The Dead Moonlight, Ten Years of Lies3 / 3

Chapter 3

03.

I signed the papers and left them in the most obvious spot in the house.

Then, I called a realtor to cancel the lease on this apartment.

After the divorce, I planned to go abroad and finally pursue my dream of professional photography.

For years, I had stayed in the city working a soul-sucking design job I hated, just to earn enough to give her a better life.

I didn't need to do that anymore.

The realtor didn't pick up, but Andrea came home.

She placed her massive trophy in the center of the living room like it was a holy relic. She didn't even notice I was packing.

It wasn't until I dragged my suitcase into the living room that her face twisted in annoyance.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Did you make that honey-lemon tea like I asked? Sebastian's mother is waiting!"

Clearly, she had already erased our earlier fight from her mind.

I didn't say a word. I kept moving toward the door, but Andrea couldn't wait and stormed into the kitchen.

When she saw the stove was cold and the counters were empty, she lost it.

"Lucas, what is wrong with you? Didn't I tell you she needed that tea?"

"The seasons are changing and her throat is sore. Can't you be useful for once?"

"Move! Go to the market and get the freshest lemons. Make sure the skins are thin so they're sweet and easy to digest."

Andrea barked orders at me like I was a servant.

She didn't care about my feelings at all.

My heart felt like a block of ice.

After we got married, Andrea never took care of me again. Even when I drank myself sick at business dinners and begged her for a simple soup, she refused.

"Lucas, I'm busy. I don't have time for that. Besides, I don't know how to cook."

When I asked about those old lunch boxes, she admitted she had just ordered takeout and plated it herself.

I had been silent then.

For ten years, I thought she just wasn't the domestic type, but now I understood.

It wasn't that she couldn't do it; she just wouldn't do it for me.

I took a deep breath and swallowed the bitterness. But Andrea wasn't done.

She grabbed my suitcase and hurled it onto the floor, screaming.

"Lucas! Enough! It was just one wedding!"

"I already told you I'd give you another one! What more do you want?"

The suitcase cracked open, and my favorite vintage camera shattered into pieces.

Watching my partner of ten years fall apart on the floor, I knelt down with a trembling heart to pick it up. But Andrea kicked it right out the front door.

The camera tumbled down the stairs. The body of the device, already cracked, completely disintegrated. I was shaking, but Andrea remained unmoved.

"You spend all day playing with these junk machines anyway! It's not like you've ever made a name for yourself!"

"I'm doing you a favor by smashing this trash! Now you won't have any distractions!"

My fists clenched tight. For the first time in my life, I interrupted her. "The divorce papers are signed. They're on the table."

"Just sign your part and give them back."

Andrea froze. She turned and saw the documents on the table.

A flash of panic crossed her eyes, and her voice suddenly softened.

"Lucas, I'm sorry about my attitude just now. I apologize."

"But Sebastian's mom is really suffering. Just show some heart and do this one good deed, okay?"

She was pleading with me, but it was all for Sebastian's mother.

I saw her for who she was. I left the broken luggage behind, grabbed my ID and passport, and stood up to leave.

Andrea's patience snapped again. She grabbed a heavy glass from the table and threw it at my head.