“Exactly!” someone else added, shaking his head in disbelief. “Look at his eyes, bloodshot from staying up late. He works all day, then comes home and still takes care of you and the baby. How can you bear to say divorce?”
Their voices tangled together, pushing down on me from all sides. I shook my head.
“No secrets. I simply want a divorce. I’m tired of this life.”
My father slammed his teacup onto the table so hard that tea spilled over the rim. “Angela, you explain this to me! What has Jonathan ever done to wrong you? During your confinement, he stayed up nights to take care of you. When you fell ill, he rushed you to the hospital in the middle of the night. And now you already have a child together, yet you say you’ll just leave? Can you face him? Can you face your child?”
I lifted my eyes toward Jonathan.
His bloodshot gaze brimmed with exhaustion and panic. “Dad, it’s because he’s been so good… that I have to leave.”
I ignored the confusion burning in everyone’s eyes and looked straight at Jonathan, expressionless. “Just take it as me being tired of you. Three days from now, we’ll meet at the court.”