10
The divorce papers arrived three days later.
John remained obstinate.
He refused to divorce, complaining to my
parents, saying I wanted a divorce over a
trivial matter.
“Sarah, you promised to be with me forever.”
“Even if I made a mistake, don’t I deserve
forgiveness?”
He held my hand tightly.
Such intimacy was rare, without gloves.
“Forgive you? Your illness was cured, yet you
lied for almost a year.”
“Did you not think about this when you were
with Jessica?”
I spat on John’s face.
He didn’t flinch, his eyes pleading.
The “OCD” was a facade to cover his
infidelity.
“Sarah, please look at me?”
He grabbed my hand, placing it on his
shoulder.
“I won’t reject you anymore. Touch me, do
whatever makes you happy.”
The touch sent chills down my spine.
Soon, the family group chat exploded. John’s parents scolded me for being
heartless.
For mistreating their son.
“Sarah, you promised to take care of our son
forever. He just took a photo with a model.
You’re young, why are you so backward?”
I snorted,
sending the “art photo” to the group.
The group fell silent.
John sweated, trying to dissolve the chat, too
late.
Everyone saw him and Jessica naked.
No one defended him.
After ten minutes, members left the group.
John’s mother called, furious:
“You’re no longer part of our family. I don’t
have such a shameful son! Look after
yourself!”
As she hung up, I packed my bags.
<
Placing the divorce papers on the table, I said
coldly:
“I have more evidence. If you still refuse to
divorce, I won’t mind giving your parents more
surprises.”
My threat stopped John’s tears.
He gritted his teeth, signing the papers. Tears fell onto the paper, smudging the ink. “Sarah… I only loved you. Even if I crossed the line with Jessica, it doesn’t affect my love
for you.”
“I can prove it…”
I ignored him,
taking the signed papers and leaving.
More than love, I craved freedom.
11
In the days before my departure, I stayed at a
hotel Summer arranged.
I blocked John’s contact information for
peace of mind.
Hours before my flight,
an unknown number called. John was trying
one last time.
“Sarah, my family disowned me. If I lose you,
I’ll have nothing.”
“My new exhibition has started; I used our
photo as the centerpiece. Can you see it?”
“Please, give me one more chance.”
John’s voice was interrupted.
“What’s so good about that woman? Why
bother?”
“John, you said Sarah was boring and rigid,
so you pretended to have OCD to avoid her.
Why change your mind now?”
It was Jessica, she seemed distraught.
Smashing things, making a racket.
“Jessica, stop it. I was momentarily infatuated
with you, but you’re an outsider!”
“My time with Sarah is irreplaceable!”
I listened to the commotion, recalling our
<
youthful romance.
The roundabout way only made it more
complicated. I finally understood.
Jessica grabbed the phone.
She yelled:
“Sarah, you know John thinks you’re boring,
unromantic.”
“He pretended to have OCD to avoid touching
you.”
“Leave him; you’re not worthy!”
I wasn’t angered by this twenty–something
girl’s outburst.
I teased:
“My trash is your treasure?”
My words ignited her fury.
She glared at John:
“John, say it! You love me. Tell this woman
she’s unworthy of your love!”
John remained silent.
I checked the time; two hours until departure.
<
I hung up, got a new number, and broke my
seven–year–old SIM card, throwing it out the
window.
The torment was over.
12
Two weeks after arriving abroad, I joined a
new company thanks to Summer.
My skills helped me get promoted and a 30%
higher salary than expected.
Despite leaving John, some habits remained.
I disinfected my apartment daily.
Changed bedsheets every other day.
I even developed his hand–washing habit.
After consulting a therapist, I was diagnosed
with mild OCD.
Months of treatment improved my condition.
On the day I finished therapy,
I saw news about John online.
In the past six months,
he’d held over ten exhibitions, each featuring
<
<
our photo.
In an interview, John, dressed in white, was
teary–eyed.
These exhibitions were his self–redemption.
He’d discarded someone who loved him
deeply, only to offer belated “reparation,” a
mockery.
Soon, John stopped exhibiting new work.
I called a friend in the country.
John’s ex–wife Jessica found John
repeatedly, wanting to reconcile.
He coldly refused.
In revenge, Jessica leaked his infidelity to the
media.
His fake OCD, his fraudulent exhibitions, and
tax evasion.
His social media accounts were banned.
The police investigated, and all accusations
were true.
John was arrested.
At the trial, he admitted all charges.
It was live–streamed. John stared at the
camera, ignoring the judge.
“Sarah, are you watching?”
“Everyone’s seen our photo. I kept my
promise.”
“Forgive me… forgive me…”
John appeared unstable.
He scratched his hair, causing it to bleed.
He laughed maniacally.
The court adjourned, taking him for
treatment.
The last news I had was a year later.
John had severe mental illness and was
hospitalized.
His family and friends distanced themselves.
Jessica told me.
She regretted her actions, realizing her
obsession ruined everyone.
She wanted John’s love.
She somehow got my number and told me
everything.
“Without me, would you and John have lived
happily?”
“It’s my fault; my selfishness ruined
everyone…”
I told her not to contact me again and hung
- up.
The past was gone, a new life had begun.
I moved on.
