It's Too Late for Your Love

I have claustrophobia, yet Luther Jansen abandons me in a stopped elevator so he can bring some flu medicine to his assistant. I ask for a divorce after that.

He signs the papers without hesitation and laughs about it with his friends. "She's just throwing a tantrum—her parents are dead, so there's no way she'll leave me.

"Besides, there's a 30-day cooling-off period for divorces, right? I'll generously let this matter slide once she regrets this, and she'll be back."

The following day, he shares an intimate photo of himself with his assistant. "I want to record every moment of your shyness."

I count the days until I'm free. Then, I calmly pack my stuff and make a call. "Can you buy me a flight ticket to Nanderton, Uncle David?"

"That's wonderful, Tabby. I'm so happy that you're finally coming back after all these years." The voice of a middle-aged man rose excitedly from the other end of the line. My uncle, David Norbury, was thrilled to hear from me.

Just as the call ended, Luther Jansen opened the door to the room. Along with him, the scent of an unfamiliar woman's perfume wafted in. The scent was so sickly sweet that it stung my nose.

"Who were you talking to?" Luther asked, his tone indifferent.

He wasn't really curious. Even as he spoke to me, his eyes stayed glued to his phone screen. He was unwilling to spare even one glance my way.

Just as I was about to answer, his phone rang again. A young woman's cloying, saccharine voice came through.

"Mr. Jansen, thank you so much for bringing me medicine the other day. Without you, my cold would've gotten so much worse. What would I do without you?"

Luther must have realized that his conversation with her wasn't entirely appropriate. He fumbled with his phone to lower the volume in a hurry.

Feeling fed up, I decided to stay silent. I thought it was pointless for me to speak since we were already planning to get a divorce anyway.

Quietly, I continued packing my things. Then, I made myself a customary glass of warm milk.

After Luther finished his call, he sat on the couch and flipped through his financial newspaper as usual. He habitually reached out for the Earl Grey tea I always brewed for him. However, it wasn't there this time.

He finally looked at me with an irritated expression as he snapped, "Ugh! Is there a need for you to be so petty? All I did was fail to come to your aid when the elevator broke down.

"Sasha has a relative who's a doctor. He said your claustrophobia isn't even a big deal, so stop being so dramatic. Besides, you're the one who brought up divorce, and I agreed. Why the long face all day?"

Previously, I had worked late one night and ended up getting trapped in the elevator. The power had gone out completely, and my phone had been dying. At