Chapter 15

At the age of twenty, I decided to divorce Alexander.

It was a beautiful morning.

Alexander Vance’s gift box was accidentally splashed with water by the aunt, and he was very angry.

He lectured me in a low voice, “Eleanor Vance, you should be more careful.”

“This is a gift I had someone buy from abroad, and I have a business meeting at noon today.”

I bowed my head and scooped up some lean meat porridge.

Across from me was Theodore, eating with an inscrutable expression.

Alexander sighed, “Eleanor, if you can’t be a good wife, can’t you at least be a good mother?”

“Theodore’s grades have been slipping lately, and he didn’t win any awards in the piano competition.”

I’ve been supervising his homework, but he deliberately leaves his papers unfinished, and he brought the wrong sheet music to the competition.

Theodore, the person in question, continued to eat with his head down.

When I took Theodore to school, I asked for the first time, “Theodore, you’re nine years old, why do you never speak up for your mom?”

He turned his head to look out the window, saying nothing.

Theodore’s personality has grown increasingly silent, rarely showing empathy.

I love him, I tolerate him, but I am also weary.

I felt a great void.

—-Raising a child is, in the end, just a betrayal.

Outside the car window, the morning light mixed with smog was a warm yellow, stretching to the boundless horizon.

Just like these ten years of mine, ambiguous and dim.

Yet the sadness in my heart was fleeting.

Because soon I would play tennis, and in the afternoon I would work on the client proposal introduced by Sophia.

Most importantly, I received a diagnosis report this morning: five years without recurrence, completely cured.

My happiness was so silent yet grand.

But it had nothing to do with this family.

I should leave.

“Eleanor Vance, what a coincidence.”

A Porsche stopped in front of me, the window rolled down to reveal Benjamin’s face.