Bound to You, Broken by You

It wasn’t until now that I finally understood that back then, I was truly, foolishly naive. My throat felt dry and raw, as if lined with blades. Every word scraped painfully as I forced them out. In a hoarse voice, I answered her, “After the divorce is done, I’ll go with you.” I spent the night at the hotel where my mother was staying. The next day, I changed into the new clothes she had bought for me and went back to the house I had lived in for six years. When I came home, my son, Merrick, who was playing with his toys in the living room, looked up at me. Surprise and impatience were flickering in his eyes. He muttered under his breath, “Didn’t they say you’d be inside the jail for five days? How come you’re back after only three?” Just then, Selene came down the stairs. When she saw me, a flash of surprise crossed her face as if she hadn’t expected me to be released so soon. But she quickly composed herself and said calmly, “You’re back. Go wash up and get some rest. Don’t make any more trouble.” I shook my head. “No need. Let’s go to the City Hall now and file for divorce.” At those words, Merrick’s expression changed instantly. He rushed to hide behind Selene and shouted at me, “If you’re getting divorced and leaving, don’t even think about taking me with you! I’m not going anywhere with you!” Looking at the anger and rejection on his face, I silently tugged at the corner of my lips — a smile that never quite formed. Yesterday, when Selene left, she forgot to take our son’s essay with her. I read that essay over and over again. I still remembered clearly what he wrote. “My dad really is like a crazy person. My mom works so hard, but he’s always fighting with her. At home, he smashes things and yells at her. If I could, I really wish that crazy man wasn’t my dad.” The first time Selene mentioned divorce was when I discovered she was cheating. I calmly took photos of the chat logs and hotel records I found on her phone. When she came home, I showed her the evidence right in front of her, one photo after another. My fists were clenched so tightly they trembled and I forced all my anger deep inside, waiting for her to repent, to fall to her knees and apologize. In that waiting, I had imagined every possible way she might cry and beg for forgiveness. But she didn’t. She only looked at me, calm and indifferent, with not even the faintest trace of guilt in her eyes. Instead, she looked at me with the kind of calm arrogance that comes after being exposed and said, “Warren, either delete those photos and pretend nothing happened, or we get a divorce.” Before that moment, I had foolishly believed that as long as she apologized, I could try to forgive her just this once. Because when a family broke apart, it was the child who suffered the most. I didn’t want my son to walk the same painful path I did, to face the cruelty of choosing between his father or his mother at only five years old. But… she never apologized. Her brazen attitude made me furious. In my rage, I grabbed everything nearby and threw it at her again and again. But when I heard the housekeeper and the child talking, I forced myself to hold back from breaking down. I didn’t want the child to see his parents in that humiliating scene. Still, my self-control failed. Merrick saw me throwing things like a madman at his mother, but he hadn’t heard what Selene had said earlier. Now I looked at the child who treated me like a poisonous scorpion. Once again, he drove a dagger into me—a weapon I had raised myself. “Don’t worry, I don’t want you. After the divorce, I’ll leave,” I said, very calm and expressionless. Merrick half-believed me and looked up at Selene.

When Selene met his gaze, she said calmly, “In that case, we'll file for divorce tomorrow. I’ll have someone draft a severance agreement now. Once you sign it, the child will finally feel at ease.” When I heard her words, the doubt in my eyes disappeared, replaced by a glimmer of hope and expectation. I pressed my lips together and answered softly, “Alright.” Selene’s lawyer was efficient. In just two hours, the severance agreement was delivered to me. Without hesitation, I signed my name. And at that very moment, I clearly heard a soft, relieved sigh inside me. Merrick happily grabbed the agreement and said with a smile, “Finally, I don’t have a crazy dad anymore! No one at school can make fun of me now.” Facing his words, I stood there stunned. Beside him, a hint of mockery flickered in Selene’s eyes. “When you were taken away from home, someone took photos and posted them online,” she said coldly. “Because of you, he has had to endure a lot of judgment at school.” Her tone carried open blame without an attempt to hide it. But she seemed to forget that everything started because of her. I didn’t argue back anymore. I went along with her words, letting her push all the blame onto me, just as she wished. But when I saw the contempt in her eyes, it reminded me of the second time she asked for a divorce. Back then, I couldn’t accept it. Like a madman, I ran to her company and in front of all her employees, I shouted myself hoarse, accusing her and her assistant, Cyrus. She stood among the crowd, completely unaffected, watching me coldly like I was some kind of clown putting on a show. And I had forgotten those employees were all paid by her. They would never judge their boss’s private life so casually and certainly wouldn’t risk their jobs for someone unrelated to them. Everyone just watched, eyes full of curiosity and ridicule, as if I were nothing more than a spectacle, leaving me nowhere to hide. Instinctively, I wanted to run. But then I heard voices rising from the crowd. “He’s good-looking but he’s nowhere near as capable or refined as Cyrus. If I were the boss, I wouldn’t pick that pretty boy either.” “Yeah, people cheat all the time, especially the rich ones. He’s such an idiot. Doesn't he know how to just turn a blind eye?” “If I were him, I wouldn’t make a scene. I’d just take the money and live comfortably as a kept man. Why go crazy and make yourself a joke?” I stood there, surrounded by them all, their whispers cutting deeper than any blade. Hearing those whispers around me, I suddenly remembered the year Selene started her business. Back then, I had helped her chase her dream of becoming a strong, independent woman again and again, I helped her secure contracts with major clients. I drank endlessly at dinners to win deals for her, until my stomach bled and I ended up in the hospital with an ulcer. I still remember her sitting by my bedside, gripping my hand tightly, tears streaming down her face as she choked out, “Warren, I’ll never let you down in this life. I’ll give you a home and we’ll grow old together.” I opened my mouth, wanting to tell everyone that it was she who had promised me a future, she who had said we’d grow old side by side. But before I could speak, Cyrus came running over, crying. He dropped to his knees in front of me with a thud, banging his head against the floor as he pleaded through tears. “Mr. Guile, I never meant to come between you and Ms. Tarn. If you don’t like me, I’ll resign right now and never see her again. But please, I’m begging you, don’t make a scene here anymore. If you keep this up, how will Ms. Tarn ever face her employees again?” He looked like a devoted, selfless man—someone who only cared about Selene’s reputation. And with just one sentence, he made me out to be an unreasonable madman. Selene watched him kneeling there, crying and begging on her behalf. She walked over, heartbroken and helped him to his feet. Then she turned to me and shouted in anger, “Enough! Warren, we’re getting a divorce! I can’t spend another day living like this! I’ve had enough of this suffocating life!” In Merrick’s essay, he even wrote about that day. That’s when I learned he had skipped his extracurricular class and gone to her company to play with Cyrus. And in his essay, he wrote: “My dad isn’t just crazy. He makes me feel so embarrassed. I don’t understand why I have a dad like him. I wish Cyrus were my dad instead.” So, I agreed to the divorce and I signed the severance agreement. To Selena and Merrick, it was a day worth celebrating. They could hardly wait to take the signed agreement and go out together. While I was packing my things, Selene’s social media was updated. In the photo, she, Merrick and Cyrus were all wearing matching family outfits.

