Late Love With No Date Of Return

My wife has an avoidant attachment style.

So, on our anniversary, when I half-jokingly asked her if she loved me, and she simply placed some food on my plate instead of answering, I finally understood everything.

Giselles expression was as gentle as it always was.

Luke, I remember this is your favorite dish, right?

For the past five years, whenever things like this happened, I would put on a fake smile and let her get away with it. But this time, I set my chopsticks down, gathering the courage to ask the question I had kept locked in my heart for years.

"Giselle, what am I to you, really?"

It felt like a century passed before Giselle let out a long, heavy sigh.

"Luke, you are my husband, my partner for the rest of my life. I respect you. Please, don't make things difficult for me."

I wanted to press further, but she suddenly stood up, muttering with a mix of annoyance and anger.

"If I knew marriage was going to be this exhausting, I wouldn't have married you in the first place."

I sat frozen in my seat. I thought of our wedding photo, where she had seamlessly photoshopped her first love's face over mine and used it as her phone lock screen for five years. A bitter smile crept onto my face.

If that was how she felt, then let our marriage end here, in its fifth year.

I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my director, accepting the three-year overseas transfer.

Then, I stood up and began clearing the cluttered dining table. I knew that if I didn't clean it, the leftovers would sit there until they rotted, and no one else would care.

Giselle, who had already retreated to her room, suddenly walked back out. Like a headless chicken, she asked, "Luke, where did you put my blue nightgown?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Giselle didn't say anything, but she shot me a deeply disappointed look.

"Don't forget next time."

She turned back to her room to start her company's online meeting, leaving me standing there as my dishcloth slipped from my fingers onto the table.

Every single chore in this house, from sweeping and mopping to wiping the windows, doing the dishes, and cooking, was my responsibility. She merely enjoyed the results and reminded me to do better next time.

But when we first married, she had promised me otherwise.

"In the future, Ill keep the house spotless so you can focus entirely on your career! Luke, your hands are too beautiful, I will never let these gorgeous hands wash a single dish or mop a floor!"

I lifted my hands, staring at them.

The skin was rough, the knuckles swollen, and my fingerprints had been nearly eroded by harsh cleaning chemicals. Giselle had severe OCD, yet she hated having strangers in the house, so every chore fell on me.

The washing machine beeped, signaling that the spin cycle was finished and it was time to hang the clothes.

I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Luke, oh Luke, how did you let your life turn into this?

I stopped cleaning, turned around, and walked into my own bedroom.

This life, I didn't want it anymore.

By our third year of marriage, Giselle and I were already sleeping in separate beds.

Looking back, the reason was almost laughable. It was because I had discovered that on her phone wallpaper, the face of the groom in our wedding photo had been replaced with someone else's.

It was Chase, her first love, the white moonlight she could never have.

Because she couldn't control her longing, she had quietly pasted his face over mine, pretending that they were the ones who had married.

To outsiders, she was praised as a loving wife. She was successful, the youngest branch manager in her company, and every single one of her social media profiles featured sweet wedding photos with her husband.

I had once confronted her about it in a rage.

But Giselle had simply handed me a glass of water, asking with absolute seriousness, "Luke, taste this. Does it taste strange to you? It tastes off to me."

I had opened my mouth, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind, but I didn't know where to start.

Before we married, Giselle had repeatedly emphasized that she had an avoidant attachment style and that I must never corner her with questions.

I took the glass and drank it in one gulp. All the unspoken words went down with the tasteless water.

I gave up on pushing her for answers because I knew that if Giselle didn't want to answer a question, cornering her would yield nothing but silence.

I turned off the bedroom lights. My phone buzzed with a message from my director.

"Luke, you've made the right decision. As a core technical asset of our group, this transfer to Europe is the perfect opportunity for your career."

I turned off the screen and closed my eyes to sleep.

Right then, Giselle knocked on my door.

"Luke, are you asleep?"

I didn't answer.

She continued, "I was too impulsive earlier, and I want to apologize. Didn't you always say you wanted to visit the theme park? I just booked tickets for this weekend. Let's celebrate our fifth anniversary properly."

I opened the door and looked into her eyes.

"How many tickets did you book?"

"Four."

"Why four?"

Giselle looked completely puzzled by my question. "Because I'm bringing Paige and Toby with us."

The tiny spark of hope that had just risen in my chest was instantly doused, leaving me entirely cold.

"For our fifth anniversary," I said, pronouncing each word slowly, "you want to bring your younger siblings?"

"Yes. Haven't the four of us always gone out together? Why are you suddenly unhappy about it now?"

Giselle was right.

For the past five years, every single one of our couple's activities had been crowded by her siblings. Our romantic candlelit dinners were always tables for four. The beach vacations we spent months saving for were spent in family suites.

She claimed that as the eldest daughter, she had a responsibility to her family. Taking care of her siblings was her duty, just as taking care of me was.

I suddenly realized. Because she didn't love me, everything had simply become a duty.

