I Exit to Her Serenade to Him

Serena Jacobs and I have been entangled with each other for ten years. We thrive in humiliating each other.

If she bids for the highlighted item in an auction for her male assistant, then I shall spam gifts for a female influencer on her livestream.

If she thrashes my Maserati, I'll just throw away her Louis Vuitton bag.

We've filed for a divorce multiple times. All of our friends keep telling us to just get a divorce, and yet we've never truly severed our ties in the end.

But after Serena sings a happy birthday song for her assistant, I draft a divorce agreement right away.

This leaves Serena feeling confused.

"All this over a birthday song?"

I nod calmly. "Yup. All this over a birthday song indeed."

Serena Jacobs stared at me for a long moment, as if she was trying to determine whether I meant what I had just said.

I glanced at my watch. "Sign it. If we hurry, the courthouse will still be open, and we can get everything done today."

As we walked out of the courthouse, Serena still looked dazed, as though she couldn't quite believe it.

After ten years of tormenting each other, something she had exhausted every scheme to achieve had finally come true.

She checked the certificate over and over to make sure it was real. Then, she looked up at me, her tone complicated. "We split the assets fifty-fifty. As for the house… I remember you liked it, so you can keep it."

I shook my head, my voice calm. "There's no need."

I was about to die and would soon be reduced to ashes, scattered by the wind. I had no use for a house.

When I went home to pack, I happened to run into Casper Hughes, who had come looking for Serena.

As the boy toy she kept on the side, Casper was the only one who had managed to last more than three months without being discarded.

When he saw the luggage in my hands, smugness flickered in his eyes, though his expression remained neutral.

"Myles, let me help you."

Before I could respond, he reached for my luggage, then suddenly cried out in pain.

"Myles, I was just trying to help you carry your suitcase. You didn't have to hit me with it," he said, his voice full of grievance.

In the past, I would've punched him without hesitation and mocked Serena's taste in men, wondering how she could stomach someone like him.

Now, I couldn't be bothered to argue.

"I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

I must have apologized too quickly, because even Casper, who prided himself on his acting skills, froze.

I turned to leave, but Serena suddenly grabbed my hand.

I didn't react in time, and the luggage in my hand fell to the floor.

The photo frame shattered, glass scattering everywhere. A crack ran straight through our photo, splitting it apart.

It had been taken when we first got together.

Over the years, everything else in the house that could be smashed had all been destroyed, yet we had both tacitly avoided this photo.

Alas, what couldn't be held onto was never meant to last.

Serena instinctively bent down to pick up the photo, but I beat her to it. I crushed it into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

She froze.

Casper spoke up at just the right moment, sounding pitiful. "Serena, I think my finger got hurt by the suitcase."

Serena snapped out of it and hurriedly led Casper away.

News of the divorce quickly reached my parents.

Serena called, demanding an explanation.

"I knew you were up to no good." She let out a cold laugh. "You just wanted to drag your parents into this so they'd force me to break up with Casper, didn't you? You've pulled the same trick so many times. Aren't you sick of it?"

My voice stayed calm, without a trace of the grievance she accused me of. "Are you done? If you are, I'm hanging up."

"Myles Spencer, you wouldn't dare—"

The line went dead. I looked at the phone screen.

It showed Casper's latest Instagram post.

In the photo, two hands were intertwined, fingers tightly locked together, a diamond ring gleaming under the light. The caption read, "I can finally stand by your side."

I casually liked it and gave them my blessing.

Less than a minute later, a friend messaged me. "Myles, is this for real?"

It wasn't surprising that they didn't believe it.

Ever since Serena mistakenly thought I was involved with Yvette Larsen, we had become the most infamous and hostile couple in our circle.

She started frequenting nightclubs and getting linked to more than one male celebrity.

Similarly, I refused to fall behind, spending nights surrounded by ten hostesses at a time, living just as recklessly.

Our fights escalated, and our threats turned vicious. Yet divorce had never truly been on the table.

This time, however, it was real.

"Yeah," I replied before slipping my phone back into my pocket.