Chapter 58 - Divorce papers

Chapter 58: Chapter 58 - Divorce papers

One of her suitcases had fallen open in the hallway.

Mo Yuxin stood over it, staring at the clothes spilling across the floor. A silk blouse had caught beneath a wheel, its sleeve twisted under the weight of the case. Beside it lay a small jewellery box, the lid hanging loose and several earrings scattered near the skirting board.

They had packed her things as though they were clearing out a room for someone else.

Her teeth ground together.

She crouched and tugged the blouse free. A dark mark ran across the pale fabric where the wheel had pressed it into the floor. She rubbed at it with her thumb, making no difference, then flung it onto the suitcase.

"Useless."

The word sounded unusually loud in the empty house.

No maid hurried over to apologise. No butler appeared to ask what had upset her. The men who had delivered her belongings were already gone, leaving several cases, a stack of boxes, and a set of keys on the entrance table.

Mo Yuxin looked around.

The house was decent. That almost made it worse.

It stood in a quiet residential neighbourhood behind a short wall, with a narrow strip of garden beside the entrance. Downstairs, there was a sitting room, a dining area, and a kitchen fitted with everything she would need. The windows were large enough to let in plenty of light. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a smaller room that could serve as a study.

Someone had cleaned before she arrived. The floors shone, the curtains were new, and there were fresh sheets on the bed.

Ying Rui had arranged it properly.

He hadn’t abandoned her somewhere filthy or unsafe. The refrigerator had been stocked, the utilities were working, and the envelope beside the keys contained the contact details for a property manager.

He had made sure she could live here.

Apparently, that was all he thought she needed.

Mo Yuxin walked into the sitting room, her heels clicking against the floor. A pale sofa faced a television mounted on the wall. There was a low table, a rug, and two chairs near the window, all tasteful enough that she couldn’t even call them ugly.

She set her handbag down and looked at the space around it.

Her old sitting room could have held this entire arrangement with room to spare.

She used to complain when the maids placed fresh flowers where they blocked her view of the garden. Now there wasn’t even a vase on the table.

Her throat tightened.

She turned away before the thought could settle and went into the kitchen.

A note had been left on the counter explaining where various things were kept. She glanced at it, then pushed it aside. Through the window above the sink, she could see the fence separating the little garden from the neighbouring property.

A woman next door was taking clothes off a drying rack.

Mo Yuxin stepped back before the woman could look up.

She couldn’t bear the idea of being seen standing there with her coat still on, surrounded by someone else’s idea of a suitable home.

Her phone lay silent in her handbag.

She took it out and checked the screen.

No call from Ying Rui.

She had sent him several messages since leaving. The first had been angry. After that, she had tried explaining again, telling him that the children had upset her and that things had happened too quickly. Later, when he still hadn’t answered, she had apologised.

She had even asked whether he had eaten.

Nothing.

Mo Yuxin opened their conversation and read her last message.

We shouldn’t discuss our marriage when we’re both angry. Let’s talk properly once you’ve calmed down.

At the time, sending it had helped. It had allowed her to believe they were merely waiting for an argument to pass.

Looking at it now, she felt foolish.

She locked the screen and pressed the phone against her palm.

He would come around.

He had to.

There was Ying Di to consider. Their years together. The dinners she had attended beside him, the relatives she had entertained, the household she had managed while he was away.

He couldn’t simply stop being her husband because of one terrible evening.

She was still standing in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

Her head lifted.

For one brief, humiliating moment, she thought it might be him.

She hurried into the hallway, stepping over the clothes beside the open suitcase. Before opening the door, she smoothed her hair and wiped beneath her eyes.

A man in a dark suit stood outside with a document envelope.

He introduced himself as someone from Ying Rui’s legal office.

Mo Yuxin’s hand tightened around the door.

"What is it?"

"Mr Ying asked that these be delivered to you directly."

Her eyes dropped to the envelope.

The man held it out, but she didn’t take it immediately.

He waited with the careful expression of someone who had been warned that the delivery might be unpleasant.

"Is he coming?" she asked.

"I’m only here to deliver the documents, Mrs Ying."

The title steadied her for a moment.

She took the envelope.

After confirming receipt, the man left. She remained by the open door until he reached his car, then shut it slowly.

The paper was thick beneath her fingers.

Mo Yuxin slid a nail under the flap and tore it open.

Several documents came out together. She caught them against her chest before they could fall, irritated by the sudden clumsiness of her hands.

Then she saw the heading.

For a few seconds, she couldn’t read beyond it.

She looked again, certain there must be something she had misunderstood.

There wasn’t.

Her name was there. Ying Rui’s name was beside it.

Divorce.

The hallway seemed to tilt.

She reached for the entrance table, but her fingers struck the edge without finding a grip. Her knees gave way, and she sank onto the floor among the scattered clothes.

