My heart felt like it was being squeezed, and even breathing hurt. But I still managed a smile, took out the magazine, and stuffed it into Felix Shaw’s arms.
“Here you go, I don’t want it anymore.”
This identity is Mrs. Shaw.
And these three years of being ignored.
I didn’t want any of it.
The next day, I showed up at the press conference on time.
The spotlights stabbed me like countless sharp knives.
I was wearing a rose-colored dress, a stark contrast to Felix Shaw’s request for white.
Taking the microphone from the host, I spoke calmly.
“I was wrongly arrested because my husband, Mr. Felix Shaw, claimed in front of the police that he didn’t know me.”
The whole audience was in an uproar.
I paused, looking at a camera, as if I were looking through it at Felix Shaw.
“I imagine it must be very painful for someone who can’t recognize their wife after three years of marriage to be trapped in a marriage.”
“So, I’ve decided to oblige him.”
“Mr. Felix Shaw and I will be divorcing.”
Only when I got in the car did I realize my hands were shaking. It wasn’t fear, but the relief of finally breaking free from the shackles.
My phone vibrated frantically, the words “Felix Shaw” appearing on the screen.