Goodbye, Saintess.

"Captain Holst?"

"Grimwald, bad news. A forest wildfire broke out in the mountains to the west. Three teams have already died on duty, and the situation shows no sign of improving. We're next."

My nerves tightened. Suddenly, my personal matters slipped from my mind. I had to be there for the team immediately.

"I'm ready for duty, sir!"

If the wildfire spiraled out of control, countless innocent lives would be at risk. Compared to that, my personal drama was laughably trivial.

"Not yet, Grimwald. You don't fully understand what we're facing. I want you to spend today with your family," Albert said. "Especially your wife. If I remember correctly, you're married, right?"

I stopped in my tracks. A heavy weight settled over me.

Everyone at the station knew I was married, but Hera had never appeared in person. She always refused to attend social events, even when others brought their families. I was certain my captain and teammates had nearly forgotten she existed.

"I understand, Captain Holst."

The call ended, and I sighed.

I had been Hera's husband for five years. Of course, I could predict her reaction or lack of one. Why would the Saintess care about the dangers I faced? Life was fleeting to the Awakened.

Even after warning her about the risks of my missions, the most she had ever offered was a scripted "take care," delivered without sincerity. I had grown so used to her apathy that I stopped burdening her with my work.

But this time, it could really be the end for me. Even if Hera showed no warmth or concern, I still had a duty to inform her.

When I finally returned home, I discovered a side of her I had never seen before. She was dressed to the nines—stunningly beautiful—and ready to leave in her car.

I approached her from the window. "Hey, I've got something I need to tell you."

She dismissed me. "Tell me after I return. I've got an emergency event to attend."

I frowned but did not back away. People suffering from that wildfire needed help immediately. I had to tell her now.

I wonder what kind of an "emergency event" it could be. Hera only ever went out for two reasons: work or a visit to an Awakenist monastery.

Then I noticed the passenger side. Edmund sat there, breaking Hera's silence. "Mr. Grimwald, I apologize. There's an afternoon tea party at my company today. She's my companion."

He turned to her. "Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should go alone."

"No. He never has anything important. I can't say the same for you," she replied placidly. She then started the engine and drove away.

For a while, I did not move. It was as if my entire body had turned to stone. I certainly felt my heart weighing down on my chest.

Hera had declined so many of my social events for years. Yet when Edmund asked, she accepted immediately and dressed for the occasion.

I could not even ignore the fact that the event wouldn't even start until the afternoon, yet they were leaving early in the morning.

"An Awakenist would not lie, you said. And yet you had to be lying. You treat Edmund like he is your husband. Why else would you agree to be his companion? What, is your attendance somehow benefiting Bobby's wellbeing too?" I muttered bitterly.

There was no reason for me to stay here any longer. This house used to mean something to me, but now, it was just an eyesore. Every step I took to leave here felt like crushing every precious memory I shared with her under my foot.

…

In the evening, Hera suddenly sent me a text.

Hera: [I'm free. We can have dinner. You can tell me about whatever you wanted to say.]

It read as though the Saintess was generously granting me an audience out of pity.

I hesitated but decided to seize the opportunity. After all, we could discuss the divorce. If I were to perish in the fire, I would want to leave the world without any regret or lingering attachment.

I reserved a table at the restaurant where we had our first date. I told her to come alone.

This was our beginning. It should also be our end.

The restaurant's interior remained remarkably unchanged. The same wind chime still hung over the window.

If only we hadn't changed, too.

She never responded. I waited until after nine at night, when the restaurant was about to close.

I should have known. The Saintess felt nothing for me. I did not even feel bitter. Her indifference was as unyielding as the laws of nature.

Just as I was about to leave, Hera arrived—with Edmund and Bobby.

I frowned. This was meant to be the end of our relationship. I had asked for privacy and no witnesses. She clearly did not care.

"I came straight from work. Edmund and Bobby haven't eaten yet. What's wrong with them tagging along?" she demanded.

Before I could protest, the man and his son took their seats across the table. Hera ignored the empty spot beside me and squeezed in on their side.

"Edmund said he'll cover the bill. He feels sorry for everything that's happened," she stated. "Honestly, Sebastian, you should learn from him. Be a little more generous and big-hearted."

She sounded so nonchalant, as if she hadn't just sunk another knife into my chest. I held my tongue only because this was going to be our last dinner.

I had planned to say goodbye, but Edward and Bobby's presence made it impossible. I wondered if Hera would regret bringing them along if she knew this was truly the end.

Then again, maybe it no longer mattered. She had wasted this chance and showed little remorse. The Saintess had become so distant and cold that I could no longer imagine her warmth.

"Mr. Grimwald, please help yourself to anything you like! Dinner's on me!" Edmund said cheerfully. "Ira has been very kind. I'm also thrilled you've agreed to adopt Bobby. Thank you so much!"

He raised his glass to my direction, but I stared at him without moving.

He froze in embarrassment. That's when Hera said softly, "Don't waste your good spirit on him. He's not as big-hearted or friendly as you are."

She clinked her glass against Edmund's, casually dismissing me in the process. Then she called out sweetly, "Bobby, cheers!"

They toasted and laughed, already deep in conversation about decorating Bobby's room and what colors he liked.

At that moment, I felt like a stranger sharing the same table. A realization struck me, and I asked, "Was it you who wanted to have dinner with me? Or was it him?"

"Of course it was him. He wanted to apologize for your hurt feelings," she replied, annoyed. "I wouldn't have had the time."

If I had any hope that she cared about me, it died at that moment. As it turned out, what was supposed to be our last goodbye was a suggestion on Edmund's part. The Saintess herself would not have cared.

It pained me. But at the same time, it gave me the push to say what I wanted to say.

"My captain called. There's a wildfire in the west, and they need me to help contain it. It's dangerous. I may not make it back," I said. "I think we should get a divorce. That way, you'll be free of me. You can all be together."

A sense of relief overcame me, but it faded quickly. As time passed, fresh waves of pain crashed in. No one had listened. Not a single person met my gaze. They laughed, chatted, and told jokes. They simply did not care.

I raised my voice. "Hera Bishop, did you hear what I said?!"

She sliced a piece of steak and set it on Bobby's plate. "Oh? Yeah. Take care."

I laughed. How the hell had our relationship managed to last this long like this?

Fine. She was disinterested. I had no reason to be here anymore.

Just as I stood to leave, the hanging light above me broke loose, swung down, and smashed into my head. Glass shattered. Blood poured down my face—hot, thick, and sticky. I could feel every eye in the restaurant lock onto me.

"Sebastian!" Hera shot to her feet and rushed toward me.