At that, he grabbed my suitcase and slammed it down. “Stop acting like a child, Julia! This is Kate’s last competition. I’m only asking you to help her this one time.” Ryan tugged my hand again as he pleaded, "I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
Ignoring him, I bent down, picked up my broken suitcase, and made my way toward the door.
But he wouldn’t move.
He blocked the doorway, exasperation etched across his face. "Julia, what do you really want? I’ve apologized and given you my reasons. Why are you still angry over such a trivial matter? Even if the industry blacklists you, I can still take care of you.”
Seeing his concerned expression, a surge of bitterness rose in my stomach. “If that’s the case, then go ahead and protect her. But leave me out of it, Ryan.”
He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his temples as though he was the one suffering, completely oblivious to why I was finally, irrevocably done.
A few days passed without a word from Ryan, not a single message. But the day before my scheduled medical check-up, he finally called.
"Haven't you had enough of this? Isn't it time to come back home? Come on, Julia." His tone was cold and sharp.
Hearing his words, I felt my brow crease slightly. "You think I'm throwing a tantrum? Fine, let's make it official. I want a divorce, Ryan. Arrange it as soon as possible," I said, keeping my voice steady. "And make sure the assets are divided clearly."
After saying that, I could practically hear him assume my reason for divorce was money. I caught that edge of disdain in his voice as he replied, "Have I ever left you short on cash? Going as far as asking for a divorce just to get a piece of my fortune, how low, Julia."
I didn't bother explaining my reasons for wanting a divorce. I was just done with this life. I was done being his wife. All I wanted was to leave him.
When I asked him when he'd be available to handle the divorce paperwork, he would always snap and hang up the phone on me. I figured that would be the end of it.
But just half an hour later, there he was, showing up at the door of my studio.
The first thing out of his mouth was an accusation. "Do you have someone else?"
Seeing him twist things around to blame me made my blood boil instantly. I pointed at the door and said, "If you're just going to berate one, then get out."