The Ex-Husband's Grand Return

Six years since the divorce, I thought Gianna Eurich had already faded completely out of my life.

That afternoon, the sunlight was especially bright, and I was holding the picture book my daughter, Eva, wanted.

She said this morning, Dad's going to buy me a mango cake just like the one in the picture book.

When we got to the cake shop on the corner, the clerk smiled and greeted us. I pointed to the top shelf of the glass display case: "Could I get two pieces of mango mousse cake, the ones with the little cherries on top?"

That was the cake Eva had specifically asked for yesterday.

Just as I pulled up the payment code on my phone, a hand suddenly reached over the counter.

The hand was painted with dusty rose nail polish, the edges of the nails rimmed with tiny rhinestones, and a beige designer bag hung from the wrist.

"Let me pay, Simon." Gianna's voice drifted over from beside me, with a deliberately soft tone.

"You're a professor now it's a respectable title, but it's not exactly?lucrative. Let me get this."

I paused for a moment, then looked up and finally saw her clearly.

She had big, wavy curls permed, the ends dyed light brown, a bit heavier than six years ago, and Everything about her screamed, "Look how well I'm doing!"

"No need," I pushed my phone back toward the register, trying to keep my voice calm. "Let's just pay separately. Don't need to make things complicated."

But she reached out and pressed the back of my hand, while her other hand already scanned the payment code: "Why be so formal with me? You used to buy me strawberry cake all the time, now I'm treating you to mangoconsider it me returning the favor."

Right after the payment beeped, she grabbed the cake bag from the clerk and smiled: "Your birthday's on the fifteenth next month, right? I remember you used to love mango the mostthink of these two pieces as an early celebration."

I didn't reply; my eyes landed on the jade bracelet on her wrist. The color was flawless, obviously something valuable.

Glancing down again at my black coat, the cuffs were all pilledit was the one Trista bought me three years ago.

Back then, she said, "It's dirt-proof and comfy, just right for your classes."

"You've had this coat for years, haven't you?" She quickly zeroed in on my clothes, a hint of pity flashing in her eyes.

"Been tight on cash lately? If it's rent or you're thinking about switching jobs, just say the word. I can pull some strings for you."

"No need," I took the cake bag from her, stepped back to keep my distance, "I'm heading to pick up Eva from kindergartengotta run."

"Eva? Is that your... kid?" She froze for a moment, surprise in her voice, still wanting to press for more.

I didn't say a word, just turned and headed for the door.

Her voice came from behind me: "Simon, mind if I add you on Instagram? It'll be easier to stay in touch!"

I didn't look back, pushed the glass door open, and stepped out of the shop.

I'd only taken a few steps when I heard someone call Gianna's name from behind.

I turned around to see Ivan running over, his arm casually draped around Gianna's waist, flashing me a nod and a raised chin: "Well, isn't this Dr. Smith? What a coincidencehow about grabbing a meal together?"

Ivan Chandlerthe guy I backed through three years of povertyis now Gianna's husband.

Gianna smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I actually wanted to chat with you too, so let's go together."

I wanted to say no, but Ivan was already pulling Gianna ahead, deliberately slowing his pace to wait for me.

On the way, Ivan pulled Gianna into his arms, then looked back at me and said, "Dr. Smith, look at us nowliving in a huge penthouse, driving a fancy car, living the good life. What about you? Still all alone?"

I caught the challenge burning in his eyes and replied coolly, "Pretty good. By the way, remember six years ago in my study, you were holding Gianna just like that, weren't you?

The moment those words dropped, the two in front froze, and even the air seemed to stiffen.

Gianna's face went pale as she tugged on Ivan's arm, "Let's just drop it and go eat."

Ivan just laughed, "That's all in the past, why bring it up now? There's a fireworks shop just ahead, Gianna, let's buy some fireworks and I'll light them for you tonight."

He grabbed Gianna's hand and walked into the fireworks shop, while I just stood at the door, frozen.

Not long after, Ivan came out holding a box of fireworks. He made sure I saw it: "Simon, you remember this, right? Gianna used to buy these for you too, didn't she?"

"But this time, what I got looks way better than what you had back then."

Six years ago, on my birthday, Gianna bought these fireworks and set them off downstairs at my place, saying it was her way of showing me how she felt.

On the way back, Ivan and Gianna were chatting and laughing up ahead, and I followed behind, stuck replaying scenes from six years ago in my head.

That day, I came home early from school, hoping to surprise Gianna.

I pushed open the door; no one was in the living room, but the study door was closed, and I could faintly hear voices inside.

I walked over, about to knock, when I spotted a book Gianna had left on the corner of the desk, a photo tucked between its pages.

I pulled it outthe photo showed Gianna and Ivan, in our bedroom, holding each other, their smiles painfully bright.

My blood turned cold all over, and I stormed inside, pushing the door open.

In the study, Gianna was sitting on Ivan's lap, his hand resting on her waist.

"What are you guys doing?" My voice shook, nearly breaking into a hysterical shout.

