My Husband Locked Me up When I Wanted to Ask for a Divorce

Amber and Calvin had been married for three years, but Calvin's heart had never truly belonged to her—it was still irrevocably tied to his childhood sweetheart, Iris. A single phone call from Iris would leave him sleepless and rushing her to the hospital in the dead of night. At her slightest whim, he would compel Amber to eat mango cake, fully aware of her allergy. And if Iris so much as shed a tear, Calvin would abandon everything—including Amber.

It wasn't until the day Amber decided to leave that something shifted. Calvin, driving his sleek Maybach, pursued her all the way to the airport. His eyes, red with desperation, betrayed his fear of losing her. "Amber," he pleaded, voice trembling, "can we not divorce? I'm begging you."

After three tumultuous years of being married to Calvin—the crown prince of the elite Newark social circle—Amber had finally made up her mind to let go. But this decision was a fragile secret she couldn't let slip. She knew Calvin well enough to anticipate his reaction. He'd likely destroy the house in a drunken rage and buy three boxes of strawberryflavored contraceptives, implying that she cheated on him.

The piercing roar of his Maybach's engine shattered the latenight silence, reverberating like thunder through the sprawling mansion. Outside, the dim streetlights flickered erratically, their brief flashes seeping through the curtains, casting fleeting shadows that stretched across the cold, empty bedroom.

Amber stirred, her light sleep fractured. Her sharp ears immediately recognized the deep, guttural growl of the Maybach. Suppressing a sigh, she slid out of bed, her movements purposeful but weighed down with exhaustion. Grabbing the carefully prepared divorce papers from her nightstand, she draped her shoulders with a knitted shawl for warmth. Slipping her feet into soft, wellworn cotton slippers, she padded downstairs.

The sight that greeted her was all too familiar. Calvin had stumbled home drunk yet again. His tailored suit lay crumpled on the marble floor, his silk tie and polished leather shoes discarded like forgotten relics of his pristine public image. The pungent stench of alcohol assaulted her senses, mingled faintly with the bitter tang of cigarette smoke.

Amber's brows furrowed, a deep line etched between them. She hadn't stopped frowning for months now, but tonight her face seemed carved from stone. She tightened her shawl around her shoulders, taking shallow breaths to keep the nausea at bay. Calvin knew she despised alcohol and smoke, but he never cared enough to stop. Time and again, he came home like this—reeking, rambling and inconsiderate—leaving her to clean up both the physical mess and the emotional wreckage he left in his wake.

Through bleary, unfocused eyes, Calvin spotted her standing in the doorway. His lips twisted into a pained smile as he staggered toward her. "Amber... Iris is sick again. What should I do?" he slurred, his voice rough and pleading. He collapsed onto the couch and instinctively buried his head against her abdomen, his warmth seeping through the soft fabric of her nightgown.

It wasn't the first time Calvin had sought comfort in this peculiar way, as though her presence alone could ground him, soothe the chaos in his soul. Yet Amber's hands clenched tightly around the divorce agreement.

She stiffened, her expression cold as stone. Refusing to meet his bloodshot eyes, she stared past him, fixating on the mantel clock ticking steadily. She believed—hoped, even—that avoiding his gaze might numb the ache in her chest.

Iris. Always Iris.

Iris, the fragile, porcelain doll of Calvin's past, his childhood sweetheart who could do no wrong. Her battle with depression made her delicate and untouchable, a woman Calvin felt both bound to and obsessed with. She had known him for a decade longer than Amber had and a tragic car accident from their youth—one where Iris had saved his life—cemented her place as his everything. To everyone in Newark's elite circles, Iris wasn't just Calvin's Achilles' heel; she was his entire heart.

But Iris saw Calvin only as an older brother. She never reciprocated the intense, tangled feelings he harbored for her. Even their marriage—Calvin and Amber's—had to remain a carefully guarded secret, all to spare Iris any distress.

So, Calvin also had someone he loved but couldn't have. Amber didn't know if she was envious, jealous, or hateful. Looking at the drunken man before her, she let out a cold laugh and mercilessly pushed his fuzzy head away. She coaxed him into signing the divorce papers.

Calvin and Amber. Two people tied by marriage, each nursing an unrequited love. She didn't know whether to envy, pity, or hate him. As Calvin leaned against her, drunk and vulnerable, her lips curled into a bitter smile. She pushed his head away with calculated detachment.

