Divorced and Left Broke

When Neil Young brought up divorce again, I calmly signed the divorce agreement and began to cut off all contact between us.

On the first day, I sold the unfinished marital house I had bought two years ago.

On the second day, I stopped his grandma’s monthly $2,000 pension and cancelled his sister’s supplementary card.

On the third day, I called my brother and returned to my real home.

Once the plane touched down, I suddenly became curious.

Without me, his ever-ready, self-sacrificing maid, how would Neil support his irritable grandmother, vain sister, and leeching junior?

"Ms. Montana, if you're sure you want to sell the house, just sign here." The realtor, Anna Charleton, handed me a contract.

It was Anna who sold this house to us two years ago.

I took the pen and took a final look at the house that I once thought would be my forever home. Then, I signed my name. "It doesn't matter if the price is a little lower. Just sell it as soon as possible."

Anna looked at me, hesitant to speak.

I knew what she wanted to ask.

When I accompanied Neil Young to view the house two years ago, I pointed at the empty, unfinished house and excitedly planned everything. Where to put the green plants, which corner to put my bookshelf in...

I was so enthusiastic as I looked forward to the future.

Two years passed. Anna grew from a newcomer in the industry to a top salesperson. However, this place had not become the marital home I had dreamed of. Instead, it was going to be sold.

The turning point came because of a jigsaw puzzle.

Last week, Neil was hospitalized with a fever. I was so busy taking care of him that I exhausted myself to the point of low blood sugar, and my stomach problems flared up again.

I felt dizzy and lost my balance, so I instinctively reached out to grab the cabinet next to me. The jigsaw puzzle that Neil had carefully framed and hidden high up fell down.

The edge of the frame cut a long gash on my arm. Intense pain shot through me, and warm blood splattered onto the glass of the frame.

Neil came running at the sound, but his first reaction was to kneel and check the puzzle with concern. All he had for me was blame and impatience. "Can't you be careful? You've dirtied it! You're unbelievable!"

I was pale with pain and could not speak, but Neil shoved me out of the house.

Clenching my teeth, I took a taxi to the hospital alone and got twenty stitches in my arm.

When I got home, I found the door locked. I knocked, apologized, and pleaded, but the house remained deathly silent.

I sent him a long message explaining, only to receive a bright red exclamation mark in return. He had blocked me.

The early autumn night air was already chilly.

Wearing only thin loungewear, I crouched by the door all night, clutching my stitched arm. I did not get any pity or response from Neil. However, I saw him featured on his junior, Sonia Feathering's, social media.

I only found out then that Neil was not home. He had gone out to dinner with his colleagues.

In the photo, Sonia sat in the center of the group, holding the frame stained with my blood just hours earlier. Her face was beaming.

[Neil painstakingly assembled a group photo of all the Disney characters! I love this gift!]

Neil sat beside her, relaxed with his head slightly tilted toward Sonia. He wore a gentle smile I had not seen in a long time.

Soon, Neil replied below.

[I'm glad you like it.]

Sonia replied with a cute hug emoji.

[I never expected you to remember my off-handed comment. I'm really touched!]

Off-handed comment? Those words were like a poisoned dagger, stabbing deep into my heart.

Last month, on the first day of autumn, Neil surprisingly ordered me a mango shaved ice dessert.

I was so happy, thinking this blockhead had finally come to his senses and realized I liked celebrating special days like those.

Looking back now, the comments I saw online from netizens were indeed a self-fulfilling prophecy.

[When a man suddenly becomes nice to you for no reason, it means he's guilty.]

Her junior's off-handed comment stuck with him.

After five years of dating and two years of marriage, he still could not remember that I was allergic to mangoes.

Since the seven-year itch was inevitable, I supposed I should just let him go.