The Heartless Astral

After a night locked in the woodshed, they finally let me out.

I returned to my room, craving only a sip of tea to soothe my parched throat. But before I could bring the cup to my lips, the door burst open with a loud kick.

Standing there, furious, was Marcus, the man I had been married to for three years.

"Why won't you come to the front hall and drink the tea Julie prepared for you?" he snapped. "Don't you get it? Juliana is my equal wife now, no less than you! She offered you tea as a sign of respect. Do you really think sulking in your room will keep her out of this household?"

I set down my cup and looked at the man I had once given up being an Astral Maiden to stay with.

Calmly, I said, "Marcus, let's divorce."

His expression twisted into one of disgust. "Are you still angry about the child? That was your own fault. If you hadn't cursed Julie, she wouldn't have fallen ill! You owe her this!"

I placed a hand over my now-flat stomach, the pain in my heart as sharp as a blade.

It was already a near impossibility for a mortal and astral union to conceive a child. With Marcus' frail lineage devoid of vitality, I had endured three years of relentless suffering to carry this single pregnancy.

But the instant my sister accused me of cursing her and insisted my unborn child was her cure, Marcus tore my baby from my womb to save her.

I had done nothing, yet no one believed me.

Ignoring my pain, Marcus grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the front hall. "Divorce? Don't try to threaten me. You're not an Astral Maiden anymore. You'll never return to the Astral Sanctuary, so you'd better get used to living like an ordinary person."

I glanced at him, taking in his proud, confident demeanor. He looked nothing like the bumbling, awkward young man I had first met.

Back then…

His family mocked him, relentlessly bullying him for his perceived stupidity. I pitied him and even used my astral power to teach those wealthy bullies a lesson they would never forget.

When he tried to thank me, he was so tongue-tied that he could only clumsily hand over every piece of jewelry he owned.

"My mother says that if you like someone, you should give them the best things," he mumbled. "I don't know what's best, so I'm giving you everything I have, Miss."

Later, I used a portion of my astral power to grant him the Heart of Astral Clarity, giving him a mind of unparalleled brilliance.

He rose to the top of the national exams, became the country's first scholar, and even petitioned the Emperor for a decree to marry me.

On our wedding night, he swore to the heavens that I would be his one and only wife for this lifetime.

Yet now, Marcus was forcing me to drink tea served by his other wife.

…

The front hall was crowded with guests.

I entered disheveled and weary, drawing murmurs and sidelong glances from the crowd.

Juliana, with her devastating beauty, approached me gracefully, each step a calculated display of charm.

"Sister, please, have some tea," she said sweetly, holding out the cup.

I slapped the cup from her hands.

"Juliana, you had my unborn child killed. From this moment on, any bond between us as sisters is as shattered as that cup," I said coldly

Juliana gasped and stumbled back, hiding in Marcus' arms.

He gritted his teeth, his face dark with anger. "Elara Ashthorn! What nonsense are you spouting in front of all these people? Have you no dignity as the primary wife?"

I looked around at the gathered guests, then let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Marcus Blackwell, I've already told you. I want a divorce. From now on, Juliana is all yours."

His expression hardened. He pushed Juliana aside and stepped toward me, lowering his voice to a threatening growl. "Divorce? And then what? Who would marry you after me? Face it, you're just an ordinary woman now! No one else would want you."

I met his gaze, unflinching. "You're right. I may no longer be an Astral Maiden, but even so, you're unworthy of being my husband. As for who I'll marry in the future, it has nothing to do with you."

His face contorted with anger, the polished charm of a top scholar crumbling.

He let out a mocking laugh. "Our marriage was decreed by the Emperor himself. The only way to divorce is for you to cut your hair.

"You know what that means, don't you? A woman with no hair will never marry again. But I'll give you one last chance. Drink Julie's tea, and I'll pretend none of this ever happened—"

Before he could finish, I pulled a pair of scissors from my sleeve—the same ones I had intended to use to sew clothes for my unborn child.

Without hesitation, I raised them to my hair.

Marcus lunged at me, desperate to stop me, but he was too late. My long, carefully tended hair fell in a clean, sharp line.

"Elara, have you lost your mind?!" he shouted, grabbing me and pulling me into his arms.

"What a hassle… Fine, I'll find someone to make you a wig. Just stop this madness and apologize, so we can pretend none of this ever happened—"

I pushed him away, shaking my now-lighter head with a calm smile. "That won't be necessary. It's just hair. Now, can I have the separation letter?"