One Hundred Urns

After ten years of marriage, Muriel cheated on me ninety-nine times.

I never divorced her because before our wedding, she bought 100 urns.

You've always loved rituals. If I'm unfaithful to you after marriage, you can put the evidence in an urn.

When all 100 boxes are used up, our marriage will be truly dead, and I'll leave with nothing.

Later, she seemed to have forgotten about it.

When she toured Provence with a popular male streamer to see the lavender fields, I put the photos taken by a private investigator into an urn.

When she accompanied a rising painter on his global exhibition tour, I placed ticket stubs marked with lipstick into another box.

Until our tenth wedding anniversary, she never showed up for the scheduled prenatal checkup.

She went to celebrate her sponsored male student Robinson's birthday instead.

"Leonardo, I couldn't bear to let Robinson spend his birthday alone. You've always been generous, so you should understand."

"After I finish celebrating with him, I'll go to the prenatal checkup myself."

I gripped my phone, my fingertips white with pressure. "There's only one urn left."

"How unlucky," she said, her tone displeased. "Today is Robinson's birthdaywhy are you randomly bringing up urns?"

I didn't argue further and hung up.

Since she didn't want the chance I gave her, I had no choice but to make her leave with nothing.

Muriel canceled the prenatal checkup.

I wanted to ask the doctor when her next appointment was.

No matter how hurt I felt, she was still the mother of our child. How could I feel at ease letting her go to checkups alone?

But the doctor hesitated, then handed me an abortion surgery form.

"Ms. Muriel... came this morning, but she had an abortion instead."

"She requested confidentiality, but I believe you have the right to know."

Muriel didn't know this was a hospital under the Leonardo Group. It was nearly impossible for her to hide anything from me here.

It seemed the birthday gift she gave Robinson was an abortion report.

I returned home alone and numbly opened the 100th urn.

With a "click."

Two documents fell outa signed divorce agreement and a notarized statement of Muriel's voluntary agreement to leave with nothing.

Below them was a note, the handwriting youthful and spirited.

[Leonardo, you've suffered enough. Move forward, don't look back.]

Twenty-year-old Muriel, reaching across the years, felt sorry for me.

Thirty-year-old Muriel had long since given that tenderness to someone else.

Expressionless, I placed the abortion surgery form inside.

I closed the lid, sealing away our ten-year marriage along with it.

My phone lit up with a photo from her.

Fireworks blazed brilliantly in the night sky, illuminating Robinson's gentle profile.

"Don't you love watching fireworks? Make a wish."

I looked around in silence.

These were the decorations I'd prepared early for our tenth anniversary.

The walls were covered with our photos together, from school uniforms to wedding dress.

Balloons covered the floor, string lights wound around the entire room.

But the petals had wilted and the frosting had melted.

Outside the window, the fireworks lighting up half the city bloomed for someone else.

I only replied: [Come home early.]

Such a simple wish, but she didn't respond.

Her silence was her answer.

I sat in the darkness until dawn, when she finally returned.

Behind her came gift boxes that filled half the living room.

A rare black diamond from Sotheby's, a nineteenth-century oil painting I'd once lingered over, a custom Swiss watch...

"Anniversary gifts. Do you like them?"

She knew I valued rituals, yet she insisted on making up for them after the fact.

She always did thiscasually using gifts to cover up conflicts, as if my pain didn't matter at all.

I pushed the divorce agreement toward her. "Sign it."

She paused, then a smile rippled in her eyes.

"So obedient? You know I'm going to marry Robinson?"

My fingertips trembled violently.

She seemed oblivious, took the document, and signed her name smoothly.

"He's young and sees me as his whole world. He's begging to marry meI don't want to disappoint him."

"You did well. What reward do you want? After the baby is born, we can travel as a family of three, okay?"

She reached out to touch my face.

I dodged calmly, my tone flat. "There won't be a baby."

Her fingers froze, her probing gaze falling on my face.

"You know how hard it was for us to have this child. Don't say things like that anymore."

