She didn’t turn around. Just waved a hand over her shoulder.
“Go to bed. Don’t wait up.”
The door closed behind her.
I sat on the couch all night, waiting. She never came back.
By morning, my whole body was stiff. I stood slowly, bracing myself on my knees and shuffled to the bathroom.
Staring at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror, I gave a small, bitter smile.
What was I expecting?
I picked up my phone and called a friend—he’s a lawyer.
“Can you draw up a divorce agreement for me?”
There was a pause.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“But didn’t you love her like she was your whole world? You wouldn’t marry anyone else.”
I said nothing.
The first time I saw Bianca, I knew.
I never believed in love at first sight—until it happened to me.
For three years, I chased her. Rain or shine, I brought her breakfast every single morning.
My classmates laughed. Called me a simp. Said she’d never choose someone like me.
But I didn’t care.
I believed that sincerity could move mountains.
At our graduation party, she said,
“If you can bring me 999 roses before midnight, I’ll be your girlfriend.”
I ran through every florist near campus and along the nearby streets, just to gather the 999 roses she asked for.