"Calvin," she began sweetly, her voice masking the steel beneath, "I need your help. I'm starting a studio and need some startup funds. Can you sign this for me?"

Calvin blinked at her, his drunken stupor clouding his judgment. "What's this?" he mumbled, taking the document from her outstretched hands.

"It's just a business agreement," she lied smoothly. "A formality."

Amber's heart pounded painfully in her chest as she watched him scan the paper with glassy eyes. The divorce agreement was clear, listing her terms: the house in Bayview and $4 million—pocket change for a man like Calvin. The precision of her request wasn't born from greed but from survival, a calculated demand for the freedom she so desperately craved.

Calvin's lips quirked into a lazy grin as he picked up the pen. "Oh, my little moneygrubber," he teased, his voice laced with drunken fondness. "Good thing your husband has more money than he knows what to do with."

Without hesitation, he scrawled his name across the dotted line in bold, decisive strokes. Each pen stroke felt like a knife slicing through Amber's resolve, the sound of ink scratching paper echoing in her ears. Her body betrayed her, trembling faintly as relief and fear tangled inside her.

When he was done, Calvin tossed the pen aside and pulled Amber onto his lap, holding her hands captive in his own. "Just try finding someone else," he muttered mockingly, his voice laced with both arrogance and affection. "See where you'll find someone like me to bankroll your whims."

Calvin thought nothing of signing the agreement. To him, it was just another routine document. After scribbling his signature, he teasingly tapped Amber on the nose, a fleeting gesture of affection that meant nothing. He failed to notice the sadness lingering in her eyes, veiled by the cascade of her long, dark hair.

Before marrying Amber, Calvin had flitted through numerous lovers—each one more dazzling than the last. Some were the picture of innocence and sweetness; others oozed seduction and sophistication. In the elite world they inhabited, a powerful, wealthy man like Calvin was expected to maintain a roster of paramours. Fidelity was almost a quaint concept, overshadowed by the spectacle of affluence.

When those relationships inevitably ended, Calvin's solution was always the same: a luxury car or a lavish home, tokens of his indifference disguised as generosity. To him, any problem that could be solved with money wasn't a problem at all.

Amber had been Calvin's wife for three long years, during which she came to understand her place in his world. She wasn't his partner, confidant, or even friend. She was a contract, a role he could fulfill with money and public gestures. Amber had tried to console herself with this reality: "If there's no love, at least there's wealth." But even the sparkle of diamonds couldn't hide the emptiness in her heart.

Divorce. It was the only way out. She had repeated the mantra to herself so often that it began to feel true: "I don't love him anymore. I can't love him anymore." Divorce meant freedom—from waiting up alone at night, from covering her silent tears with the sheets and from living in the shadow of Iris.

Amber's love for Calvin had started years ago, on her first day as a transfer student in high school. He had been tall, aloof and devastatingly handsome, the kind of boy who made teenage hearts race. As the daughter of a wealthy family herself, Amber wasn't accustomed to rejection. But Calvin, with his cold indifference, became her first.

She shamelessly pursued him, letting her pride take a backseat to her feelings. She brought him water at basketball practice, only to see it ignored alongside offerings from other girls. Calvin only drank from the bottles Iris handed him. Amber orchestrated accidental meetings on weekends, carefully planning every detail to seem spontaneous. But Calvin saw through it all, refusing even to acknowledge her presence.

Even his best friend, Jason, had once joked about her misfortune: "Amber, you really picked the wrong guy to like."

Now, three years into their marriage, Calvin still celebrated their anniversary with mango cakes. Beautifully decorated and undoubtedly expensive, the cakes were Iris's favorite. Calvin never cared—or perhaps never bothered to remember—that Amber was allergic to mangoes. She ate them anyway, forcing a smile through every bite, unwilling to spoil his mood. The following day, she'd end up at the hospital, her body covered in rashes, all because of him.

That night, as the moonlight faded behind the rainheavy clouds, Amber lay sleepless once more. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol as Calvin snored softly beside her, his presence a cruel reminder of their reality.

With painstaking effort, she managed to drag his limp body to their bedroom. Suppressing her revulsion, she unbuttoned his shirt, wiped the sweat and liquor from his skin and pulled the covers over him. Then she quietly retreated to her side of the bed, careful not to disturb him further.

Her relief was shortlived. Less than half an hour later, the shrill ring of Calvin's phone sliced through the silence.

Amber flinched, her heart sinking when she saw the caller ID flash on the screen: [Iris.]