On her face, someone who rarely showed emotion, was a bright, radiant smile. Even the smile on Merrick’s face seemed blindingly bright. And Cyrus, standing between them, looked every bit the gentle, elegant father figure that family photos were supposed to have. I only gave it a brief glance. Then I noticed a message from my mother. She wrote: [I’ve prepared your passport. Once the divorce is registered tomorrow, come with me. You can come back later to pick up the certificate.] I didn’t refuse, just replied quietly, [Okay.] In the past, I always used to tell myself that I wanted to be a good father who thought about his child, to let him live a happy life, to let him know he was loved, so I never told Merrick the truth. For her job, Selene took a labor-inducing shot before her due date. It made the baby come early and he was born with high jaundice. He had to stay in the newborn emergency room for a whole month. After giving birth, Selene went straight back to work. So I was the one staying in the hospital taking care of him. When I got a high fever and couldn’t take care of the baby, I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. I thought she was just busy with work, so I forced myself to bear all the pain alone. Until the day I found out she was cheating, only then did I realize, she was in another man’s bed enjoying comfort when I was in the hospital day and night caring for our baby. When the baby had a fever in the middle of the night and I suddenly got appendicitis and was in a panic, she kept sleeping with another man, using “business trips” as her excuse. As for my pain, she acted like she couldn’t see it. Whenever she felt a little guilty, she would keep buying me gifts to make up for it. When she saw me smile sincerely at those gifts, she secretly thought to herself, “Warren is so easy to please.” She told me those words herself. She treated my touched reaction to her gifts like a joke to laugh about. She completely forgot that in our hardest years, when we lived in a dark, cramped basement, she used to cry in pain seeing me— tired and worn out, struggling to make a living for us— while watching other women’s boyfriends looking fresh and full of life. Back then, she used to hold my hand and say, “Warren, how lucky I am to have met you in this life. If I ever lose you, how will I go on living?” She said she wanted to give me the best life. Every time she got her paycheck, she would spend half of it buying me clothes, shoes and all the food I loved to eat. Then she would smile and tell me, “Warren, you deserve better. Just wait a little longer for me. I’ll make sure you have everything others have too.” So I waited and waited. Day after day, I dreamed about the beautiful future the three of us would share as a family. But reality kept stabbing at my heart that was already full of scars and cracks. I packed my luggage, tore up every photo of me that existed in the house and called a cleaner to erase every trace of my life there. I was ready to leave right after the divorce registration tomorrow. That night, neither Selene nor Merrick came home. I didn’t call or text to ask them back. The next morning, I arrived at the courthouse as planned. Selene came about half an hour late. When she got out of the car and saw me, wearing the same black suit I wore at our wedding, her eyes flickered with a hint of admiration, but it vanished quickly. A faint, mocking smile curved her lips as she said, “Why are you wearing your wedding suit here? Don’t tell me you regret agreeing to the divorce?” I looked at her and shook my head. Then I said calmly, “Wearing something new means celebration. Today’s a happy day, isn’t it?” The smile on Selene’s lips quickly faded. When she saw the calm in my eyes, steady as still water, a strange flicker of panic crossed her heart. She asked again, “Are you really sure about this? No regrets at all? Warren, I’m not someone who looks back. Once we register the divorce today, we’ll truly be strangers from now on.” I took out my phone and deleted all her contact information right in front of her. Then I turned toward the courthouse. “Come on, it’s our turn.” After signing the divorce papers and walking out, I didn’t look back and headed straight for the car where my mother was waiting by the road. Selene stood there, watching my figure fade into the distance. For the first time, she felt an emptiness deep in her chest as if something had quietly been taken away. She reached out, trying to grab hold of me, but her hand only caught the passing wind.