I pushed open the door to the private dining room.

A large round table was already covered with an array of dishes, vibrant in color and aroma. Yet, I had absolutely no appetite. Between the ten-hour flight, the four-hour taxi ride, and the torrential downpour, I was physically and mentally drained.

At the table, everyone naturally looked past me. I sat there listening to them reminisce about everything from university pranks to their current research at the institute.

Inevitably, the conversation drifted toward Julian and Seraphina. Even though they kept it somewhat restrained, I could still feel the intensity of the history they shared—a passionate past that I had no part in. I felt like an insignificant outsider, a ghost at the feast.

When the dinner finally ended, Julian took me back to his residence in the UK. It was a studio apartment provided by the institute—bright, clean, and organized with clinical precision.

The only thing that felt out of place with Julian’s cold, low-profile personality was a colorful dreamcatcher hanging in the entryway.

As Julian brought me a pair of new slippers, I noticed another pair sitting nearby. They had clearly been worn, and the pattern on them was a matching couple's set with the ones Julian was wearing.

"I’ve ordered new toiletries online; they’ll be here any minute. Have a seat," Julian said, his voice practical. Then, with a touch of uncharacteristic thoughtfulness, he added, "I noticed you didn't eat much earlier. I'll go make you some noodles."

He was always like this with me—polite but distant. It was a stark contrast to how he treated his colleagues.

Watching Julian’s busy silhouette in the kitchen, I walked over to the entryway and took down the dreamcatcher. On the back, there were two small lines of embroidery:

[May the great Dr. Julian have sweet dreams every day. Love, Seraphina.]

I hung it back up with a blank expression. I didn’t know how to describe the way I felt. Even though I had already decided I didn't want him anymore, seeing these things still brought a surge of uncontrollable heartache. After all, I had loved this man for six years; you don't just flip a switch and turn off those feelings.

The exhaustion of the trip finally caught up with me, and I collapsed onto the living room sofa. Suddenly, Julian’s phone lit up on the coffee table.

Since I was sitting right there, I couldn't help but see the name on the screen:

Seraphina

.

In our five years of marriage, I had never once looked through Julian’s phone. But today, I couldn't stop myself from picking it up.

The message from Seraphina read: "If you had come to find me sooner back then, would the person sitting beside you now be me?"

I watched the notification fade, only to be met by Julian’s lock screen wallpaper. It was a photo of Seraphina from behind—wearing her graduation gown, her hair tied in a simple ponytail.

My husband. My partner of five years. His phone background was his ex-girlfriend.

At that moment, the truth was undeniable: in Julian’s world, I was completely redundant.

The sound of clinking cutlery came from the kitchen. I locked the phone, placed it back on the table, and walked toward the kitchen island as if nothing had happened.

Julian didn't notice anything was wrong. He simply handed me a pair of chopsticks. "Try it. If it’s not good, don't force yourself."

I took the chopsticks without looking at him and asked softly, "Can you tell me what’s going on between you and Seraphina?"

Julian answered calmly, "Seraphina is my ex-girlfriend. We were together for eight years. We were almost married."

"Because our goals didn't align back then—she wanted to build a career abroad, and I wanted to stay home."

He tried to sound casual, but I caught a slight tremor in his usually steady voice. I kept my head down, eating the noodles.

"Is that all?"

Julian fell silent.

That night, we lay in bed, occupying opposite sides with our own separate thoughts. Then, unexpectedly, Julian reached out and took my hand.

Back home, even though we shared a bed, he would pull away every time I tried to touch him. This was the first time he had ever initiated contact.

I thought he was going to explain everything that had happened today. Instead, he said:

"Clara, I’ve decided to make a permanent home here."

My hand went ice-cold in an instant.

A year ago, when Julian first came here, he told me it was only a one-week business trip. Then, week after week passed, and he never returned home. Meanwhile, I stayed back, taking care of his parents, always believing that he would eventually come back to me.

But now, he was unilaterally informing me that he intended to stay here permanently. I knew, without a doubt, that he wasn't staying for me.

Yet, at this moment, I no longer had any desire to make him stay.

"That’s good," I said slowly. "It’s just a pity it rains so often here. You should take care of yourself."

Julian clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily. He tightened his grip on my hand.

"Clara, thank you."

I didn't answer. I simply closed my eyes, having already made the decision in my heart to leave him behind. The truth was, I didn't like this place. I had told Julian before—I hated the rain.

In the dead of night, Julian’s phone vibrated incessantly. I knew it was Seraphina messaging him. After a while, Julian rolled out of bed.

"Seraphina was abused by her ex-husband," he whispered to me, his voice low. "She’s terrified of thunder. I’m going to stay with her for a bit."

As if to reassure me, he added, "I’ll be back soon."

I didn't respond, pretending to be fast asleep. But I knew with absolute certainty that this time, I wouldn't be waiting for his return.

Once Julian was gone, I found myself unable to sleep in this foreign country, in a strange city, on an unfamiliar bed. I sat up, grabbed my charging phone, and booked a flight for 4:00 AM. It was the earliest flight back from the UK.

Then, I got out of bed. After drying the clothes that had been soaked during the day, I changed out of the ill-fitting outfit Julian had bought me. I folded the expensive clothes neatly and left them on the sofa.

There was an hour and a half left before departure. I looked around the room where I had spent less than four hours and pulled a small, exquisite box from my backpack.

Inside was an Audemars Piguet Royal Oak, worth about $35,000. Over our five years of marriage, I had saved every penny and dipped into my long-term savings just to afford this watch. It was meant to be his fifth-anniversary gift, but now, I was using it to put a final period on this ridiculous marriage.

I took a piece of paper and wrote:

[Julian, this is the last gift I will ever give you. Goodbye forever.]

I placed the note next to the watch and shouldered my backpack, which felt surprisingly light. The door clicked shut behind me as I walked away. I didn't look back.

Taxis were hard to find in the early morning, and I reached Edinburgh Airport with only twenty minutes until boarding. Unlike the frantic girl who had landed just hours ago, I was calm. I checked in and boarded the plane with methodical precision.

I had originally thought I would be returning home with Julian. I never imagined that just as I had arrived alone, I would be leaving alone.

Before the plane took off, I sent Julian a voice message in Spanish:

"Dr. Julian, you could have been honest with me. There was no need to keep your heart hidden for five years. I know the person you truly love is Seraphina, and I saw the message she sent you."

"I know you decided to stay in the UK for her, and I know your lock screen is a photo of her from graduation day."

"You should have told me sooner. That way, I wouldn't have wasted five years of your life."

"Come back home when you have time. We’ll head to the Family Court."

I pressed send.