Calmly, I said, "I’m not obligated to cook for you. Alice, this marriage is over. I’ll have the divorce papers ready by today."
On the other end of the phone, Alice’s tone suddenly turned cold. "Are you serious? Are you really going through with this? I am your only family now and you want to divorce me?"
Her words struck me like a dagger. Six months ago, my parents had gone on a trip. Their bus was caught in a landslide on a mountain road. By the time rescuers arrived, it was too late—they were gone.
Alice knew this was the most painful memory of my life, yet she still used it against me. I was speechless.
After a moment, her voice softened. "I'm sorry, I got a little emotional. Tomorrow is the weekend—why don’t we go to the resort? I’ll take you to a hot spring."
I had suggested going to the resort multiple times before, hoping it could help bridge the growing gap between us. Every time, she refused, claiming she was too busy with work.
And now, suddenly, she was willing to go? Too late.
"No need," I rejected her outright.