The pale moonlight spilled through the window, casting sharp shadows on his face, making his features look even more distant and cold.
He didn’t say a word. Just stood up and handed me a divorce agreement, clearly prepared ahead of time. His silence confirmed the brutal truth I’d just heard.
I stared at those thin sheets of paper. Every word on them felt like tiny insects crawling into my chest, biting away at my heart.
“This is just a draft from the lawyer. If you think the amount is too low, I can add more. Just sign it—house, car, jewelry… whatever you want,” his tone was detached, like he was offering alms rather than speaking to his wife.
So that’s what I meant to him?
Even after all these years, despite our so-called contractual arrangement ending and me standing on