She probably thought I didn't know the child was already gone and still had to pretend to cherish it.

I laughed bitterly.

I thought only I remembered.

I remembered the pain and devastation when she miscarried our first child eight years ago after drinking at a business dinner with me.

I remembered how I feltguilty and lostwhen the doctor said she'd have difficulty conceiving again.

I remembered her day and night companionship and comfort, saying that a lifetime with just the two of us would be good too.

I remembered eight years of hoping and disappointment while trying to conceive together.

I remembered crying tears of joy when we finally had our second child.

The vows still echoed in my ears, yet now she had thrown the child away herself.

She stared at my smile and suddenly asked, "Why are you crying?"

I was startled. I raised my hand and indeed felt coldness all over my face.

Her expression became complicated, her tone softening.

"Don't worry, no one can replace your position in my heart."

"I'll only hold the ceremony without getting a marriage license. Once I've appeased him, I'll remarry you."

I looked at her deeply. "Didn't you say you'd reward me? Travel with me. Let's leave nowdon't wait for the baby to be born."

She avoided my gaze. "I still need to prepare for the wedding..."

"I understand." I nodded.

I was too calm. Panic flashed in her eyes, and for once she explained: "I'm just afraid if we go now, I won't be able to focus on you..."

Before she finished speaking, her phone suddenly rang.

A young man said tearfully that he woke up and couldn't find her. Her voice immediately changed pitch as she coaxed him while walking toward the door.

At the doorway, she covered the phone and tossed out "I'll go with you next time," then hurriedly disappeared through the entrance.

The words "next time" opened up a vast distance between us.

I dialed a number that had been dormant for a long time.

"Dad, I want to come home."

"How about I give you the Muriel Group as a welcome-home gift?"

I began packing my luggage, preparing for a farewell trip.

The end of a ten-year marriage also needed a ritual.

It wasn't until I zipped up my suitcase that I saw Muriel's message.

"Robinson likes this house. Move outI need to redecorate it as our wedding home."

My heart felt like it was being crushed by needles, pain spreading densely through it.

Ten years was truly too longso long that she'd forgotten this house was the one I bought with all my savings back then.

When we got married, she had nothing. Forget buying a houseshe couldn't even afford a wedding.

We only registered our marriage.

I didn't mind, but she cried more pitifully than I did, her voice shaking.

"You're giving up your comfortable life as heir to the Leonardo Groupwhat exactly do you see in me?"

I smiled. "I see your true heart."

She buried her face in my chest and swore: "I will never betray you in this lifetime."

At first, she would proactively send video check-ins wherever she went.

She would hold me tight when I had insomnia and tell me stories all night long.

As long as she was home, I never washed a single dish or cooked a single meal.

When did things start to change?

Questions I couldn't figure outI simply stopped thinking about them.

Things that had gone badI simply discarded them.

I called housekeeping to pack up and throw away all her belongings.

I also changed the locks so no one but me could enter.

After arranging everything, I dragged my suitcase straight to the airport.

Along the way, mall screens were all broadcasting the wedding news of her and Robinson.

The way she looked at him was so tender it seemed to overflow.

I smiled mockingly at myself.

I thought her growing coldness was the iron will and composure honed by the business world.

It turned out the bright moon simply hung high, refusing to shine on me alone.

Fortunately, nature embraces everyone gently.

I went to East Africa to see wildebeest migrations, to Hokkaido to see falling red leaves, to New Zealand to see lupines covering the mountains.

My last stop was Norway.

The aurora seemed alive, moving like sprites in the night sky.

In the silence, I could only hear the thundering of my own heartbeat.

It turned out watching the aurora alone could also be romantic.

I remembered when the company first went public, she bought a pair of diamond ringsthe best she could afford at the time.

When she knelt on one knee, her eyes looking up at me seemed filled with an entire galaxy.

"When I have more money later, I'll replace them with bigger diamond rings."

"Maybe I won't be so busy then. I'll take you to Norway to see the aurora you've always talked about, and give you a proper wedding trip."

