Everything from our marriage flashed through my mind like a film.
The sweetness of our early days, Icarus's busyness, his mother's criticism...
My supervisor had told me that the headquarters was very pleased with my resume and wanted to transfer me to Germany as part of their talent development program.
I confidently rejected it.
"I still think family is more important. I can't bear to leave my husband and go so far away."
My supervisor emphasized, "This opportunity is rare. You might never get another chance like it."
But I was young and arrogant: "I'm still young, and I believe there will be more opportunities in the future."
At that time, I didn't understand the regret in her eyes.
And so, one wrong step led to many more.
His mother was diagnosed with late-stage cancer and threw a tantrum, demanding that I have this child. Icarus's eyes were tired, filled with dark circles, like a child on the brink of collapse.
"Lavinia, my mother is about to die..."
His tone was full of anxiety, silencing all my objections and refusals.
I gave in to their wishes and had the child.
And with it, I completely lost my chance in the workplace.
When the supervisor called me to discuss my resignation, I could clearly hear the regret in her voice.
She said, "Lavinia, you graduated from a top university, with a master's degree from a top school. You've worked so hard for all of this, just to quit and have someone else's child right after graduation?"
"Women already face so many difficulties in the workplace. How could you betray yourself like this?"
How could I betray myself?
That question hit me like a blow, leaving me dizzy and disoriented, unsure of where the years had gone.
Maybe because of Icarus, the matter of my resignation was quietly forgotten.
But in this way, I had also become a dependent of Icarus, someone who could only stay in the company because of him. I became the kind of parasitic person I once despised.
I once yearned to be independent and strong, to carve my own path, but I had thrown away that opportunity with my own hands.
So, I hated Icarus, hated that child, and hated the version of myself who had so decisively sacrificed her future for them.
There was also a hint of postpartum depression.
The anxiety and insecurity magnified around me. Icarus became my entire source of mental stability and hope. Even the slightest disturbance could crush me.
I started obsessively monitoring everyone around him—every secretary, every partner.
Like eyes in the dark, I had become an unreasonable shrew.
Until that day, when one of his secretaries came to pick up some documents. She looked at me with disdain and muttered unhappily.
"With someone like you, how could you possibly be worthy of Mr. Windham?"
Those words struck me like a hammer.
I remembered how I used to be the proud talent of fate, with a resume that everyone respected. I had received the best offers and partnered with Icarus to rise to the top.
And now? My career was hopeless, my body had changed, my skin was yellow, and I even had ugly stretch marks on my belly...
Neurotic, a frustrated housewife, sick, a parasite, unworthy of him... Each and every one of these thoughts crushed me, making it hard to breathe.
That day, I cried my eyes out.
That evening, I told Icarus I wanted a divorce.
With great effort, I said each word slowly: "I don't want to live with you anymore."
Icarus remained gentle as always, his beautiful eyes full of tenderness.
He hugged me and said helplessly, "Is it because you've been too tired taking care of the baby lately?"
"When I have more free time, how about we go on a trip together?"
Slap!
I slapped him across the face.
"I don't like him, Icarus."
I told him harshly, "Both you and him disgust me."
