I looked at her, at this face I once loved so desperately.

Now, it was the face of a stranger.

"Isabella, you're willing to divorce me for your secretary, but you're not willing to pay a fair price. You asked me what I've contributed?" I met her gaze. "Ms. Vance, your 'Starfall Initiative' that doubled the company's valuewho did the core strategy for you?"

Isabella's face changed.

"The design inspiration for your best-selling productswho provided it?" I continued. "The antique collection at your family's estatewho authenticated it for you? For every business negotiation you had, who compiled the research? And for every client dinner, who was the one drinking with you until they ended up with bleeding ulcers?"

"Noah" Isabella was silent for a few seconds, then sighed. "Noah, those were things you were supposed to do as my husband."

"Supposed to do?" I laughed. "So my five years of contributions, in your eyes, were just my duty?"

"Noah, don't confuse the issue," Isabella's tone sharpened. "You helped me with those things because you were my husband. And I gave you a life of luxury because you were my husband. We're even."

"Even?" I stared at her. "Ms. Vance, do you have any idea how much profit those projects brought you? Hundreds of millions, not to mention your current standing in the business world. How is that even?"

Isabella's face was livid. "Noah, don't push it. Those projects were the achievements of my company. What do they have to do with you?"

"What if I were to release the initial drafts of those proposals?" I said calmly. "Release the email records, proving that your core projects were, in fact, led by me?"

The color drained from Isabella's face.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" I looked at her. "Ms. Vance, I have nothing left to lose. But you? Your business reputation, your social status, everything you're so proud of are you sure you want to risk it all?"

Isabella stared at me, her eyes turning dark.

After a long silence, she suddenly laughed, a sound laced with mockery. "Noah, how did I never realize you had this in you?"

"Because the old me was too in love with you to see anything else," my voice was flat. "But now, I'm not."

The smile on Isabella's face froze.

She stared at me for a long time, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes.

"You really don't love me anymore?" she asked suddenly, her voice testing the waters.

"That's right," my voice was firm. "I don't."

Isabella's gaze darkened.

She turned to leave, tossing one last sentence over her shoulder. "Noah, you'll regret this."

The door slammed shut.

I collapsed onto the sofa, the tears finally breaking free.

I wasn't really that strong.

I was just pretending.