The rain started falling as she walked down the street.
She didn't know how long she had been walking.
Her legs felt heavy, but she didn't stop.
Cars passed by. People hurried under umbrellas.
No one noticed her.
No one cared.
She finally stopped under a streetlight and looked at her phone.
No missed calls.
No messages.
As expected.
She laughed softly, a bitter sound escaping her lips.
"So this is it," she murmured. "Three years… gone."
She opened her bag and took out the divorce papers.
Her name was still fresh on the last page.
Her signature.
It felt unreal.
Just this morning, she was still someone's wife.
By nightfall, she had become nothing.
Her phone buzzed suddenly.
Her heart jumped.
For a second, she thought it was him.
She quickly checked the screen.
Mom.
Her fingers froze.
She didn't answer.
What could she say?
Mom, your daughter has been divorced and thrown away like trash?
She couldn't.
The phone stopped ringing.
A few seconds later, a message appeared.
Mom:Are you okay? You didn't come home today.
Tears filled her eyes.
Even now, her mother was worried about her.
She typed slowly.
Her:I'm fine. I'll come tomorrow.
She put the phone away and hugged her arms tightly.
The rain soaked her clothes.
The cold seeped into her bones.
But none of it hurt as much as her heart.
She ended up in a small hotel near the station.
The room was tiny. The bed was hard.
But she didn't complain.
She lay down and stared at the ceiling.
Everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her mind replayed his words again and again.
"You were my wife on paper."
"This marriage was a mistake."
She closed her eyes tightly.
"No," she whispered. "I won't cry anymore."
She had cried enough for him.
She turned on her side, hugging the pillow.
Sleep didn't come.
Instead, memories attacked her.
The first year of marriage.
She remembered waiting for him late at night.
She would cook and keep the food warm.
When he finally came home, she would smile and say,
"You must be tired."
He rarely replied.
The second year.
He stopped coming home regularly.
She told herself he was busy.
She learned to eat alone.
The third year.
He barely spoke to her at all.
And today—
Divorce.
She opened her eyes suddenly.
A strange calm settled over her chest.
She realized something.
She had done everything she could.
She had loved.
She had waited.
She had endured.
If anyone had failed this marriage—
It wasn't her.
That thought gave her a little strength.
The next morning, she returned to her mother's house.
Her mother opened the door and froze.
"Why do you look so thin?" her mother asked worriedly. "And your face… did you cry?"
She shook her head quickly. "No, Mom. I just didn't sleep well."
Her mother didn't fully believe her, but didn't press.
"Come inside," she said. "I made breakfast."
The familiar smell made her chest ache.
She sat at the table quietly.
Her mother watched her carefully.
After a moment, she spoke softly.
"He came yesterday."
Her heart skipped a beat.
"…Who?"
"Your husband."
Her fingers tightened around the spoon.
"What did he say?"
"He asked where you were," her mother replied. "He looked impatient."
Impatient.
Of course.
"He said something about business," her mother continued. "I thought you were fighting."
She lowered her head.
"We're… divorced," she said quietly.
Her mother froze.
The spoon fell from her hand.
"Divorced?" Her voice shook. "What do you mean divorced?"
She repeated the word calmly.
Her mother's eyes turned red immediately.
"Why?" she demanded. "What did you do wrong?"
That question hurt.
"Nothing," she said firmly. "I did nothing wrong."
Her mother stared at her, then suddenly pulled her into a tight hug.
"Then it's his loss," her mother said angrily. "If he doesn't know how to cherish you, he doesn't deserve you."
Tears finally fell.
Not because of him.
But because someone still cared.
Meanwhile, in another part of the city—
He stood by the window of his office.
The divorce papers were already processed.
He felt… nothing.
Or so he thought.
"Sir," his assistant said. "Ms. Lin will arrive in ten minutes."
He nodded.
Good.
Everything was going as planned.
No more useless marriage.
No more unnecessary responsibility.
His phone buzzed.
A message notification.
For some reason, he expected to see her name.
But it wasn't her.
It was empty.
He frowned slightly.
He told himself it didn't matter.
She was probably crying somewhere.
That was how she always was.
Weak.
Dependent.
He turned away from the window.
Back at her mother's house, she stood in front of the mirror.
She looked pale.
Her eyes were tired.
She barely recognized herself.
"This won't do," she said softly.
She took a deep breath and washed her face.
When she looked up again, something had changed.
The pain was still there.
But there was also determination.
She opened her phone and scrolled through old photos.
Most of them were of him.
She deleted them.
One by one.
No hesitation.
Then she opened her bank app.
The amount he had given her after the divorce stared back at her.
She clenched her jaw.
"I won't touch this money," she said. "Not a single cent."
She would survive on her own.
She would stand on her own feet.
She wouldn't beg.
She wouldn't look back.
That night, she lay on the bed, staring at the dark ceiling.
For the first time, she thought about her future.
Not as someone's wife.
But as herself.
She didn't know how long it would take.
She didn't know how hard it would be.
But one thing was clear.
She would never allow anyone to treat her like that again.
Somewhere deep in her heart, a quiet voice whispered—
One day… he will regret this.
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time since the divorce—
She slept peacefully.
She didn't know it yet,
but the woman he abandoned today—
would soon become someone he could no longer reach.