"I don't want to go anymore," I said, my voice trembling slightly.

Giselle let out a sigh, her expression saying here we go again with your tantrums.

"Luke, what exactly do you want from me?" She used my full name, her patience clearly at its limit.

I stared at her. "Are you deaf? I said I don't want to go!"

"But why?"

"Because you have never, not once, treated the two of us as a single unit! You always have to drag a third or fourth person into our lives!"

I was hysterical, screaming like a madman, while she watched me with a cold, detached calmness.

"Is this really necessary?" Giselle's voice finally rose. "I just wanted to take my siblings out for some fun. What is so wrong with that?"

"And our fifth anniversary?"

"How is this not celebrating our anniversary? Going out together is a celebration. Does it only count if we lock ourselves in a room? Why do you have to be so..."

Giselle didn't finish her sentence, but I already knew the word.

Selfish.

I was too selfish. I always thought too much, cared too much, held onto tiny details, and demanded too many answers. I had been hearing these accusations for five years.

"Let me ask you, once we get to the park, who is going to look after those two kids?"

Giselle opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She knew the answer, which was why she couldn't speak.

"Didn't you always say you loved children?" she finally muttered.

I froze.

I never expected her to throw those words at me. It was like a needle driving straight into my deepest wound, executed with a precision that was far too deliberate to be an accident.

Giselle had been pregnant once. Our very first child.

But the pregnancy ended almost as soon as it began.

When Chase got married, Giselle had locked herself in the house and drank herself into a stupor. In her drunken state, she stumbled against the edge of a table and miscarried.

I had never told her that I knew the truth, wanting to shield her from the guilt. I took all the blame, claiming I hadn't taken proper care of her.

And now, she was using that lost child as a weapon to wound me.

I forced myself to calm down, asking her with quiet sincerity, "Giselle, the space in your heart was never meant for me, was it?"

Giselles expression flickered. It wasn't anger, but a brief, panic-stricken realization of being exposed.

The panic lasted less than a second before she masked it with her usual shield of dismissiveness.

"You're starting again," she said, turning to walk away.

I stood in the quiet hallway, a soft laugh escaping my lips.

Yes, I was starting again. But this time, everything was going to end.

I met with a lawyer the next day to draft the divorce papers. The division of assets was simple: what was hers remained hers, and what was mine remained mine. Our finances had been strictly separate throughout our marriage, which made the split remarkably clean.

At work, my director called me into his office.

"Luke, the company has booked your ticket. You fly out in three days. Are you all set on your end?"

I paused for a fraction of a second before nodding firmly. "Yes, I'm ready."

Before I left, the director stopped me. "Your family supports this move, right? I remember you and your wife always seemed very close."

I remembered when I first received the transfer offer. I hadn't wanted to go, wanting to use the opportunity to test how much Giselle cared.

"Sweetheart, the company wants to send me to Europe for three years. Will you miss me?" I had wrapped my arms around her from behind, but Giselle had peeled my fingers away, one by one.

"Let's go hiking this weekend. I heard the wild flowers on the mountain are beautiful!"

She never gave a direct answer to anything involving her feelings for me.

At first, I thought she was just shy. Then, I believed it was just her personality. Now, I understood.

In a marriage, there is no such thing as an avoidant attachment style. There is only love, or the lack of it.

"Don't worry, Director. I've discussed it with my family. It won't affect my transfer."

In a rare turn of events, Giselle came to pick me up from work that evening.

My colleagues noticed her car parked by the curb, with a beautifully decorated cake sitting visibly on the passenger seat.

"Luke, your wife is so good to you!"

"Yeah, you've been married for years and we've never heard you complain. Men as blessed as you are hard to find!"

Giselle walked toward me with a bouquet of flowers, her expression as gentle as always. She handed me the cake, her voice soft.

"I was wrong, Luke. Let's go home. This is your favorite cake."

The teasing from my colleagues grew louder. Not wanting to cause a scene, I took the cake.

Giselle looked visibly relieved when I accepted it, turning to walk back to the car.

"That's not a very sincere apology! You didn't even hold his hand!" a colleague joked behind us.

Giselles body stiffened. She turned back, reaching out to grasp my wrist.

I thought of the photo album hidden in our house, filled with pictures of her and Chase holding hands, their fingers tightly intertwined in every single shot.

I remained silent, wanting only to finish this play.

When I opened the passenger door, I found someone already sitting there. Her sister, Paige, waved at me cheerfully. "Hey, Luke!"

From the backseat, her brother Toby chimed in, "Hey, Luke!"

Both siblings were in their teens, their faces blank of any adult tact.

I climbed into the backseat, listening to them chatter endlessly about where their older sister was going to take them next.

Through the rearview mirror, my eyes met Giselles. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

"They're staying at our place for a couple of days. Mom has some things to take care of this weekend."

