Chapter 3：Prologue (2/2)

Putting some pressure on it, I rub every once in a while to relieve some of this dull ache.

There's an emotion that's been brewing inside me for some time now.

Like strong feelings of emptiness—weaved into an intricate pattern—one where I no longer knew where the thread even began or if it's ever going to reach an end.

Even if I feel like I'm being smothered right now, I don't feel like crying.

I've already cried enough.

Despite the current lack of waterworks, my heart continues to do its job as thoroughly as possible, as it does its best to wear me down completely.

...

It's like finding yourself in the middle of an unfamiliar ocean.

With no other signs of life around, you're not quite sure if you're floating; or that you're gradually sinking deeper into the depths of a soundless, tranquil void.

And the only thing you can do is helplessly look up at the streams of wavering sunlight as it dances freely under the water's surface.

Just like that, time, life, and even the world all continue to march on with or without you.

...

With every step I take towards the exit, I feel lonelier somehow. Empty. Hollow.

A year or two ago, I never would've expected that something like this would ever happen to me.

I've made no contingency plans. Well, who the heck marries out of love while planning to divorce sometime later? Especially when you expect the person to be there for you 'til death do us part'?

I'm at a crossroads in life. I'm lost, and I've no idea what to do next. Where should I go from here? What should I do from now on? Questions like these plagued my mind.

Didn't they say that when one door closes, another one opens?

I don't believe in only getting single opportunities each time. So how do you choose? If I see another door, should I open it myself, or should I wait for a door that's already slightly ajar? Like, an opportunity that's presenting itself to me?

Life is hard, and there is no proper manual. I'm tired of having no idea what to do.

I bury my face in my hands.

Rubbing up and down the entire length of it, I continue to walk in frustration; I sigh.

The man in front of me turns on his heel and sidles up to me.

”Rysia? Are you okay? You've been sighing a lot.” His face, full of concern, suggests something to me, ”How about you just hang on for a little while longer 'til we get home, and I'll fix you something in a jif-”

He cuts himself short, realizing that he's doing this out of habit, yet again.

Raising one of his arms, my ex-husband places a hand at the back of his neatly groomed neck.

Caressing the length of it, he laughs derisively at himself, ”Hah... There I go doing that for the millionth time. It's still taking some time for it to sink in for me, I guess. You know, our divorce.”

He continues to chuckle lightly as he awkwardly rubs the base of his head. It's starting to mess up his neatly pressed collar.

I smile bitterly.

”Mm, don't worry about it. I still slip up from time to time, too.” My face scrunches up as my mouth stretches out into a thin line.

We stand there for a moment as we look intently into each other's eyes.

A searing pain momentarily cuts through my heart as the gravity of this situation hits me.

We have reached the end of our marriage. From today onwards, this man is no longer my life partner.

After staring at each other for some time, we break eye contact, and we both look down.

”Well, I guess this is it.” I stop there, purposefully disallowing myself from saying more. My eyes start to sting and burn. I suddenly jump into his arms as I give him one last hug.

Our marriage may have ended, but we've decided that I'll continue to be his manager.

We'll be working together as we do make a great team. Unlike our married life, everything is smooth sailing in this department.

After we've had enough of holding each other one last time, we go our separate ways.