He went to meet Meadow, while I dragged the suitcase out of the storage room. The things weren't too many or too few, but I was sweating and annoyed from sorting through them.
Why did we get assigned to Peyton's family property for our marital home?
If it were anyone else, I'd kick Peyton out without a second thought.
As I leaned against the fridge drinking a cold beverage, I decided to wait for Peyton Westbrook to come back and discuss things with him. I would first move the suitcase, and then give myself a few more days to deal with the rest.
The cold drink slid down my throat, and suddenly, I remembered something more important.
The marriage agreement that Peyton Westbrook had signed with his handprint.
No matter what, there still had to be a sense of ritual.
Standing on the chair to reach the highest shelf of the bookcase for the agreement, my eyes caught the frame on the left.
The photo showed Peyton and me standing side by side, wearing flower crowns on our heads. If you looked closely, you could even see the damp ends of our hair.
In our second year of marriage, both of our families participated in a charity event, purchasing supplies to donate to people in impoverished mountain areas.
To better understand the situation, Peyton and I drove into the mountains.
During our trip, we were caught in a downpour, and we got soaked to the bone. Peyton draped his coat over my head.
The road was muddy after the rain, and he held onto me, guiding me through the deep puddles. He then sheltered me under a narrow roof.
As we grew older, out of respect for boundaries, we never stood this close again.
The rain poured down on me, and in an instant, it was blocked by him. I reached up to hold his waist and pulled him closer to me, but I only touched the damp fabric of his coat.
The boy, once shorter than me, was now standing in front of me, holding up the sky.
In his embrace, my heartbeat quickened.
In the distance, a young girl hurried over, dressed in light clothes. She unlocked the door, ushering us inside to avoid the rain, and even lent me her towel to dry my hair.
With the sound of rain, I suggested taking a photo, and she shyly handed me a flower crown.
For the first time, I felt warmth from someone other than my family, and for the first time, I didn't dare to look at Peyton.
It felt as if the more I looked, the deeper the heat in my heart would become.
It was also that day, when Peyton Westbrook put the agreement on the highest shelf of the bookcase, his gaze deep as he looked at me.
"Its purpose will probably never see the light of day."
I didn't stop him nor say anything, but deep inside, I privately agreed with his words.
Breaking free from the memories, I exhaled a breath I had been holding in and reached up to take down the agreement and the photo frame. Some things are better left behind, and some things are better taken away.
Peyton came back early, his gaze immediately landing on my suitcase. He smiled and casually asked, "Where are you going?" I pointed to the agreement in front of me and smiled back, "I'm going to file for divorce." Peyton froze mid-motion as he was taking off his coat, his smile fading into disbelief.
"What?"
I held up the agreement and pointed to the bold letters "Marriage Agreement."
"We agreed, didn't we? If either of us falls for someone else, we would divorce unconditionally?" He was pretending, but I could tell he was already celebrating inside. However, the air in the living room Janetted to become heavy, and the silence made it hard to breathe.
I cleared my throat. "How about tomorrow?"
Peyton Janeted at me for two seconds before suddenly raising an eyebrow, a charming smile curving his lips as he asked, "You're in such a hurry?" His question caught me off guard.
Maybe I was being a bit too eager.
He was so strange. His first love had returned, yet he remained so calm, while I seemed to be the one overcompensating. Looking into his unreadable eyes, I opened my mouth but slowly placed the document back down. "Then, the day after tomorrow?"
"The day after tomorrow, I'll be on a business trip."
Without thinking, Peyton replied, then took a deep breath and began putting his coat back on. "I have to work late tonight. I'll leave now." Without giving me a chance to speak, he hurriedly disappeared out the door.
I Janeted at the empty living room, lost in thought.
How could he be working late right after coming from a welcome dinner? What kind of work was that? Should I even move out?
