Chapter 213
"Divorce," I cut her off, my voice steady, almost eerily calm.
The staff member's smile froze instantly. She looked at me awkwardly, then glanced at George behind me who showed no expression at all, and quickly corrected herself, "Alright, divorce registration is also handled at that counter. You'll also need to take a photo together first."
Still need to take a photo? A sense of bitter, almost absurd disgust rose in my chest.
Taking photos at marriage is for memories, but what's the point of taking photos at divorce like this? To commemorate this failed marriage? To preserve the ruins of something that had already fallen apart?
I said coldly, "No need for photos."
The staff member said with difficulty, "Ma'am, according to regulations, we need to submit a recent photo of both parties together..."
I didn't let her finish. I pulled out an old envelope from my bag and drew out a photo. It was the marriage certificate photo George and I had taken here six years ago.
In the photo, I was smiling sweetly, leaning against him, and though he wasn't smiling much, his eyes looked quiet, almost gentle in a way I barely recognized now.
"Use this one," I handed over the photo, my voice emotionless, "Let it end where it started."
The staff member took the photo, clearly stunned. She looked at George helplessly, as if seeking his opinion.
George's gaze fell on that old photo and lingered for a moment. The edges of the photo had already yellowed slightly, as if gently touched by time. He looked up at me, his lips moving slightly, "We should take a new one."
"No need," I refused firmly, turning to the staff member, "This one is enough. Can we start the process now? I'm short on time."
Seeing my determined attitude, George said nothing more, just pressed his lips together almost imperceptibly. The staff member had no choice but to lead us to the divorce registration window to sit down, handing us forms and agreements.
I took out the divorce agreement I had already signed and stamped, and handed it over with my documents.
George also silently took out his copy. We filled out the forms in silence, checking each line and detail.
Throughout the entire process, we barely exchanged any words, only the rustling sound of pen on paper and the occasional low questions from the staff member.
I knew the current marriage law had a 30-day cooling-off period.
When the staff member routinely informed us, I asked directly, "If both parties confirm their clear intention to divorce and the agreement terms are clear with no disputes, can this cooling-off period be waived or shortened?"
The staff member shook her head and answered matter-of-factly, "Ma'am, I'm sorry, the 30-day cooling-off period is mandatory, intended to let both parties think carefully. It cannot be waived. After 30 days, both of you need to come together again to confirm the divorce before you can receive the divorce certificate."
My heart sank slightly, and my expression grew colder. Still have to wait another 30 days, still have to see George one more time. Who knows if there would be more complications in the meantime? But those were the rules, and I couldn't change them.
Without further hesitation, I signed my name clearly where needed. The handwriting was steady, each stroke firm and even, as if trying to sever all the ties of these six years with one stroke.
George also finished signing quickly.
When he put down the pen, his gaze seemed to linger in my direction for a brief moment, his eyes faintly conflicted, as if he had something to say.
I didn't want to hear George speak. But my mind uncontrollably flashed back to what Milly had said in her daze yesterday.
"Daddy was holding me, and the car was going really fast..."
The cold words on the tip of my tongue, I swallowed them back down.
I stood there silently, waiting for him to speak. Only the faint sound of the staff member organizing papers filled the quiet room.
George finished signing the last name, put down the pen, and indeed looked up at me. His gaze fell on my face, his voice still in that flat tone, "I'll come see Milly when I have time."
This sentence sounded like an announcement, not a discussion. The softening in my heart that Milly's words had stirred instantly froze.
And after seeing her? Continue to let people like Sarah have opportunities to approach and hurt my daughter?
"We'll see when the time comes," I heard my own voice respond coldly, cutting off all of George's possible follow-ups.
In the end, I still couldn't let him easily get close to Milly again. One moment of weakness could cost us everything. By then, all the documents had already been processed.
The staff member collected the materials and informed us to come back after the 30-day cooling-off period to receive the divorce certificate.
