The Reason We Must Divorce

 

“I won’t be able to bear your child.”

 

At her weakly spoken words, his gaze turned sharp.

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“Just look at me.”

 

The bright sunlight ruthlessly revealed her sunken cheeks, her dry, straw-like corn-colored hair, her overly thin neck with prominent veins, and her protruding collarbones. 

 

Regina resembled a vegetable that had been overcooked in a pot, losing all color and flavor. Her body, which could barely maintain its shape, seemed far from being able to nurture new life and was on the verge of breaking apart.

 

“As you can see, I won’t be able to have a child.”

 

“The doctor didn’t say you were infertile, though.”

 

“She didn’t say it was possible either. Did you even listen to what I said?”

 

He stared intently at her with an unreadable expression, his gaze sharp and elegant like a finely honed ornamental blade. Avoiding his eyes, she looked down.

 

“While I was in coma, I didn’t menstruate even once. It’s been over a year, so it’s essentially infertility.”

 

“Who told you that? The doctor? Or a maid?”

 

“Why? Is it so strange for me to know the state of my own body?”

 

“I’m only trying to figure out who filled your head with such uncertainties.”

 

“It’s not that, is it? You just want to track down the traitor.”

 

Every employee in this household followed Gray’s orders to the letter. If he didn’t permit it, she wouldn’t even know if she were dying from a terminal illness until her last breath.

 

The isolated, luxurious, yet frigid cage was unbearably lonely.

 

“It’s not too late. Gray, divorce me and find a new wife.”

 

Please smile, Regina. Pretend that separating would only bring bright futures for both of you. Don’t, by any means, let yourself imagine his perfect new wife or the adorable, beloved children he would have.

 

“…You’re such a cruel woman.”

 

Gray reached out and gently touched her delicate neck. It was as though he was either soothing her or contemplating strangling her.

 

But he did neither.

 

“You cry endlessly whenever divorce is mentioned, yet here you are talking about separation.”

 

Gray softly wiped the tears from her eyes and then licked his fingers. The bitter taste of her unrequited love delighted him.

 

“You love me, Regina.”

 

The cold smile on his lips, full of arrogance, backed her into a corner.

 

“You’ll never leave me.”

 

Like a hawk seizing a rabbit, Gray grabbed her hair and devoured her lips. His scent mixed with body heat surged in like a crashing wave, overtaking her mind.

 

It was their first kiss in a year. Though their lips met, it felt as sharp and painful as if two rusted blades clashed.

 

“Stop…”

 

Even the brief moment when she tried to push him away was swallowed up. She could feel her desperate love in his grip and his lips, rendering her powerless to resist.

 

Her hands fell limp, and hot tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. Watching her from such a close distance, Gray’s eyes crinkled with amusement.

 

“Regina. My wife.”

 

Gray pressed his lips against her roughly as if savoring his beautiful possession. His hands enclosed her fragile frame, which felt so delicate that he couldn’t apply force anywhere. The unattainable made him thirst even more.

 

For a moment, he thought he felt a small hand touch his shoulder. Did she want to embrace him? No. It was a self-centered and overly optimistic misunderstanding.

 

Regina was pounding her fists against him to push him away. Her trembling lips, from which salty tears seeped, made the resistance even clearer. Yet her murmurs of protest were swallowed into his stomach, barely audible. Even if they had been, he wouldn’t have heard them. His ears rang incessantly, and all his nerves were focused on the points of contact with her.

 

Time felt both suspended and rushed. It didn’t matter. He was engrossed in tearing apart the thin, soft fabric that carried her warmth and scent.

 

The pale garments fluttered down to the floor. Whether time moved slowly or quickly, it always came to an end. Regina, who had been helplessly at his mercy, suddenly went limp. The sensation of her slipping from his grasp felt like being doused in cold water.

 

“…Regina?”

 

As he barely managed to catch her and lay her on the bed, her tear-streaked face came into view. She was gasping desperately for breath, as though she might have a seizure at any moment.

 

“Cough, cough!”

 

Seeing her like this after just a kiss was absurd. Her face was paler than the sheets the maids boiled clean every day.

 

Only then did he remember that his wife was a patient who had just woken up from a coma. Gray, momentarily regretful of his earlier excitement, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her wet lips.

 

Regina, shivering slightly and curling up, seemed strangely cold. Even though he had covered her with a blanket, the flatness beneath the sheet made him chuckle bitterly.

 

“With such a frail body, where do you think you’re going? Instead of wasting time on foolish thoughts, focus on recovery. That’s the only way you’ll accept me and carry the Cavill family’s seed, isn’t it?”

 

Pressing his finger against where he guessed her stomach to be beneath the blanket, Regina’s eyes rolled back, and this time, she seemed to faint for real.

 

“So fragile.”

 

Shaking his head, he pulled out a cigar and lit it. The bitter taste and heat washed away her lingering presence on his tongue.

 

As he turned away with lighter steps, his foot landed on something on the floor.

 

That damn divorce petition. 

 

The painstakingly written document by his timid wife, who couldn’t even look him in the eye out of fear of softening her resolve.

 

***

 

In her dream, Regina was walking through an autumnal garden. Beside her, Gray held an umbrella, shielding her from the pouring sunlight.

 

“If you’re careless just because it’s autumn, you’ll end up badly sunburned.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Her face lit up at his gesture, unaware it was a calculated ploy to win her over. Caught up in her excitement, she babbled aimlessly.

 

“It’s strange, isn’t it? It’s the same year, but I don’t like the autumn sun.”

 

“Any particular reason?” 

 

“Spring and summer sunlight nourishes life, but autumn sunlight feels like a wildfire, drying out and killing the few remaining flowers.”

 

Regina, with her lovely lips slightly pouting, looked around the garden. The grass had already turned into a dry golden hue, and the leaves seemed to be engaged in a color war of yellow, red, and a slower green. Autumn, blossoming over the withered flowers, was dazzlingly radiant.

 

“I have a question,” Gray said.

 

“What is it?”

 

After some thought, Gray slowly opened his mouth.

 

“Why do ladies like receiving flowers? They have no practical use, depreciate extremely quickly, and are so common that they lack any premium value.”

 

“…What?”

 

Regina, who had been listening intently, burst into laughter. How could such peculiar words come out of such an elegant, ice-sculpted face?

 

“Is that something a man who sends flowers every day should say, Gray?”

 

“I send them because you smile like that.”

 

He gazed quietly at the dimple forming on one corner of Regina’s lips and gently poked it with his finger. There was a time when even that dry touch seemed so endearing.

 

“Now that you’re done laughing, answer my question.”

 

“You already answered it yourself, Gray.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Flowers may lack practicality, depreciate quickly, and be common… But they’re a gift meant solely for me, given with no other purpose.”

 

A gift for the sake of giving, making it perfect. Even though you think flowers are worthless, you give them simply because I like them.

 

So how could I ever dislike the flowers you give me?

***

 

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