"Let's plan it for our tenth anniversary, okay?"

Now, the shadow on the ground was so lonely it seemed to mock the worthlessness of her promise.

I took a photo and posted it on Twitter.

[Be my own light, no longer chasing anyone.]

Scrolling down, I saw that Muriel, who had never posted about me once on Twitter, had posted many updates.

She refused to accompany me, yet she flew around the world with Robinson.

Under the Eiffel Tower, in the dusk of Prague's Old Town Square, on Venice's waterways... all bore the sweet couple photos of the two of them.

The limited-edition Patek Philippe watch on his wrist had a sapphire-studded dial that shone blindingly.

That was the heirloom collection piece she'd bought at auction last month for nine million.

When interviewed by the media, she said it was a gift for her lover.

I thought she would personally put it on me on our tenth anniversary, but I was just being presumptuous.

The journey was coming to an end.

I stopped by to inspect a hotel under the Leonardo Group.

Since I'd decided to go home, I should familiarize myself with the family business in advance.

When checking in, the staff bowed respectfully.

"How long will Mr. Leonardo be staying? Please let us know if you need anything."

I didn't want to alert anyone and just asked the staff to treat me normally.

Even for an inspection, I wanted peace and quiet.

But even this small wish was easily shattered.

While walking in the garden, I saw Muriel and Robinson.

Several photographers surrounded them, taking wedding photos.

She carefully adjusted his tie, her every movement showing a focus I hadn't seen in ages.

So this wasn't an ordinary trip.

The wedding trip she promised meshe gave it to someone else.

Seeing me, Muriel instinctively frowned.

"I said I'd go with you next time. Why did you follow us here?"

"We're already divorced. Mind your boundaries."

Before I could speak, Robinson tugged on her sleeve, drawing out his voice. "Muriel, don't be so fierce."

"I happen to be having trouble choosing my next groom's outfit. Why don't you let Leonardo help me pick?"

Her expression softened slightly, and she nodded. "That's fine. His taste is decent."

When the design sketches were handed over, my hand shook and I almost couldn't hold the tablet.

Both tailcoats were designs I'd made in my youth.

Back then, we'd only been together a short while.

I still had a young man's mind, fantasizing about everything every day.

Fantasizing about the wedding, the wedding dress, life after marriage.

When my family discovered our relationship, my status-conscious parents firmly opposed it.

They never imagined that their always obedient and well-behaved son would dare to run away from home for a girl with no parents.

But they didn't understand.

She would write me an entire book of love poems.

She would point at classmates who made dirty jokes about me and curse them out.

She would save three months' wages to buy me shoes I'd mentioned in passing.

She would fight alone, in high heels and a skirt, covered in blood, when I nearly got kidnapped while drunk.

The doctor said if the knife wound on her chest had been an inch deeper, even the gods couldn't have saved her.

The young girl's love was intense, burning so hot I fell for her helplessly.

My parents were utterly disappointed and publicly announced they were disowning me, cutting off all my financial support.

Later we were busy making money, busy surviving.

When the business took off, she was busy cheating and I was busy catching her in the act.

Back and forth, the wedding we'd promised kept getting postponed.

Those two design sketches were also shelved, becoming unresolved regrets.

Now they'd become wedding clothes she was giving someone else.

I looked into her eyes. "Muriel, these are the tailcoats I designed."

She paused, then raised an eyebrow. "Name your price."

My nails dug into my palms, my voice hoarse. "They're different."

"What's so special about them?" She put her hands in her pockets, her tone impatient. "If Robinson didn't like them, they'd just be two pieces of waste paper."

I suddenly laughed.

I didn't know her memory was so poor.

She'd forgotten all the promises, wishes, and love.

All these years of bright lights and wine, money and pleasurelike a master thief.

Stealing away the Muriel whose heart and eyes were full of me.

"Please don't fight over me..." Robinson's eyes reddened.

Muriel panicked, about to comfort him, when she suddenly covered her mouth, her face turning pale.

"Ugh!"