Before she could react, Calvin stirred, his hand darting out to snatch the phone. "Shh," he whispered sharply, pressing a finger to his lips as if Amber were a noisy intruder.

"Iris?" His voice was soft, tender in a way Amber had never heard before.

On the other end of the line, Iris's voice was equally delicate, tinged with tears and desperation. "Calvin, I have a fever again. Can you come to the hospital? I'm scared. I don't want to be alone."

Amber's chest tightened as she listened to the exchange, but Calvin didn't so much as glance at her.

"Don't worry, Iris," he said, his voice brimming with concern. "I'm on my way."

Throwing off the blanket, he bolted upright, fumbling to button his shirt and grab his jacket. Turning to Amber, he barked an order: "Get up. You're driving me to the hospital. I've been drinking."

Amber wanted to refuse, to let him feel the weight of his choices, but years of habit kept her silent. She grabbed the car keys and an umbrella before stepping into the storm.

The rain poured in sheets, soaking the ground and turning the air icy. Their mansion, perched in a remote, exclusive area, was surrounded by winding mountain roads. Amber gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white, as Calvin sat beside her, restless and anxious.

"Hurry up," he snapped, his eyes glued to his phone as if willing updates from Iris to appear. "Can't you go faster?"

Amber bit her lip, refusing to respond. She could barely see through the windshield, the wipers struggling to keep up with the relentless downpour. At one treacherous turn, the tires skidded and the Maybach spun dangerously close to the edge of the road.

Amber's heart leaped into her throat as she slammed on the brakes, fighting to regain control of the car. For a moment, time seemed to freeze—the only sounds were the rain hammering the roof and the squeal of the brakes.

Once the car steadied, Calvin erupted in frustration. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted, his face a mixture of anger and panic. "Are you trying to kill us? Can't you even drive properly?"

"You can't even handle something as simple as driving? What else are you good for besides spending money?" Calvin's words cut through the tense silence like a blade. His tone dripped with disdain, stopping just short of outright calling Amber a useless burden.

Amber's knuckles whitened as she gripped the steering wheel, her trembling hands betraying her fragile composure. Her heart pounded erratically, still caught in the terror of the near accident. The sound of rain hammering the car mingled with the echoes of Calvin's harsh criticism, creating a chaotic storm both outside and within her.

She fought back tears that threatened to spill, unwilling to let her emotions cloud her already shaken focus. The road stretched ahead, dark and treacherous, illuminated only by the thin beams of the headlights struggling against the relentless downpour.

When Amber remained silent, Calvin's interest in berating her waned. He turned his attention to his phone, scrolling idly as if she weren't even there. Amber clenched her jaw, the taste of humiliation sharp on her tongue. Here she was, risking her safety in the middle of a storm—all for a phone call from Iris.

The hospital loomed in the distance, its cold fluorescent lights piercing through the rain. As soon as the car stopped, Calvin bolted out, leaving Amber to trail behind with dripping hair and soaked shoes.

The moment Calvin entered the private room, Iris's eyes lit up like stars breaking through a cloudy sky. Her smile bloomed, radiant and sweet, but the second she caught sight of Amber behind him, her expression faltered, her lips curving downward.

Wrapped in a thick quilt, Iris looked like the perfect picture of vulnerability—her pale complexion and doelike eyes seemingly begging for comfort. She cast a hesitant glance at Amber, her voice soft and fragile. "Calvin, who is she?"

"A driver," Calvin replied dismissively, not even bothering to turn around.

Amber froze, the word slicing through her like ice. A driver. That's all she was to him now. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to accept it. "Fine," she thought bitterly. "A driver it is. It doesn't matter anymore. After today, we're done. We'll be strangers. Less than strangers." She repeated the thought like a mantra, as if it could dull the ache in her chest.

But Iris wasn't so easily satisfied. She continued to scrutinize Amber, her gaze sharp despite the frail demeanor. She refused to close her eyes, even as Calvin adjusted her blanket and spoke to her in soothing tones.

Amber shifted uncomfortably. Her presence was clearly unwanted.

"Alright, you can leave now," Calvin said over his shoulder, waving her off like an afterthought. "This has nothing to do with you."

The dismissal stung more than Amber wanted to admit. In that moment, she felt less like a person and more like an obedient dog—summoned at his convenience, discarded just as easily.

Her mind drifted back to their high school days. This wasn't her first encounter with Iris.

