When Love's Curtain Drops

"Jerry, the wedding night completely exhausted me. I'm not familiar with this place, and the director said you should help me deliver this to HR."

The director had once shown me trust and recognition—I couldn't refuse. I had no choice but to run the errand.

But when I returned after finishing the paperwork, I found the banners in my office—symbols of gratitude from patients I had painstakingly treated—thrown to the ground, scuffed with footprints. Each one carried immeasurable meaning to me.

And there was Keith, lounging in my chair, feet propped on the desk, with my staff reports under his heels, looking at me with complete indifference.

"Jerry," he said casually, "I'll be working here from now on. It's better if these trivial things disappear."

Rage ignited in me instantly. I stormed forward and yanked him up by his collar.

"How dare you touch my things!" I roared.

And he—he actually grinned.

"If I can touch even Diane, what are these things to me?"

My teeth clenched with fury. I swung my fist straight at his face.

Keith collapsed to the floor, howling in pain. His sudden change left me momentarily stunned.

Then, the sharp click of heels announced her arrival. Diane stormed toward us, face blazing with anger.

Now I understood why Keith had shifted so abruptly just moments before.

Diane's hand struck my face without a shred of mercy.

"Jerry, you've gone too far!"

She bent down, soothing Keith while signaling someone to fetch a first-aid kit.

"Diane, don't be angry. Jerry didn't mean to hurt me," he said, his words a calculated provocation.

Her gaze on me grew even colder, her anger barely restrained.

"Keith's been overworked these past two days; his body is exhausted. Were you planning to kill him over a simple personnel change? For a position transfer, you strike like a madman! Jerry, you're such a petty, dark-hearted man—I can't even stand to look at you!"

Each word pierced me like a thousand needles, leaving me wounded and furious.

I could accept her choice. I could accept a job reassignment. I could even accept that she had never loved me. But I could not accept being misunderstood.

Seven years together. Countless nights I had given her my heart. Even if she could never love me, she should have understood my character. And yet, once again, I was humiliated. In front of Keith, I was nothing more than a lowly fool, trampled at will.

"You think staying silent will make this go away? Apologize!" she barked, as if scolding a dog.

"Why should I? Even if he had died, he would've deserved it!"

Diane's teeth ground together. She slapped me again.

"I must have been blind to marry a man so narrow-minded! Apologize! Or we're getting a divorce!"

She had once agreed to my proposal. Afraid that waiting too long would cause problems, I had begged her until she consented to register our marriage before holding the ceremony.

So divorce—that was Diane's final card.

I had once been terrified of losing her, unable to imagine my life without her. Time and again, I lowered my standards, compromised, and gave in to her.

But now it was different. My heart was broken beyond repair.

"Fine," I said. "We'll see each other at the courthouse for the divorce."

Diane's face flickered with uncertainty.

"Don't think I'm joking!"

I kept my expression solemn, my tone icy.

"I'm not joking either."

Diane stared at me in disbelief.

Keith, holding his injured face, wore a smug, triumphant grin.

"Diane, didn't you regret marrying him in the first place? Now, he's willing to divorce. What are you hesitating for?"

Diane said nothing, her gaze fixed on me, her expression dark and stormy.

"I'll give you two days to think it over," he continued coldly. "Don't come crying and begging me on your knees later. I've seen enough of that."

With that, she helped Keith out and left.

I picked up the scattered banners and gathered my things. Once I stepped out of the hospital, I went straight to my childhood friend's law firm.

"I want a divorce!" I declared.

"I always knew people who choose marriage rarely end up happy." Audrey handed me a glass of water, a wry smile on her face.

We had grown up next door to each other and were practically childhood friends, though she had always been disillusioned with love.

She was talented, beautiful, and pursued by many—but perhaps because of that, she remained single.

Recently, she mentioned wanting a wedding, just to fulfill her dream of wearing a wedding dress. But no one was willing to go through a fake marriage with her, so she had turned to me.

After a few earnest requests, she admitted I fit her ideal type.

In the past, I had stubbornly held onto Diane. Now, helping Audrey felt easy, almost right.

Once Audrey had handled the divorce paperwork for me, I went home.

Diane appeared from the kitchen, apron tied, and the dining table was filled with all my favorite dishes.

"Wash up. Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry. Eat yourself," I replied coldly, heading toward my room.

