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After everything was settled, I filed for divorce. Since she was the one who wanted it, I was certainly going to oblige.
I brought the divorce papers to the detention center to see Emily. She was thrilled to see me. "Honey, I knew you'd come to get me out."
"You know I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I just wanted to give your mom a scare."
"I've been punished enough now, haven't I? Can I come home?"
I ignored her and tossed the divorce agreement right in front of her.
The moment Emily saw the words "Divorce Agreement," she panicked.
She grabbed my hand, almost dropping to her knees. "Honey, I don't want a divorce. You promised you'd always love me. How can you do this?"
I almost laughed out loud. She was pregnant with another man's child, and she was asking me how I could divorce her?
When my gaze fell on her stomach, Emily understood immediately.
"Honey, I can get an abortion. I'll get one, I promise. Please don't leave me. I know I was wrong, I truly know I was wrong."
I looked at her and said, word by word, "You know now? It's too late."
Emily was sentenced to three years and four months in prison. Jacob was sentenced to two years and five months.
Because Emily was pregnant, she avoided jail time and received a suspended sentence, to be served under supervised release.
Seeing that I was determined to divorce her, she didn't dare get an abortion, afraid of losing her chance altogether and ending up with nothing.
I filed for divorce on the grounds that Emily and her lover had conspired to murder my mother.
I expected a long, drawn-out battle, but the court granted the divorce at the very first hearing.
The car and the apartment were my pre-marital assets; Emily had no claim to any of it.
Our marital assets were split right down the middle.
After I left my job, I had started a business. It was currently operating at a loss, with about a hundred thousand dollars in debt.
Not only did Emily have to give me half of her savings, she also inherited half of my debt.
Hearing the court's verdict, Emily jumped up from her seat, screaming that I was less than a man.
Fine. So be it. Better that than being a cuckold.
By the day we finalized the divorce, Emily's belly was already very large.
She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Daniel, do we really have to end like this?"
I nodded. "I have no choice. Not when you're carrying another man's child and plotted with your lover to kill my mom."
Emily said, somewhat pitifully, "You know that's not how it was. I just wanted to scare your mom."
"Nothing we say now matters anymore."
After the divorce with Emily was finalized, I sold the apartment and poured myself entirely into my business.
With my full focus on the company, it took off in less than two years.
I bought a new two-thousand-square-foot apartment and brought my parents to live with me.
I had never told my parents about the divorce. Partly because I was worried they couldn't handle the shock, and partly because, coming from a traditional background, divorce still carries a stigma for their generation.
When my parents heard I wanted them to move into the city, they were so excited they couldn't sleep all night. My mom even asked me, "Will Emily really be okay with us living with you?"
I felt a sudden pang of sadness. Ever since Emily and I got married, my contact with my parents had dwindled.
All because Emily never liked them.
The night my parents arrived, I booked a table at a five-star hotel for dinner. Over the meal, I slowly told them about everything that had happened over the past two years.
Of course, I didn't mention Emily's affair or the plot to kill my mom.
I just said that my startup had been losing a lot of money, Emily didn't want to stick around through the hard times, so we divorced.
No messy fights. It was a peaceful split.
My parents didn't exactly approve, but they accepted my explanation.
Another two years passed, and the company stabilized. I had essentially achieved financial freedom.
I never remarried. In my free time, I traveled with my parents.
I bought an RV. With my parents onboard, we drove wherever the road took us, making every place our destination.
Once, while waiting at a red light, a woman carrying a child on her back suddenly appeared. She held a rag and sheepishly offered to clean my windshield.
Staring at her familiar-yet-unfamiliar face, I was stunned.
I rolled down the window to make sure I wasn't seeing things. The moment she saw me in the driver's seat, she froze too.
"Emily? I can't believe it's really you!"
"You—you've got the wrong person!" Emily turned away, flustered, and hurried off.
Seeing her dressed even more plainly than my mom, with a little girl around three or four years old on her back—the girl clutching a lollipop and wearing faded, dark clothes—I felt a complicated mix of emotions.
She had gone through with having Jacob's child after all. Doing the math, Jacob must have been out of prison by then.
Living under the same roof with the man indirectly responsible for her own mother's death—could she really sleep at night without nightmares?
I didn't know, and I didn't want to know.
All I knew was that I was happy now.
And in the future, I will keep living happily—
I have the best parents in the world.