The documents trembled in her hands.

He had actually done it.

She had heard him say the words. She had watched the servants pack her things. Yet some stubborn part of her had continued to believe that he was frightening her, making a point before allowing her to return.

Now there were pages explaining how their marriage would end.

Mo Yuxin pressed a hand over her mouth.

So many years.

She had spent so many years on that man.

She remembered choosing what to wear before seeing him, learning which subjects bored him and which ones might keep him talking a little longer. Even after they married, she had paid attention to his moods, his work schedule, the rare occasions when he came home willing to sit and listen.

She had given birth to his son.

She had waited through business trips, attended events where she smiled until her face hurt, and listened to people praise what a good match they made.

And now she was on the floor of a house she hadn’t chosen, holding papers delivered by a stranger because Ying Rui couldn’t even be bothered to come himself.

A tear fell onto the page.

She wiped it away quickly, smearing the ink slightly beneath her thumb.

"No."

Her voice came out thin.

She shuffled through the documents, searching for something she could argue with. Some outrageous condition. Something that would give her a reason to call him and demand that he explain himself.

Instead, she found a copy of the prenuptial agreement.

Mo Yuxin went still.

She recognised her signature before she read a word.

Back then, she had signed readily.

There had been people who doubted her intentions. She had known what they said about her, even when they were polite enough to lower their voices. Marrying into the Ying family meant enduring those little looks, those careful questions about her background.

Signing the agreement had felt like an answer to all of them.

She wasn’t marrying Ying Rui for his money.

She had told him that herself.

At the time, she had believed the gesture would matter to him. She had imagined that he would remember her willingness to trust him, perhaps soften toward her because of it.

And once they were married, what difference would a few signatures make?

She would be his wife. Ying Di would be his son.

Their lives would be joined for good.

Mo Yuxin stared at the signature until the letters blurred.

She had been so certain of herself.

During their marriage, there had been no reason to think about what belonged to her. If she wanted clothes, she bought them. If a friend suggested lunch at an expensive restaurant, she went. Cars were available whenever she needed one, and household expenses were settled before she ever saw a bill.

The ease of it had made ownership seem irrelevant.

Now she tried to think of what she actually had.

The house she had lived in belonged to Ying Rui. The cars were his. The money that supported the household had never passed into her name.

There were clothes upstairs that cost more than some people earned in a month, and jewellery scattered on the floor beside her.

But she couldn’t pay for the rest of her life with a wardrobe.

Her breathing became shallow.

She turned another page.

There was an arrangement for her support.

Ying Rui had established a trust fund that would release a fixed amount to her each month. The accompanying letter explained it plainly. The accommodation had been arranged separately, and the payments would provide for her ordinary living expenses.

She read the amount.

Then she read it again.

With the house taken care of, it was enough to live on. Groceries, electricity, transport, the everyday things she had rarely needed to price herself.

She wouldn’t starve.

She wouldn’t be forced to beg anyone for a bed.

Ying Rui had been careful about that too.

Mo Yuxin let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

The amount was less than she had once spent on a handbag without giving it much thought.

She could already imagine herself calculating purchases, checking a balance before agreeing to dinner, deciding whether something could wait until the next payment arrived.

What would she tell people?

That she no longer liked the restaurants they went to? That she was tired of shopping? How long could she keep making excuses before someone noticed she had disappeared from every gathering?

She looked around the hallway again.

The modest entrance table. The narrow stairs. Her suitcase lying open because nobody remained to unpack it.

A practical house and enough money to maintain herself.

That was what all those years had become.

She dragged her phone from her pocket and called Ying Rui.

The call rang until it ended.

She tried again.

When he still didn’t answer, she opened their messages. Her fingers shook so badly that she mistyped the first sentence twice.

You can’t send me these papers and refuse to speak to me.

She stared at the words, then added another line.

What am I supposed to do with this amount? You know how I’ve lived all these years.

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

For a moment, she considered deleting it. The message sounded ugly in a way she didn’t want him to hear. Too concerned with the money, too far from everything she had said when she signed that agreement.

Then she looked at the monthly figure again.

She sent it.

The screen remained unchanged.

Mo Yuxin waited until her knees began to ache against the floor. At last, she gathered the papers and pushed herself upright, using the entrance table for support.

The little jewellery box lay beside her shoe.

She bent to collect it and found one of her earrings beneath the suitcase. Its delicate post had been bent.

She held it in her palm.

Something hot rose in her throat.

She had worn those earrings to a dinner with Ying Rui only a few months ago. Someone had complimented them, and she had turned toward him, hoping he had heard.

She couldn’t even remember whether he had looked.

Mo Yuxin closed her hand around the earring and carried the documents into the sitting room.

She laid them on the table, carefully aligning the edges.

Her phone went beside them, screen facing up.

Then she sat on the unfamiliar sofa and waited for her husband to call.