She grabbed my arm.

"Jerry, don't act so high and mighty. I was just helping Keith fulfill a little wish. How long are you going to keep causing trouble?"

Her face twisted with anger, every word dripping with fury. I knew reasoning with her in this state was useless. I wrenched my arm free and walked into the room without a word.

To my surprise, Diane followed immediately. Her eyes blazed, her anger intensified by my indifference.

"According to Keith's family's custom, there's another ceremony three days from now. Once that's over, we'll continue with our wedding. You can still be the lead surgeon. Still not satisfied?"

I said calmly, emotionless, "I don't care. The divorce agreement is ready. Just sign it."

Her eyes went blood-red, and she spat, "Fine. This is all your own doing. Remember—there's no cure for regret in this world!"

With that, she slammed the door and left.

She didn't show up for several days. I sent her the divorce agreement prepared by Audrey, but there was no response.

Three days later, my phone lit up with her call.

"There's a dinner party at the hospital tonight. Come."

I was about to refuse, but she hung up immediately and sent a location shortly after.

Seeing the divorce agreement's female signature still blank, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get it signed.

…

I followed the navigation to the place Diane had chosen.

Inside, she and Keith sat side by side, laughing and chatting like a genuinely happy newlywed couple.

Most of the guests were Diane's subordinates and friends.

When they noticed me standing at the door, their eyes filled with disdain and condescension.

But I had already let go of it all. I no longer cared.

They always used me for amusement—mocking me, looking down on me, endlessly persuading Diane to dump me.

Especially Erica Schmidt. She had provoked me face-to-face more than once. In her eyes, even if I were reborn eight hundred times, I could never be worthy of Diane.

Last summer, worried about Diane's safety, I secretly went to pick her up from work. But I hadn't expected to overhear Erica talking about me again, this time with Diane.

"Jerry? That pathetic loser? You actually like him? He has no skills or backbone. His relentless pursuit of you is just him trying to live off you. You'd be better off ignoring him."

Her words were sharp, venomous, and cut deep.

But Diane didn't defend me. She merely smiled faintly.

…

"Jerry, let's forget the past and have a drink."

Keith's words snapped me back to reality. In front of so many people, I couldn't embarrass him, so I raised my glass and drank it all in one gulp.

As I lifted my hand, my watch flashed into view.

Keith and Erica exchanged glances, grinning maliciously.

"Jerry, I didn't expect a lead surgeon to wear such an expensive watch. I guess I'll have to learn from you," Keith sneered.

"Keith," Erica chimed in, "doctors can't possibly earn that much. You should learn how he shamelessly clings to Diane instead."

They always attacked me openly.

"This watch is mine. It has nothing to do with anyone else," I said.

Erica laughed coldly. "Right. So all your groveling and flattery toward Diane—it's just for fame and money, isn't it? Wearing a watch worth over a hundred thousand dollars, and you still deny it?"

The room fell silent. Even Erica sensed the shift in atmosphere. She sneered, lifting her glass as she approached me.

"Jerry, you know I speak my mind. Let's be honest. You have no skills, no family background—how can you compare to Keith?"

"There's no question about that. But I probably shouldn't have said it out loud and embarrassed you like that. So I'll drink three glasses as an apology," I said.

The air in the room turned suffocating, heavy enough to choke on.

Diane stepped in, trying to smooth things over.

"Erica, you've had enough to drink. Let me help you rest next door."

But Erica wasn't placated. She pressed harder.

"Diane, don't force yourself. You yourself said he can't compare to Keith, didn't you?"

All eyes were on me. They expected me to erupt like a clown, jumping and yelling in anger.

But I only smiled calmly. I pulled out the divorce agreement and handed it to Diane.

"Perfect. This settles everything for you."

Diane sneered, thinking I was bluffing, and flipped through it dismissively.

"Jerry, haven't you played enough of these games?"

Then a card slipped from the agreement. Her eyes widened instantly.

"Groom: Jerry Maxwell… Bride: Audrey Hendricks?"

"Yes. It's my wedding invitation."

Diane went pale. Panic overtook her, her voice trembling.

"Why didn't you consult me about this? You're my husband! How can you hold a wedding ceremony with another woman?"

I smiled faintly, unfazed.

"It's just a ceremony. It's not like we're going to sleep together. What's there to panic about?"