Chapter 6

I looked down at my arm. A deep cut had appeared, with bright red blood slowly trickling from the wound. Behind me, Finnian stood with a twisted expression, brandishing a knife.

“You’re a bad person, trying to kick us out! Just die!”

He lunged at me again with the knife. I pushed him down. Dorian rushed over, helping Finnian up from the floor, and shouted at me angrily:

“Evangeline, are you out of your mind? How could you lay a hand on a child? Finnian is just a kid; he doesn’t know any better!”

Ignoring the pain from my wound, I forced them out of the house. Dorian and Aurelia didn’t argue; they hurried Finnian to the hospital. Later, I made my way to the hospital myself. The doctor, noticing the dried blood around the wound, admonished me for not seeking treatment sooner. As I stepped out of the hospital, I ran into Dorian and Aurelia, who was carrying Finnian.

Dorian’s eyes lingered on my bandaged arm with a flicker of concern, as he seemed about to speak. Aurelia interrupted:

“Dorian, you need to have a proper talk with Evangeline. I’ll come by tomorrow to pack our things and move out. I can take care of Finnian alone. We shouldn’t disrupt your life any longer.”

With that, she turned to leave. Finnian, who had been asleep, suddenly opened his eyes and cried for his father. Dorian looked torn but then turned to me apologetically and said: “Evangeline, you should go home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“I don’t agree with the idea of a divorce. There’s no need for such pretense now.”

With that, he took Finnian from Aurelia’s arms and began soothing him softly. As they left, Aurelia glanced back at me, her eyes full of defiance. I returned home, looking around at the house filled with memories. A surge of long–suppressed bitterness overwhelmed me.

I had bought this home during my second year abroad. Every item in the house was chosen by me. I thought that since this would be the home I’d live in for the rest of my life, it should be decorated to my taste. On the first day we moved in, Dorian held me excitedly. He said we’d finally have a place of our own and that we’d live here forever. I never imagined we’d end up going our separate ways.

Walking past the study, I noticed the dusty jigsaw puzzle in the corner. The picture was a photo of Dorian and me. We had planned to finish it and hang it in the most prominent place in the living room. But it was only half–finished. Finnian had simply said he didn’t like it. And Dorian stopped working on it. I took the puzzle outside to the yard. I set it on fire, watching it turn to ashes. My love for Dorian burned away along with that puzzle.

I spent a day packing my belongings into a suitcase. The next day, while I was cleaning, Dorian opened the door. Seeing the half–empty living room, he asked in a low voice:

“Why is so much missing from the house?”

I didn’t respond, instead directly asking when he planned to pack his things. Dorian’s face darkened at my question.

“Evangeline, you saw Finnian’s situation yesterday. I had no choice. Can’t you understand? I can’t hurt a child.”

Without hesitation, I nodded and said: “I understand.”

Dorian’s face lit up with a hopeful smile. I continued:

“That’s why divorce is the best choice.”

“We get divorced, Aurelia gets her residency, and Finnian won’t lose his father. After all, a child needs a dad.”

Dorian insisted: “I just wanted a pretend divorce. Why can’t you…”

“But I’ve truly decided to divorce you.” I interrupted him without a second thought. “Take your time packing your things.”

As he tried to protest, I suddenly said: “Dorian, there’s surveillance in the living room. If you don’t want him to get into trouble, you’d better sign.”

Dorian was shocked that I’d use Finnian to pressure him. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak. Finally, he found an excuse and hurriedly left. Watching him retreat, I felt no regret. If anything, I was tired of his relentless persistence.