It had been during their first year, back when Amber's love for Calvin burned bright and naive. One afternoon, between classes, she had been leaning against the thirdfloor corridor railing, her gaze fixed on the basketball court below. She had watched Calvin countless times from this spot, hoping he'd glance her way or at least notice her.

But that day, he wasn't on the court. Amber scanned the grounds, wondering where he might be. Suddenly, Calvin appeared, jogging toward her from the direction of the snack shop, his hair damp with sweat and his steps hurried.

He stopped in front of her, catching his breath. "Hey," he said, startling her.

Amber's heart skipped a beat. Calvin was talking to her.

"Can you do me a favor?" he asked, holding out a black plastic bag.

Amber hesitated only for a moment before nodding eagerly. "Sure, anything."

"Great. Can you deliver this to the third stall on the left in the girls' restroom? It's for a girl named Iris. She needs it urgently."

The words hit her like a blow. The excitement she had felt seconds ago evaporated, replaced by a hollow ache. But Amber swallowed her feelings and took the bag.

"Thanks," Calvin said, flashing a brief smile before running off.

Amber had done as he asked, rushing to the restroom to deliver the bag to Iris, who looked up at her with teary gratitude. Even then, Iris had the same effect on people—a delicate vulnerability that made you want to protect her.

Years later, here Amber was again, running errands for Iris, this time in a storm.

By the time Amber made it home, the first rays of dawn were beginning to creep over the horizon. She was soaked to the bone, her body heavy with exhaustion. All she wanted was to climb into bed and sleep, but her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she hadn't eaten.

In the kitchen, she prepared a simple bowl of noodles, the steam rising to warm her cold, damp face. She sat at the counter, staring blankly at her phone.

The screen lit up repeatedly, but it was never a message from Calvin. No updates, no thanks, no acknowledgment of her existence.

The housekeeper, Florence, came downstairs to start her day and stopped in her tracks when she saw Amber. The sight was jarring: Amber, pale and gaunt, picking listlessly at her noodles.

Florence hesitated, then softly asked, "Mrs. Sawyer, are you alright?"

Amber looked up, offering a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep."

Before the Danton Family went bankrupt, Amber had lived a life most could only dream of, where even the smallest details of her existence—right down to every strand of her hair—were meticulously tended to. Raised as a privileged heiress, she carried herself with an air of entitlement. She walked with her head high, never sparing a glance at her feet, secure in the belief that her path would always remain smooth, free of obstacles. She was like a proud white peacock, resplendent and untouchable.

But life has a way of humbling even the mightiest. The Danton Family's fortune collapsed under the weight of debts her father had concealed. Unable to bear the shame, he took his own life, jumping from the rooftop of their family estate. The oncepristine Danton name was dragged through the mud, leaving Amber to pick up the pieces.

Her mother, griefstricken, fell gravely ill. Her younger brother, studying abroad, required financial support. The world that had once revered Amber now turned its back on her. She had alienated many in her prime, dismissing people as beneath her. When the tables turned, not one hand reached out to help.

Desperate, she swallowed her pride and approached a woman she had once scorned—a former mistress of her father. The woman, now running an exclusive private club, agreed to let Amber work there as a server.

Word of the fallen heiress working among common folk spread quickly. Some customers, driven by curiosity and cruelty, flocked to the club, eager to savor the spectacle of her downfall. Reduced to her lowest point, Amber endured evenings serving drinks and fending off the leers of men old enough to be her father, sometimes her grandfather, just to earn enough to survive.

When Calvin discovered this, his fury was volcanic. He smashed a room full of expensive liquor bottles, the shards reflecting his outrage.

"Amber," he thundered in front of everyone at the club, "I'll give you a home. You can't lower yourself to this. You're better than this. The Amber I know has a spine and doesn't bow to anyone."

And he did give her a home. But Calvin also took her dignity, piece by piece.

When Harvey, Calvin's grandfather, mocked Amber as unworthy of the Sawyer name, Calvin didn't defend her. Instead, he smirked and assured Harvey he'd grow tired of Amber within three years and move on.

A month ago, Amber had confronted Calvin about completing a list of "100 Couple's MustDo Activities" with Iris. His response wasn't what a husband should offer—it was indifference. Calvin admired Amber for her tenacity, her spirit. Yet, it was he who crushed it beneath the weight of his disregard.

That night, Calvin stayed by Iris's side at the hospital. The following morning, instead of returning home, he went straight to his office, diving into work and alcohol. He had completely forgotten about the divorce agreement he'd signed the night before.