I froze, a chill rising within me. This was a sign of pregnancyI knew it all too well.

But ever since the abortion, she'd been with Robinson the whole time.

Whose child this was couldn't be clearer.

Sure enough, Robinson's expression changed instantly. He skillfully opened a thermos and fed her water.

"Are you tired?" He gently stroked her slightly rounded belly. "Muriel, let's stop shooting, okay? You and Niland both need rest."

He carefully picked her up and quickly left without giving me a single glance.

I stood frozen in place, thunderstruck.

Nilandthat was the name of our first child.

After she miscarried that year, I was consumed with guilt, hating myself for not protecting her and the child. I couldn't sleep day or night and nearly became depressed.

Yet she casually gave this name to another man's child.

Life was truly absurd.

The staff noticed my distress and asked tentatively, "Mr. Leonardo, should we blacklist them from the hotel?"

I took a deep breath. "No need."

Let them enjoy the last glimmer of light before dawn.

When the journey ended and I returned home, the lock was intact.

Muriel was too busy accompanying her new lover around the world to even think about the "wedding home."

I laughed somewhat mockingly. As I laughed, my throat tightened.

I remembered how she once broke into my family home and knelt before my parents.

"Please let me be with Leonardo."

"Unless I die, I will never betray him."

My parents didn't believe her. I did.

I betrayed everything and did everything I could to build a home with her.

Every single thing in this house was something we'd acquired together with our own hands.

The floor mat from the secondhand market, the TV stand I built myself, the sofa blanket she crocheted stitch by stitch.

Later when we had money, we still didn't move.

I firmly believed that when she said "forever," she meant forever. Turns out she didn't.

Her devoted heart had weathered and corroded over the years.

When finally pried open, it was completely rotten inside.

Disgust suddenly surged up within me.

I immediately contacted a realtor to sell the house.

I packed up those 100 urns and mailed them away. Everything else was completely cleared out too.

After doing all this, I dragged my suitcase and left.

When I looked back one last time, I thought I would feel reluctant.

But when it came down to it, all I felt in my heart was relief.

I moved into my own hotel and began contacting lawyers to discuss the division of assets.

During this time, Muriel's messages bombarded me.

"Why did you sell the house?"

"Where can you go by yourself?"

"Stop throwing a tantrum. You have no family, no friends. You're not comfortable living outside, are you?"

"Come to the villa in the south side of town. You and Robinson can keep each other company. I'll treat you both well."

I didn't reply to a single message. After arranging everything, I went to the church.

It was quite regrettable, really.

Our first child was lost by accident.

Our second child was also abandoned by its biological mother.

Perhaps in this lifetime, I was simply not meant to be a father.

I wanted to light a new candle for our first child and set up a candleholder for our second child as well.

But when I got to the church, I discovered that Niland's candleholder was gone.

The priest told me it had been removed by Muriel.

My heart felt like it had a huge hole torn in it, with wind howling through, so cold my whole body trembled.

When I first lost Niland, I couldn't eat or sleep. I even cut my wrists.

It wasn't until the candleholder was lit that she told me this way Niland could have complete blessings.

She also said that for the child to be at peace, the father must be safe.

Only then did I put down the knife and try to keep living.

But she personally extinguished the candleholder.

I walked out of the church in a daze.

Looking up, I saw Robinson supporting Muriel, whose belly was slightly rounded.

"Muriel, thank you for bringing me and the baby here for blessings."

She gently stroked her belly, her gaze tender. "Thank me for what? You're my lover, and Niland is our child. Of course I want you both to be safe and happy for life."

Nilandshe still dared to speak that name.

I rushed forward and slapped her hard across the face.

She was first stunned, then immediately shielded Robinson behind her.

"Leonardo, what's wrong with you? I'm still carrying our child!"

"Our child? Muriel, have you no shame?" I said through gritted teeth, desperately suppressing my body's trembling.

"It's bad enough you aborted our second child, but why did you remove Niland's candleholder?"

She froze, her eyes evasive. "You... you know everything?"