I didn't hold back my anger this time, nor did I force a smile to play the role of the perfect brother-in-law. I simply turned my head, staring out the window at the passing city lights.

When we arrived home, the two teenagers bolted inside.

Giselle walked over to me, asking cautiously, "Luke, are you angry again?"

I shook my head without a word. She smiled, relieved. "Great. I'm glad you're not mad."

She turned and ran to catch up with her siblings.

Someone once said that if your partner walks more than five yards ahead of you, they don't love you.

I watched Giselle, who was ten yards ahead of me, desperately trying to join her siblings' conversation even though she could barely get a word in.

It didn't matter anymore. If she didn't love me, so be any. I was leaving anyway.

Paige and Toby made themselves right at home, ordering five or six takeout boxes.

Giselle said half-seriously, "Takeout is so unhealthy. Why don't you have Luke whip up something for you guys?"

The three siblings turned their gaze to me.

But I didn't offer to cook.

Seeing my silence, Paige tried to soften the tension. "Luke always cooks, it's too much work for him."

Toby, seeing that I still didn't speak, muttered under his breath, "His cooking isn't even that good, and he takes forever anyway. Who wants to eat it?"

The living room was quiet, and his words carried clearly.

Giselle frowned, glaring at Toby before pulling me into the kitchen.

She opened the fridge as if nothing had happened. "Kids are picky eaters these days, please bear with him. There are plenty of ingredients here, just whip up a couple of simple dishes."

Her idea of "simple dishes" meant preparing a four-course dinner for four people within two hours, keeping in mind everyone's individual preferences and allergies.

She picked up an apron, her eyes curling into a smile. "Come here, let me put this on you."

The apron had a little rabbit pattern on it. She had bought it, claiming the rabbit reminded her of me.

But I remembered clearly that Chase had two slightly prominent front teeth, and his nickname in college had been Bunny. Only those closest to him were allowed to call him that.

I grabbed Giselles wrist, stopping her.

"Have you ever counted how many rabbit-themed items we have in this house?"

Giselle froze, a strained smile on her lips. "What's wrong? Do you think the apron isn't cute?"

She was avoiding the question again.

This time, I stared at her, refusing to let her slide.

"One hundred and thirty-seven."

"From aprons to tablecloths, ornaments to curtains, even our bedding sets are covered in rabbits! Giselle, do you really need Chases memory around you every single second of the day?"

A long, heavy silence stretched between us. Finally, Giselle looked down.

"Fine. You're right. This apron is a bit plain anyway. I'll throw it out and buy a new one."

She turned to walk out of the kitchen, but I grabbed her arm.

"Answer my question, Giselle!"

Giselle wrenched her arm out of my grip. "Luke! My siblings are right outside! If you don't want to cook, then don't! Stop throwing these ridiculous tantrums!"

"I am sick and tired of your endless jealousy! Do whatever you want!"

Giselle slammed the door as she stormed out.

But even in her rage, she had placed the rabbit apron neatly on the kitchen counter. She couldn't throw it away, and she never would.

My phone vibrated with a notification.

"Your flight to Paris is scheduled to depart in twelve hours."

At three in the morning, I walked out of the apartment with my packed suitcase.

The three siblings were sound asleep. The living room was cluttered with empty takeout boxes and trash, none of which had been cleared.

I walked past the mess without a glance, heading straight for the door.

Before closing it, I took one last look at the place we had shared.

I was the one who had fallen in love with Giselle at first sight, and I had pursued her relentlessly to get this marriage. So, everything that had happened was my own doing.

I had foolishly believed that the bond of marriage would slowly erase Chase's presence in her heart. But in the end, I was the one who had been washed away.

I left the signed divorce papers on the coffee table. By the time Giselle woke up, I would already be in the air, flying toward Paris.

By eight in the morning, our home security camera showed the three siblings waking up.

Paige looked around the apartment, unable to find any trace of me.

Brushing her teeth, she mumbled to Giselle, "Sis, you yelled too loud last night. What if you scared Luke away?"

Giselle replied indifferently, "If he's gone, he's gone. I never loved him that much anyway. If my parents hadn't been pressuring me so hard, I would have never married him."

Beside them, Toby laughed, exposing her lie. "You're lying, Sis! You only married him because Chase got engaged and you wanted a rebound!"

Giselles face flushed red as she defended herself. "What are you talking about? Who told you that?!"

Toby shook his head. "You did, when you were drunk."

Giselle froze. She picked up a box of tissues, which was adorned with a rabbit pattern. "Yes, he's married and has a family now, but I still can't forget him..."

Toby almost tripped over an empty takeout box on the floor.

He complained loudly, "Where is Luke anyway? Why hasn't he cleaned up the living room yet?!"

Giselle turned her gaze toward my room.

The two of them searched the apartment, finding nothing.

Paige stopped brushing her teeth. She cleared away some takeout boxes on the coffee table and picked up a document.

She gasped, her mouth still full of foam. "Sis... why is there a divorce agreement here?"