Friday marked their third wedding anniversary. Calvin left the office late, but with a rare flicker of consideration, he purchased a mango cake for Amber. He remembered how she always valued these occasions, making them feel special with her own quiet efforts. She had even texted him earlier in the day, reminding him to come home early.

As Calvin drove, the image of Amber's gentle texts lingered in his mind.

[Are you tired from work? Should I have Florence bring you some food? Will you be home early tonight?]

He had ignored every message, as he always did. Yet, scrolling through the unread green bubbles, a strange pang of guilt surfaced. Amber's patience, her willingness to stay even when he neglected her, should have been comforting. Instead, it unsettled him.

But before he could dwell on it further, Iris's call came through. In an instant, Amber's texts were forgotten, replaced by Iris's familiar voice.

He arrived at the hospital with the cake in hand, only to find an unexpected scene: his stepmother, Sonya, standing in Iris's room with Amber by her side.

The moment Calvin entered, his face darkened. He didn't wait for explanations. His eyes narrowed as he barked, "Who told you to bring her here to see Iris?"

Before Amber could respond, Calvin's temper erupted. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist tightly as he dragged her out into the hallway.

With a forceful shove, he slammed her against the cold tiled wall. The impact sent a jolt of pain up Amber's spine.

"I didn't... Ah!" she gasped, her voice trembling as she winced, instinctively trying to free her wrist from his iron grip.

Her eyes watered from the pain. She looked up at Calvin, who stood looming over her, his expression twisted with rage.

Earlier that day, Amber had wanted to make their anniversary meaningful, even if it was their last. She had spent hours with Florence in the kitchen, learning to cook a simple meal. She had carefully chosen the dishes Calvin liked, hoping to create a semblance of normalcy before their inevitable separation.

But just as she was rinsing vegetables, Sonya had arrived unannounced, her imperious demeanor filling the mansion.

"Don't focus so much on work that you neglect Calvin," Sonya chastised, her tone dripping with faux concern. "And what's this about three years of marriage without even getting pregnant? I know a good doctor; maybe you should get a consultation."

The words stung, each one a needle pricking Amber's already frazzled nerves. She bit back a retort, unwilling to give Sonya the satisfaction of seeing her react.

Sonya, however, wasn't done. She demanded tea, then steak for dinner, her entitlement as suffocating as the air in the kitchen. Amber, irritated and distracted, slipped while chopping vegetables, nicking her finger. Blood welled instantly, a vivid contrast against the cutting board.

Feigning concern, Sonya quickly offered to drive Amber to the hospital. But there was no genuine sympathy behind her suggestion.

As if fate conspired against her, they ran into Iris in the hospital hallway.

"Sonya! You came to see me? That's so sweet of you!" Iris exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she clutched Sonya's arm. Without giving Amber or Sonya a chance to explain, Iris cheerfully dragged them into her hospital room.

Amber's head throbbed. She knew all too well the precarious line Calvin walked between his family and Iris. He despised Sonya and Felix, his illegitimate brother and made it clear they were not to have any interaction with Iris. Calvin's resentment toward them ran deep, stemming from complicated family dynamics.

Amber hesitated for only a moment before following them into the room, her unbandaged finger forgotten. She couldn't risk leaving Sonya alone with Iris, knowing full well how volatile the situation could become.

Inside, Iris was all smiles, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering beneath the surface. "Calvin, you brought mango cake for me again?" she squealed, her face lighting up as she noticed the box in Calvin's hand. "How did you know I've been craving this so much lately? It's like we're connected!"

Amber froze as Iris bounced over to Calvin, taking the cake from him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Driver lady, will you be staying to eat cake with me?" Iris asked, her tone light and casual, completely oblivious to the significance of her words.

Though she couldn't figure out when the Sawyers had hired a female driver, Iris had seen Amber twice now, always accompanying family members. This woman had to be a driver, there was no doubt about it.

Amber's heart sank. The fact that Calvin had introduced her to Iris as his driver the other day only deepened her pain.

"Driver lady, do you like mango cake?" Iris asked with a curious smile.

Amber felt her throat tighten. Even Iris, who barely knew her, had the decency to ask her preference. Yet the man she had spent three years married to had never bothered to notice she couldn't eat mangoes.

"No," Amber said softly, meeting Iris's innocent gaze. "I'm allergic to mangoes."

