2. Let’s Get a Divorce
2023.11.02
Helena turned her gaze away from the window and took another sip of her tea. The warm liquid wetted her mouth, and despite not having spoken for a long time, her voice came out soft and smooth.
“The weather is really clear today.”
“…I see.”
“And the tea smells even better than usual.”
“Is that so.”
Eugene gave a curt response and flipped the page of the newspaper, never once looking her way. The man, utterly indifferent, let his wife’s words drift by like a passing breeze.
He had no idea what she had felt over the past few years—or even now, as he looked at her.
“Did you know? You rarely meet other people’s eyes.”
“….”
“I suppose that’s natural. When you speak, they just nod and move like puppets, doing whatever you want.”
“Your preamble is too long, Helena. What exactly are you trying to say?”
“But you always looked at me. I loved the way you saw me with your eyes.”
“…How trivial.”
Eugene’s firm mouth pressed into a straight line as he dismissed her. Helena had no choice but to close hers. A brief silence fell.
Eugene’s eyes remained fixed on the thin sheet of paper in front of him.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The sound of the clock’s second hand struck unusually loud. Finally, the hands pointed to four o’clock.
Afternoon tea time—a time meant for couples to chat. And during this hour, the voice that filled the table had always been hers alone.
Sometimes, such indifference tightened around her more painfully than hatred ever could. In moments like this, she even wished he would at least hurl an insult her way.
Swallowing the dull ache in her heart, Helena looked one last time at the man in front of her.
Eugene. Eugene Evergale.
He was a man who fit perfectly into the definition of “flawless,” requiring no embellishments. Like a sculpture crafted by the geniuses of the century, he evoked admiration just by existing.
Despite a strong, defined face, his downward eyelashes were long. Beneath thick eyebrows, his golden eyes were sharp and radiant, like embedded gold.
His jawline was smooth, his nose sharply defined, and his jet-black hair added to the strength of his presence.
Helena remembered the moment his nose brushed against hers the first time he kissed her. She remembered how his bony hands brushed over her skin, and how her own voice had faltered when calling his name.
Those were the moments etched into her body at the start of each regression, moments he had made impossible to forget.
…Now, I have to let go.
One cannot live while holding a sculpture close to their chest. Even if a god pitied the person who loved it and breathed life into it, unfortunately, he was already human.
Cold, solid, and ever-changing.
Perhaps it would have been easier to love the sculpture itself.
Even if I endure here, you will never return.
As the sound of paper rustling echoed once more in the silence, Helena set her teacup down.
“So.”
This was the last time she would grasp at him.
After such a long stretch of years, this was the end she had finally reached with him.
From this moment forward:
“Let’s get a divorce.”
She said farewell to him.
Eugene was not surprised by Helena’s declaration. As before, he simply muttered a brief “I see” and continued.
But seconds later, his brows knitted tightly.
“…What?”
His tone was unusually urgent, as if urging her to say more. Helena ignored it and emptied her cup.
“The weather is nice, the tea is fragrant.”
When she slowly raised her gaze, this time their eyes met immediately.
“If we get a divorce today, I think this will be the happiest day.”
“You’re saying—”
“Eugene.”
Helena cut him off, for the first time in their long marriage. Perhaps for that reason, Eugene looked more surprised than displeased.
She continued calmly.
“Some people say they can be happy just by seeing flowers on the street or having a decent meal. I can’t. I never could here, and I never will. So at least today, I can allow myself a little happiness.”
“Do you even realize what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying I want a divorce.”
Eugene let out a short, incredulous breath.
“…Come to your senses, Helena. Are you still half-asleep from your nap?”
His pure golden eyes reflected confusion.
Eyes that once sought her out desperately, hoping to see her again, she now faced squarely for the first time in this situation—and she found it almost laughable. Ridiculous, even.
“Do I have to say it one more time for you to understand? I don’t want to stay by your side anymore.”
Though the words felt absurd, her tone was as measured as a critique of a dull play. She hoped he perceived it that way.
“Helena.”
Eugene finally leaned back in his chair. The newspaper he had been holding was set aside. His face betrayed complete incomprehension—why the always-submissive woman had suddenly changed.
“Bored because there’s been no party lately? Fine, but don’t play games like this. It’s not amusing.”
He had no idea that it had been more than three months since he had set foot even in a small tea party. He thought her words were merely a petty tantrum from boredom.
“Seeing you speak like this, maybe it’s best you take a break for a while.”
As expected, Eugene leaned back, dismissing her words.
“Go refresh yourself at the villa in Shahal, or go shopping with Mrs. Grand. No need to flaunt yourself in front of me. Do I have to explain everything?”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Helena didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He was her husband, yet in many ways, an impressive man.
I was foolish to love someone like him.
“No. I’ve wanted to say this every moment.”
And yet she still felt like a fool. It had taken immense courage just to speak this single sentence.
Helena forced open her tightening throat.
“The divorce papers are already prepared. All that’s left is your signature. After all, it’s what you wanted too.”
Her voice was firmer than ever. Relief.
When she lifted her eyes, Eugene no longer said a word.
You will love her now, not me.
The teacup was empty. There was no reason to waste time on petty conversation.
Helena stood without hesitation.
“If there’s nothing more to say, I’ll be leaving. I need to prepare.”
Just as she turned, his arm caught hers. In a single step, Eugene closed the distance.
He pulled her toward him, forcing her to look at him.
“You’re leaving? Where to?”
“Anywhere.”
“You say anywhere, but this is your home.”
“Don’t be mistaken. This is Eugene Evergale’s house, not mine. Where is Helena Owen’s place here?”
When she deliberately used her maiden name instead of his family name, Eugene growled, his voice scraping like a throat clearing.
“Are you sane?”
Helena frowned, feeling the strength in his grip.
Knowing he looked like someone wincing from a sore arm gave her a small sense of comfort.
“I’ve never been more sane.”
When she tried to free her arm, the long sleeve of her dress came with it. The sleeve was wide and heavy, decorated with layers of frills. It often tripped her when walking.
The dress had been a gift from Eugene on their last wedding anniversary. Her wardrobe was full of such grandiose outfits.
“…Your gifts were always like glass slippers.”
Slipping into them was painful, and yet removing them was impossible without a struggle. To hear the delicate sound of footsteps, one had to endure the pain. He had only ever noticed her shoes, nothing else.
I knew every detail about you—your favorite fabrics, which vintage Burgundy you preferred, which corner of your smile tilted higher—and yet none of it matters anymore.
The imbalance between them could not be corrected; she had to shatter the scale entirely to free herself.
She no longer hoped for anything from him—neither as a husband nor as a long-term companion.
“Helena. Sit for now. Don’t regret it later.”
Eugene gently pulled her arm, taking her temporary pause as consent.
The space she had worked to maintain instantly vanished.
He pulled, she resisted. She refused to fall into his arms like a wounded bird. Before it became irreversible, she had to sever it.
Helena let go, freeing her arm.
“I suppose I’ll leave this dress since it’s yours. Thanks for reminding me.”
With a dry snap, his hand released hers.
Her chest twisted oddly. Pain, or relief?
She stepped backward slowly toward the exit. Eugene stared, frozen, his eyes flashing like a predator about to strike.
“….”
His lips twitched, but he did not speak her name.
Helena turned her back on him and walked straight out into the indoor garden.
