I Divorced Him Quietly, Then He Went Crazy - Chapter 1
The moment I scrolled through social media and saw the news of Evelyn Tan’s divorce, I knew it was over for Jeremy and me.
And not just me, of course.
Everyone felt the same way.
I saw many comments beneath that post.
Jeremy’s friends, classmates, business partners.
They were asking:
“Evelyn, celebrating your return to singlehood! When are you coming back?”
“Yeah, someone’s been waiting for you for ages.”
These people, when they faced me, were always distant.
I’d go with Jeremy to gatherings, and they’d politely call me ‘Mrs. Zhou,’ but then immediately avert their gaze, unwilling to say another word.
Yet, sometimes when our eyes met, I could see it clearly.
Their eyes held a hint of pity for me.
Indeed.
In movies and stories, who doesn’t love to see talented men and beautiful women finally unite?
Life already has enough regrets and imperfections.
Jeremy Zhou and Evelyn Tan were such a perfect pair.
They grew up together, studied together, and then naturally fell in love.
Everyone around them said they would surely marry – if Evelyn hadn’t married someone else.
I had seen old photos of Evelyn Tan and Jeremy Zhou at his mother’s house before.
Evelyn Tan was very beautiful, with skin as white as porcelain, standing delicately beside him, her eyes full of laughter.
Anyone would praise them as a perfect match.
His mother sighed and told me, “Evelyn, that girl, I don’t know what she was thinking, she went abroad and just got married there. Poor Jeremy…”
She stopped there.
But I knew she meant to say, ‘Poor Jeremy lost his beloved, and then haphazardly married me.’
To him, she was the beloved of his past, a scar that had healed.
She wouldn’t be intentionally brought up, nor would she cause pain.
But when he thought of her, he would still lose himself.
They had seen him fight for her, get jealous, suffer, and in the end, it all amounted to nothing.
Looking at Jeremy and me later, it inevitably felt… lacking.
It wasn’t that Jeremy treated me badly.
He was a very respectable man.
No matter where we were, he always gave me the respect due to Mrs. Zhou.
I’d go with him to the ancestral home for dinner, and afterward, he’d hold my hand as we strolled in the garden.
When I sprained my ankle, he’d crouch down, turn his back to me, tilt his head slightly, and in the moonlight, there was even a hint of tenderness.
He’d ‘tsk’ and say, “Get on.”
I often stayed up late working.
He’d wait by my side with a cup of milk, leaning casually against the wall, gently tapping my desk, “Drink it quickly, I need to wash the cup.”
He was never out of sorts in front of me.
He handled everything with effortless ease.
Even in bed, with his eyes flushed, in our most intimate moments, he would just smile, as if compromising, and call my name, his voice utterly cool.
“Charlotte Chu.”
Let’s just stay like this, okay?”
His first love had married another, and he had married me.
So, he told me, “Let’s just stay like this.”
