Blood and Aurora

Three years after our divorce, I ran into Cole Allen again on the streets of Atlantica. I was there as a volunteer, handing out boxes of cold medicine, and he had become a homeless man, struggling to survive.

It was ironic because our divorce had all started because of a box of cold medicine.

“Two times a day. Two pills each time.”

I handed the medicine to him, my tone calm, like I was speaking to a stranger. However, Cole’s eyes slowly turned red.

“Sadie, you still hate me.”

I didn’t look up. I kept passing out boxes of medicine to the people in line.

“This box of medicine only costs one dollar. It’s very cheap, yet you forced me to sell my blood for money. Cole, how could I not hate you for that?”

I said the word hate as casually as if it meant nothing.

Behind me, Cole Allen went completely still, and after that, he didn’t say another word. A long while passed, and I heard footsteps slowly fading away. When I finally turned around, Cole’s thin figure had disappeared into Sunnytown’s cold, gray rain.

“Sadie, do you know that homeless guy?”

Someone tapped my arm lightly. It was Ava, my junior from school, who was also from my hometown.

I looked away and nodded, saying, “Yeah, he’s my ex-husband.”

Ava gasped. She couldn’t even hide the shock in her voice.

“Ex… Ex-husband? Sadie, how did you end up marrying a homeless guy?”

I shook my head and handed out the last box of cold medicine before answering, “When I met him, he wasn’t like this. We just handed out our last box anyway, and the rain’s only going to get heavier. Let’s get back in the car and head to campus.”

On the ride back, I could see Ava sneaking glances at me, clearly wanting to ask more but too afraid to. I smiled helplessly. So, bit by bit, I started telling her about my past with Cole.

It wasn’t anything special. It was just an ordinary college romance. After graduation, he became a computer engineer in Tech Valley, while I worked as an actuary at a securities firm. We both earned decent money.

The apartment we rented was in a good neighborhood, the kind with solid security and quiet streets. In my plans, we would save enough to buy our own place within five years. Then, we’d get married, have a cute child, and have a small family.

Ava listened, but the more she heard, the deeper her frown grew.

“That sounds like a pretty happy life. So why did you get divorced?” She hesitated before blurting out the obvious guess. “Did Cole cheat on you?”

I gently pressed down the fist she had unconsciously clenched and explained, “No. He didn’t cheat, and neither did I. We divorced… because of a cooking pot.”

Ava’s eyes widened. She clearly thought I was joking, and maybe it really wasn’t just a cooking pot that broke our marriage.