The room seemed to shift. Sonya's gaze sharpened, her calculating mind quickly piecing together the power dynamics at play. How was it that after three years of marriage, Amber's status in the Sawyer Family remained beneath that of an outsider? To Sonya, Amber was no longer even worth the pretense of respect.

Calvin, however, turned to Amber with an incredulous expression. "Since when are you allergic to mangoes?" he asked, his tone accusing.

Amber blinked at him, caught off guard by the disbelief in his voice. The words she longed to say burned on the tip of her tongue: "Since forever. But when have you ever cared enough to notice?"

"I've already cut it," Iris said hesitantly, holding up a plate of cake adorned with golden slices of mango. She looked genuinely remorseful, though unsure why.

"It's just a piece of cake," Calvin snapped, his frustration bubbling over. "Stop making a big deal out of nothing—it won't kill you."

Before Amber could respond, he picked up the plate and thrust it into her hands. The motion was forceful, almost dismissive, as though her allergy was a trivial inconvenience.

To Calvin, it was simple: Amber was trying to embarrass him. She had eaten the mango cakes he brought home for their anniversaries before—why make a fuss now?

Was it because Iris had cut this cake instead of him? Was Amber so petty, so jealous, that she would fabricate an excuse just to disrupt the moment?

The thought hardened Calvin's resolve. He didn't see the hurt flickering in Amber's eyes, nor did he notice the way her hands trembled as she held the plate.

"Miss Robert, I appreciate your kindness, but I can't eat the cake," Amber said firmly, refusing to take the plate Calvin was pressing into her hands.

Her refusal seemed to strike a nerve. Calvin's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. Without a word, he grabbed her wrist, forcefully placing the plate back into her hand. His grip was unrelenting, leaving her no choice but to hold it.

The sudden pressure on her hand caused the halfhealed wound from earlier to reopen. Fresh blood seeped from the cut, dripping onto the pristine white hospital floor, stark against its sterile backdrop.

"Blood!" Iris exclaimed, her voice tinged with alarm. "Driver lady, your hand is bleeding!"

Amber looked up at Calvin, her gaze pleading, her lips trembling as if begging for him to show mercy. But his cold, unyielding expression offered none. The man she had loved for a decade stood before her, oblivious to her pain, both physical and emotional.

Amber's heart twisted painfully in her chest. She didn't want to eat the cake, not because of the taste, but because she knew the agony that would follow. Mangoes weren't just a mild irritant for her; they were a torment. An allergic reaction would leave her body covered in angry red welts, the itch unbearable, often driving her to scratch herself until her skin broke and bled. She didn't want their last wedding anniversary to end in such humiliation.

Yet, Calvin's grip only tightened, his eyes daring her to disobey. He left her no escape.

Her breath hitched and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She refused to cry in front of him, not again. Amber steadied her trembling hand, picked up the fork and speared a piece of mango coated in cream.

She forced the fruit into her mouth, chewing slowly, her stomach rebelling with every movement. The sweetness of the cream mixed with the sharp acidity of the mango, turning the bite into an unbearable bitterness. She swallowed, the action painful, as though each piece dragged down her pride along with it.

"Is this enough now?" she asked silently, her heart screaming the words Calvin would never hear: "Is this what it takes for you to finally let me go?"

Calvin said nothing, watching as she continued to eat piece after piece. His silence was heavier than his words ever could be.

Amber's hand trembled so violently that the fork clattered against the plate. Her face was pale, her body visibly shaking, but she didn't stop. She didn't dare.

Finally, the grotesque scene jolted Calvin back to his senses. He stepped back, releasing her wrist abruptly as if scalded. Amber cradled her hand against her chest, tears pooling in her eyes but refusing to spill. The blood dripping from her wound was stark against the yellow of the mangoes.

"Why would you force her like that?" Iris's voice cut through the heavy silence, filled with genuine concern.

Amber didn't stay to hear Calvin's reply. She bent down to wipe the blood from the floor, ignoring the sharp sting in her hand. Straightening up, she clutched the cake tightly in one hand and turned to leave, her movements robotic, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I still need to get my wound treated, so I won't disturb everyone anymore."

Her words reached Calvin, soft and trembling, laced with the kind of pain that made even the air seem heavier. For a brief moment, Calvin frowned, unsure of what exactly she had to feel so aggrieved about. Was this another act, a show to earn his sympathy?

All this over a piece of cake? he thought.

