Chapter 210
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She had barely managed to pull herself out.
She scrolled up through his messages–so many, all sent tonight.
She didn’t even want to look anymore and just replied: “Cedrick, I’ve said all I need to say. If you’re not agreeing to divorce, stop messaging me from now on. I won’t read them anyway.”
After sending that, Cedrick immediately replied: “Using divorce to threaten me?”
“Do you think I’m someone afraid of divorcing you?”
She really wasn’t threatening him; she was sick of saying this!
“Cedrick, the divorce papers are at home. I’m sure you’ve seen them. If you’re not afraid of divorce, let’s just get it over with. We’ll handle the formalities when I get back.”
“Okay.”
After he sent that word, Lucille sighed in relief. Fine, as long as he agreed.
However, after sending “okay,” he followed up with two photos: one of him and Maricela at a seaside villa, and an- other in the house where she and Cedrick lived for five years, with him and Maricela sitting at the dining table. If Lu- cille guessed right, those dishes on the table were just made by Cedrick.
“Lucille, I don’t think I’m that bad; it’s not like no one wants me.”
Lucille sent a nodding emoji and added: “Wish you happiness.”
Then she stopped looking at him and went back to scrolling through Instagram.
In the past, she was insecure and sensitive, confining herself to a small circle and hardly ever looked at Instagram. But lately, she’d found joy in it.
She loved seeing the little details of others‘ lives–their meals, sunsets and sunrises. That everyday vitality was the plain yet vivid color of human existence, and it warmed her.
But unexpectedly, she came across Cedrick on Instagram.
She’d known him for twelve years and had only seen him post twice on Instagram.
Once was last time, with a handshake of a large diamond ring and a silver ring.
The other time was now, when he posted a photo grid with Maricela: “It’s destined that someone will accompany me for life. Thank you for coming back to me.”
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Lucille actually wanted to remind him: “If you marry Maricela, you’ll be broke.”
But she held back. Forget it; it’s not worth arguing with trash.
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She swiped past that Instagram post, just like her life had briefly intersected with Cedrick’s and ultimately just passed by.
Cedrick’s high–profile Instagram post didn’t cause a stir, and no one sent her a screenshot–that was inevitable.
Her mutual friends with Cedrick were just high school classmates and Harlan’s group.
Harlan and those guys were already blocked by her, so she couldn’t see what they said. As for the high school class- mates, since she wasn’t in the photo, who’d be so tactless to comment? Like asking: “Cedrick, why’d you change wives?”
And no one would send her a screenshot either.
Behind the scenes, they’d probably just gossip in their little groups.
After all, she wasn’t the one making a fool of herself–whatever whispers flew around couldn’t touch her.
The official performance was set for the next day.
She’d spent the entire day buried in backstage work and logistics. When the dancers took their final bows to tidal waves of applause, pride surged through her–she was part of this.
She wanted to be back on that stage.
That thought brought the rehabilitation plan to mind. So after the curtain fell and everyone left, she went to the re- hearsal studio alone.
But truth be told, the rehearsal hall was just a dance practice space–not ideal for rehabilitation. The biggest issue was the lack of proper equipment.
Lucille studied the rehab videos, racking her brain to adapt each movement for her current condition and this makeshift setting.