Gianna jumped off Ivan's lap, terrified, but quickly placed herself in front of him: "Simon, don't get so worked up, we..."

I pointed at them, tears streaming down uncontrollably, "Gianna, I've been with you for ten years, from college till now, haven't I been good to you?"

"Ivan, I paid for your schooling, provided for you, treated you like a little brotherthis is how you repay me?"

Ivan hung his head silently, but Gianna frowned: "Simon, it's not what you think. Please go outside first, we'll talk this through."

"Going out?" I laughed, "This is my home, so why should I leave? The ones who should leave are you!"

Gianna's face darkened. "Simon, stop messing around and get out now, or I won't hold back."

The words "Get out" stabbed into my heart like a knife.

I looked at the two people I trusted most and felt an icy chill wash over me.

Ever since I caught them in the study, wrapped up in each other, my life has been completely ruined.

Every day after work, I carried my old camera, trailing behind them like a restless ghost.

Watching them walk into the usual western restaurant, Ivan cut Gianna's steak, his voice low but clear enough to reach my ears: "Gianna, this black pepper sauce tastes better than Simon's, right?"

Gianna smiled and nodded, feeding a piece to Ivan first.

I hid behind a column outside the restaurant, pressing the shutter, my fingers trembling so badly I almost dropped the camera.

They went to the cinema to watch a romance; Ivan's hand stayed on Gianna's waist the whole time, and when it ended, he was still holding her shoulder, saying, "Next time we'll watch a horror flickif you're scared, just hide in my arms."

They went to the hotel to get a room. I stood at the hotel entrance all night. At dawn, I saw them walk out hand in hand, Gianna still had a red mark on her neck.

I developed a stack of photos I'd taken, each one marked on the back with a permanent marker: "Cheaters Gianna Eurich and Ivan Chandler."

Since the school was empty early in the morning, I plastered those photos all over the bulletin boards, even stuck a few up on the teaching building's corridor walls.

Students gathered around, whispering and snapping pictures with their phones. I hid behind a camphor tree, watching, feeling both pain and satisfaction.

It wasn't long before Gianna blocked me in the hallway of the school office building.

She was clutching a torn-up photo and slapped me without warning.

The sharp "smack" left my face numb instantly, and the corner of my mouth split open.

"Simon, are you crazy? Can't you stand to see me happy?" She glared at me, her eyes red but not a hint of guilt in sight.

I covered my face and stared at her.?"Can't stand to see you happy? You're the ones who wronged me first! Did you forget the ten years we shared? Has Ivan Chandler forgotten the three years I funded him?"

"Ten years? Your Fund?" She sneered and slapped the photo against my face. "Simon, don't try to trap me with thisI really love Ivan!"

After that, she just changed the locks on the front door.

She took my ID, bank cards, and keys, saying, "Stay home and think it over. Don't go out and make a fool of yourself."

I sat on the living room sofa, staring at the wedding photo hanging on the wall.

In the photo, I'm holding Gianna, her smile soft and bright. But now, looking back, those smiles stab like needles in my eyes.

I remembered how she used to say, "Simon, we're going to live here forever," and now she's locked me inside this place that used to be called "home."

I pulled the blade out of the razor and cut my left arm.

Blood slowly oozed out, dripping onto the sofa, and that suffocating ache in my chest felt a bit lighter.

When Gianna came back and saw the cut on my arm, she frowned, showing not a shred of pity: "Don't try to win sympathy that way. I'm not falling for it."

One night, while she was sound asleep in the bedroom, I rifled through the drawer and found the sleeping pills.

I poured out all the pills and swallowed them without water.

My throat was bitter and rough. I lay on the sofa, thinking that way I wouldn't have to think about them anymore, wouldn't have to feel the pain anymore.

But when I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed, an IV needle stuck in the back of my hand.

Gianna sat by the bed, holding an empty pill bottle, her voice still cold: "Simon, don't play these self-pity games. I'm not gonna pity you. If you wanna die, just don't die in front of methat's bad luck."

I watched the medicine drip, drop by drop, through the IV tube, and suddenly, I laughed.

I was laughing, but then tears started fallingnot from pain, but because my heart had completely gone cold.

So this is what it feels like when someone's heart dieswhen even crying feels pointless.

Not long after, Gianna slammed the divorce agreement down on the coffee table in front of me.

The agreement said the house was hers, the savings split in half, and between the lines, you could sense her impatience.

"Sign it. Let's part ways cleanlyno more dragging each other down." She stood across from me, so calm it was like she was talking about someone else's business.

I grabbed the pen and carefully signed "Simon Smith," then threw it on the table like I was tossing away ten years of memories.

The day we walked out of the Divorce Center, the sky was dull and heavy.

Gianna walked ahead with Ivan, his arm wrapped around her waist. He looked back at me and said, "Simon, from now on, Gianna's mine to look after. Don't worry."

Gianna didn't glance back. She chatted with Ivan, laughing happily.

I stood frozen, watching their figures fade around the corner.

Quietly, I told myself: Simon Smith, never let them hurt you like this again. Never.