Amber didn't wait for further humiliation. On her way out, she dumped the uneaten cake into a trash bin. The act felt like a small victory, though it did little to ease the sting of her humiliation.

Back at home, the mansion was silent. Florence greeted her hesitantly, sensing the storm brewing in Amber's expression. Amber walked past her without a word, heading straight to the kitchen.

The vegetables she had painstakingly prepped for their anniversary dinner were still waiting on the counter. With methodical precision, she began packing everything back into their containers, her movements eerily calm.

"Mrs. Amber, should I finish preparing dinner?" Florence asked tentatively.

Amber didn't answer right away. She stared at the ingredients, her fingers brushing the cool surface of the cutting board. Finally, she shook her head.

"No, Florence. There's no need."

Florence nodded, sensing it was best not to press.

Upstairs, Amber opened her wardrobe and pulled out three large cardboard boxes. She placed them on the bed, her mind clear for the first time in weeks. She wasn't just packing her belongings—she was erasing every trace of herself from this house.

One by one, memories were pulled from their hiding places.

The beautifully bound notebooks filled with unsent love letters to Calvin—trashed. Pages upon pages of words written in hope, in yearning, in heartbreak.

The adhesive bandages Calvin had grabbed for her during their college military training—meticulously preserved for years but never truly used—trashed.

The expensive wristwatch she had spent months saving up for, working parttime jobs to buy him a meaningful gift for his 20th birthday, only to have him dismiss it because Iris had already given him something better—trashed.

Each item tossed into the box felt like ripping a piece of herself away, but Amber didn't stop. By the time she was finished, the room looked emptier, cleaner, as though her presence had already begun to fade.

Amber pulled open the bottom drawer of her nightstand, retrieving a worn leather folder. Inside were neatly arranged documents: her finalized contract with a company in Hong Kong, a work visa and her oneway plane ticket.

She was finally letting him go.

In the days that followed, Amber hastened the process of packing her belongings. The mansion's trash bins filled quickly with old clothes, discarded trinkets and unused items. Every corner of the house bore the evidence of her quiet departure.

One evening, after a long day of work, Calvin returned home only to trip over a stack of neatly packed cardboard boxes near the door. Curious, he opened one, pulling out a few of Amber's personal items: crocheted carrots, potted succulents and Pikachu figurines.

"What's all this?" he asked, his voice casual but laced with an underlying tension.

Amber froze, her hand still poised midmotion as she set the table. The briefest pause followed before she quickly came up with an explanation.

"I'm getting the studio ready for its opening. I thought some of my stuff would make it feel more like home," she said, trying to sound casual.

"Your stuff? How's that going to feel like home?" Calvin mused, crouching down to inspect one of the succulents. An involuntary smile tugged at his lips, though he was likely unaware of it.

Amber, eager to divert his attention, responded quickly, "Let's eat first. Florence made your favorite, sweetandsour ribs."

Calvin nodded, his attention momentarily diverted by the change in topic. He didn't press the matter further.

"Are you free tomorrow?" Amber asked, her voice calm and steady. "I was thinking we could visit our old high school. Together."

It was a simple request, but to Amber, it was important. She believed in endings with grace, that even the close of a chapter deserved its proper closure. Their relationship had begun in high school and it seemed fitting that it should end there, too.

Calvin didn't hesitate. "Sure, I don't mind."

The next morning, Amber woke to find the pillow beside her cold. Her routine felt oddly empty, as though something vital had slipped away. After washing up, she ate the wontons Florence had made for her and wrapped herself in a scarf.

She grabbed her canvas bag, dialing Calvin's number repeatedly, but his phone wouldn't connect. Frustration crept in as she tried again.

"Where are you? We agreed on this," she said, her voice trembling with quiet disappointment. She didn't finish the sentence, the hurt too raw to put into words.

"Sorry, Amber," Calvin's voice came through, distant and detached. "I promised Iris I'd go fishing with her today. She suddenly took a liking to fishing, of all things. I'll bring back some fish and make soup for you later."

In the background, Amber could hear Iris's cheerful voice, "Calvin, help me! I caught a big fish! You're going to love it today!"

Calvin's response was brief, almost dismissive. "Go to the high school by yourself. I can't make it."

Before Amber could protest, he hung up. She stood in the cold wind outside their old high school, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, her chest tightening. She wanted to scream, to demand that he see her, but instead, she swallowed her bitterness. She wouldn't ask for his attention anymore. Not after everything.

"It's fine," she whispered to herself. "I'm leaving soon anyway. I don't need your fish."

