His Bias, My Leap

Andrea had barely finished apologizing when she deliberately kicked over the trash can. It hit the floor with a loud crash.

I frowned, irritation rising, ready to lash out. Then I saw what had spilled across the floor, and my breath caught.

Inside were the matching shirts I had bought for Quinton and me, our mugs, and a thick photo album. There was also an old digital camera.

Every single item had been ruined on purpose. Some were sliced cleanly in half, while others were smashed beyond repair.

Andrea's eyes flickered with unmistakable satisfaction, but her expression quickly shifted to innocent concern.

"I didn't mean to break those," she said softly. "Quinton told me you were planning to throw them away anyway."

I turned to look at Quinton.

He nodded without hesitation, completely indifferent.

"They're just cheap junk. I told you ages ago to get rid of them. Andrea was helping you clean up. You should be thanking her."

Something clenched painfully in my chest, and a bitter smile crept onto my lips.

He had already forgotten what those things had meant to us.

After graduation, I had turned down offers from major international companies. At Quinton's desperate urging, I stayed and helped him build the company from nothing.

In a big city, people without connections drift like weeds without roots. Back then, all we had was each other.

On our first anniversary after starting the business, I wanted to encourage him. I sold plasma ten times just to afford that cheap digital camera.

I told him we should record everything. That one day, when we finally made it, we could look back and remember how far we had come.

That camera captured summers when we couldn't afford air conditioning, riding the subway all day just to enjoy the cool air, and pretending it was a date.

It recorded New Year's Eve, the two of us hunched over a phone watching a holiday program, sharing an instant mac and cheese while he quietly slipped half his hot dog into my bowl.

Every time he looked at those photos, he cried. He promised again and again that he would make it up to me someday.

But on the day the company went public, I pulled out the camera to take a picture of him cutting the ribbon, only to have him slap it out of my hands, saying it was embarrassing for a vice president to carry something so cheap.

And now, he had let Andrea destroy it.

Even the printed photo albums were treated like trash.

There was one thing he had said that was true.

What we had was already rotten. It really was time to get rid of it and let it go.

Seeing the pain in my eyes, Quinton finally seemed to recall something. He looked away.

"Don't argue with Andrea," he said. "I'll buy you better stuff later."

I shook my head, opened my briefcase, and took out the divorce papers.

"Sign this."

He frowned in irritation.

"We agreed, no business talk at home."

I replied calmly, "It's just a signature. It'll take less than a minute."

Maybe guilt finally got to him. He hesitated, then took the document.

The moment he saw that it was a divorce agreement, his body stiffened, and his fingers trembled.

Andrea leaned over to peek. When she realized what it was, the smile at the corner of her lips spread uncontrollably.

Quinton snapped back to himself and glared at me.

"You want a divorce because Andrea threw out your stuff? No one's perfect, Lisa. You're being unreasonable."

I answered evenly, "I'm not being unreasonable. You can give Andrea a proper status now. Let her do whatever she wants in the company."

Quinton laughed coldly, anger flashing in his eyes. Veins stood out on the back of his hand as he nearly ripped the papers apart.

"I knew it! Your mind is filthy. Andrea is just a junior from school. What's wrong with helping her out? If someone had helped us back then, would our lives have been so miserable?

"Let me make this clear. Don't try to threaten me with divorce. It won't work.

"I was going to go public with you after you came back. I've changed my mind. I'm so disappointed in you!"