Holding my receipt and copy of the documents, the string that had been taut in my heart for too long finally loosened. A floating sensation mixed with exhaustion and relief surged up, making my legs feel weak.
Without looking at George again, I turned and walked toward the exit of the hall. My steps were much lighter than when I arrived, wanting only to leave this place as quickly as possible.
Just a few steps out, urgent footsteps suddenly came from behind. The next second, my wrist was grabbed from behind. The touch was cold, with considerable force.
I was startled and instinctively shook my hand hard to break free, while turning around sharply and demanding, "What are you doing?"
George stood one step behind me. He probably hadn't expected my reaction to be so intense. His hand was still half-raised, his face expressionless, only those unfathomably deep eyes looking at me, saying flatly, "Nothing, I just saw your shoulders shaking and thought you were crying."
Crying?
I was stunned for a moment, then almost laughed in anger.
"I'm too happy to cry. Why would I cry?" I raised the corners of my mouth in an undisguised mocking smile, "George, we're divorced, and now you're coming to care if I'm crying? Are you sick?"
Probably never having been mocked so sharply by me before, George's brows furrowed slightly, but that tiny ripple quickly returned to a pond-like calm.
He didn't refute or explain, just looked at me deeply with an indecipherable expression.Then he walked past me toward the door. His footsteps gradually faded away.
I stood there, watching his figure disappear into the sunlight at the entrance of the civil affairs bureau, feeling only absurd and ridiculous.
What was that just now?
Afraid I'd have an emotional breakdown and make a scene at the bureau, affecting his reputation? Or now that the divorce was done, finally free of the burden of being a husband, so he grudgingly offered a bit of belated fake concern?
George truly was a businessman. Calculating interests and weighing gains and losses had become instinct.
Even at this moment of divorce, he didn't forget to assess potential risks and ensure his reputation remained intact. He truly wouldn't take any loss at all.
I tugged at the corner of my mouth and stepped outside. It was over, all over.
"Ma'am, please wait!" A call from the staff member suddenly came from behind.
I stopped and turned around.
The female staff member jogged over, holding something small that gleamed with a dark silver luster. "This was left behind by that gentleman just now. I saw you two were together, could you please pass it to him?"
I lowered my gaze. Lying in her palm was a cufflink. Simple square shape, edges inlaid with a circle of extremely fine dark blue enamel, center of matte metal texture, understated yet undeniably exquisite.
My chest tightened unexpectedly. I recognized this cufflink. It was from the first year of our marriage, before his birthday, when I had spent a long time shopping to find it.
I had fallen for it at first sight, thinking the calm blue color and matte texture matched his cool temperament perfectly. The price was steep, costing almost all my savings at the time.
But after I bought it back, he only glanced at it, said a flat "thank you," and put it deep in his jewelry box.
In all the occasions afterward, I never saw him wear it. Over time, I had forgotten about this cufflink's existence. I never expected that years later, on the day of our divorce, I would see it again in this way.
I looked at the cufflink, and under the staff member's slightly puzzled gaze, slowly revealed a calm, emotionless smile, "He doesn't want it. Throw it away."
The staff member was clearly stunned, looking at the cufflink, then at me, seemingly unable to understand how a couple who had just divorced couldn't even tolerate an old item.
I didn't explain further and turned to leave.
Getting into my car, I closed the door.
I took out my phone and sent Emily a brief message: [The paperwork is done.]
Almost the second the message was sent, Emily's call came through, her voice full of undisguised excitement, "Really? That's great, Grace, congratulations on your new life! I'm ordering fireworks right now! We must celebrate tonight!"
Hearing her voice, my face finally showed a relaxed smile. "Keep it low-key," I said with a smile, starting the car, "I'm coming over now."
Emily's house was in the villa district in the east of the city. On the way, I got a call from her saying Milly had a bit of a stomachache after her nap and seemed listless. My heart tightened immediately, and I asked her to take Milly to the nearby private hospital first.
Emily agreed without hesitation.