Her tears fell, but Amber wiped them away quickly. She had no more time for this, no more time for waiting. She pulled her suitcase behind her and walked towards the school gates.

At the entrance, she stopped a security guard. "Hello, sir. I graduated here and I'll be leaving Newark soon. Can I go in for one last look?"

The guard shook his head. "Sorry, miss. We don't allow outsiders on campus."

"Is there any way you could make an exception?" Amber asked, standing on tiptoe to peer through the small window in the gate.

The guard turned away without a word, leaving Amber with no choice but to leave.

Her shoulders sagged as she turned away from the gates. Another ending left incomplete. Another dream left unfulfilled. From any angle, their relationship had been doomed from the start. The beginning had been perfect, but that was all.

With a resigned sigh, she made her way to their old university. The security there was more lenient. She left her suitcase at the office and walked onto the campus, feeling the weight of memories heavy around her.

Amber wandered to the same burger stand where she used to go with Calvin during their university days. Back then, when she was infatuated with him, she had dreamed of sharing even something as simple as a burger with him. She had packed a meal just for him, but Calvin never cared for it. The meal she'd lovingly prepared ended up being fed to the school's stray cats.

As the fragrant hamburger was placed before Amber, an overwhelming surge of emotions hit her all at once, like a sudden tide pulling her under. The emotions she had kept buried for so long—her hurt, her resentment, her unspoken grief—found their escape in that moment. They rushed out in an uncontrolled flood, flooding her heart and mind.

She gasped for air as if she were drowning, her chest tight and her breath coming in shallow, frantic bursts. The taste of bitterness spread in her mouth, making it impossible to swallow and her stomach twisted in discomfort. Every part of her felt weighted, like a heavy stone lodged in her chest.

It took several long moments for her to regain some semblance of composure. She wiped at her eyes, steadying herself before she reached for the burger again, but this time, it tasted empty. The flavor of the meal was lost beneath the bitterness gnawing at her heart. As she ate, her tears fell unbidden, each drop carrying years of unvoiced sorrow.

Once she finished, Amber bought a bag of sausages and made her way to the lawn to feed the campus cats. It was one of those simple, quiet routines she had once enjoyed—something that had always brought her peace, even when everything around her felt fractured.

The campus cats were wellfed and plump, thanks to the kindhearted students who had taken it upon themselves to care for them. Beneath the girls' dormitory, a special winter shelter had even been set up, stocked with freezedried food and canned meals purchased by the students. The warmth of the campus community was a stark contrast to the cold void Amber felt inside.

The campus was mostly empty—students scattered for the weekend. The teaching buildings were silent, the library still. A blanket of fallen leaves from the five French plane trees covered the ground beneath the dormitory, the autumn air crisp and cool.

Amber walked along the familiar paths she had taken countless times during her university years, her heart heavy with the realization that this would be her last visit. The heat of summer had faded with the arrival of fall and with it, the memories of their youth. She had no desire to cling to what was past—there was nothing left to hold onto.

By the time noon arrived, Calvin had finally remembered Amber. As he drove home, he eagerly pulled out his phone to share his success. He'd caught three fish that day and he couldn't wait to tell her.

Iris had proven to be his lucky charm. Every time he fished alone, he came back emptyhanded, but with Iris by his side, he had caught three fish in one trip. He felt an unexplainable sense of triumph, eager to share it with Amber.

He dialed her number. The phone rang three times before being disconnected. The second call went unanswered as well. A third call went straight to voicemail.

An unfamiliar wave of panic crept into Calvin's chest, tightening around his heart. It was a feeling he hadn't had in a long time—not since the day his mother passed away. Calvin was used to being in control, to having everything within his reach. But now, that control seemed to slip from his grasp and he could not shake the growing unease.

Ignoring Iris's voice from the backseat, he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, speeding home. When he arrived, the house was eerily quiet. The television was off and something felt off, though he couldn't quite place it at first.

Amber.

His stomach dropped and he rushed into the kitchen, his voice rising with frustration. "Amber, why didn't you answer my calls?"

But there was no answer. Only Florence, who was cleaning the kitchen, looked up in surprise.

"Sir, Madam has already left," Florence said, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Left?" Calvin's voice rose in disbelief. "What do you mean, left? Where could she possibly go? This is her home. Where would she go?"

Florence hesitated before handing him two items— a divorce agreement and a farewell letter Amber had instructed her to give him.