After the funeral of my father, who was a business owner, my SIL: “My husband’ll inherit his house. Pack your things immediately.” Hearing this, my aunt laughed and said, “You’re joking, right?” When she learned the truth, her face turned pale and unexpected twist unfolded..

“Please do not worry, as we will take over the $3 million inheritance and the apartment buildings left by your father,” Cathy, my brother’s wife, declared confidently, filled with joy, or so it seemed.

She smiled in front of the portrait of my father, who had passed away. She looked like the embodiment of evil. However, she was under a grave misunderstanding. Until that misunderstanding was cleared, I would patiently endure. I couldn’t let all that my father left fall into the hands of such a person.

My name is Sarah. I am a 45-year-old unmarried woman.

“Hey, Sarah, could you do a final check on the blueprint that’s due tomorrow?”

“Sure, Dad.”

At my father’s request, I started the final check on the blueprint. I work at my father’s architectural firm, handling both clerical and design work. Ever since I was young, I’ve been interested in my father’s work, aspiring to have the same career as him.

For this purpose, I studied architecture and design in high school and university, and joined my father’s company immediately after graduating. We have continued the business together.

I have been designated as the next manager by my father, and I have the trust of our employees. I have an older brother who is 5 years older than me and a liberal arts major, but he has no interest in design and is unlikely to be involved in the management or operation of the company in the future. So I am not particularly worried about the succession of the business.

It is a small company with about 15 employees that my father took over from my grandfather. I intend to cherish and grow this company from then on. That’s my resolution.

“Dad, I finished all my work. I’ll head home and start preparing dinner.”

“Thank you, and good job for today.”

My father normally insists that employees leave on time unless there is a special situation. On that day, as 6:00 p.m. approached, most of the staff had already left for home, and only my father and I remained in the office.

He always said a manager should work diligently and not slack off, and he would work late into the night every day. I have respected my father for many years for this. However, he was turning 75 that year. He was not young anymore, and I wished he would avoid overworking.

Upon arriving home, the house was pitch black. My mother had died in an accident when I was in my 20s, and now it’s just my father and I.

As I turned on the light and was about to start preparing dinner, I heard the door opening.

“Oh, Sarah, are you here?”

It was the voice of Cathy, my brother’s wife. I wondered what she needed at dinner time.

“What brings you here so late?”

“I don’t care about you. Where’s your dad?”

I honestly couldn’t feel any affection from Cathy’s harsh words. It seemed she hadn’t had very good feelings toward me since before she married my brother.

“Don’t depend on your parents and live a sloppy life. Don’t expect to rely on us when you get older,” she would often say.

I live independently without relying on my father and have no intention of asking my brother and his wife for help in my old age. But arguing is pointless. No matter what I say, she doesn’t listen.

She continued her barrage of words, claiming, “You’re not dependent while you have a job thanks to your father’s business. This, you can’t predict the future. As you age, you should save up for retirement early.”

She would always criticize me at every opportunity. After speaking with her, I realized that talking to someone who harbors ill feelings toward me is meaningless. Since then, I’ve tried to avoid her as much as possible.

My brother got married in his 40s, so they don’t have children yet. She had the audacity to tell me, “Being unable to have even one child, you’re a burden to society.”

That statement applies to her as well, but I never said it out loud. That’s because my brother told me Cathy once had an illness and can’t have children because of that, so please avoid that topic.

I know there’s a difference between a person who can’t have children even though he or she wants it and a person who can wish for it but decided not to. But still, I couldn’t comprehend what made my brother decide to marry her. Around that time, question marks seemed to be floating above my head all the time.

Oh, how I detested them.

“So when will your dad be returning home?”

“Dad will likely be home late tonight. He said he would stop by the apartment first.”

“Hm, that apartment, huh?”

Cathy said with a sly smile. That apartment was originally passed down from my grandfather to my father. While we no longer owned it, Dad still cherished it as a property he received from his dad and regularly checked on it.

He even actively did the cleaning and weeding that the property management company usually handled, apparently to the residents’ delight.

Hearing that Dad wouldn’t be back soon, Cathy quickly gathered her things and began to prepare to leave. What could her true purpose be?

“Make sure you tell your dad that I came to check on him. Don’t forget.”

After giving me these instructions, Cathy looked around the house, then left.

“Dad, Cathy came over.”

“I wonder what she wanted.”

“I don’t know. She came over when I was alone, but she just sat there and didn’t really do anything.”

“Honestly, I’m glad I wasn’t home,” my father said with a wry smile.

Neither Dad nor I could grasp her true intentions.

“Well, she is a bit odd, so maybe her motives are incomprehensible to us normal folks. But I don’t mind it much. Sarah, dinner was delicious today as well. I’m always grateful,” Father said with more gratitude than usual.

“What’s with you all of a sudden? It feels weird,” I joked, and my father laughed shyly.

“You’ve become so reliable, Sarah. Maybe it’s about time for me to retire.”

“What are you talking about? I still have so much to learn from you, Dad.”

“Is that so? Well, I guess I’ll take a bath and head to bed. Good night.”

“Good night.”

A week later, he suddenly collapsed at work. At the time, I was in a meeting at a client’s office and received an urgent call from a colleague.

“Sarah, the boss. The boss.”

My father, unconscious, was rushed to the hospital. I immediately wrapped up my work and headed to the hospital, called my brother right away, and then contacted Cathy.

My brother promised to come to the hospital quickly, but Cathy’s response was, “Uh, do I need to go there? You’re there, aren’t you, Sarah?”

What? To have such a reaction when your father-in-law is in critical condition. However, it was pointless to argue now. I tried to remain calm and persuade her.

“Actually, Dad’s condition is quite critical. At least come to say goodbye. You used to visit my father often, didn’t you?”

But an unexpected response came back.

“Yeah, I was just trying to be in his good books, hoping to get some information about the inheritance.”

Hearing Cathy say that so nonchalantly, I was speechless.

“I’m not good with hospitals, and if there’s a funeral, I need to get my hair and nails done. I don’t have time to go to the hospital.”

Her utterly impossible attitude was brimming with vitality. This person is simply no good.

“Understood. Then never mind.”

I couldn’t contain my anger and raised my voice. I hoped this outrage would make her reflect, even if just a little. But the response that came back was this.

“Contact me after he passes away. I’m busy too.”

Her dismissive tone increased my anger toward her. She was more than just an unpleasant person. Being legally recognized as family, as sisters with such a person, was unbearable.

Two hours after that call, my father passed away quietly. He was 75 years old.

We immediately began arranging the wake and the funeral. There wasn’t even time for the family to mourn due to the rush of various preparations. Despite this, my brother, who should be fulfilling his duty as the chief mourner, seemed emotionally detached.

“Sarah, did Dad have any special illness? His passing seemed so sudden. What exactly does the chief mourner do? Do you know? Wait, I have to give a speech? That’s such a hassle.”

At 50 years old, my brother was failing to fulfill his role as the chief mourner. I was angered by his nonchalant remarks, but I was even more astonished by Cathy’s attitude.

“Why should I, as the wife of the eldest son, have to step forward? I hate troublesome things. You do it.”

With that, she immediately disappeared to the back.

I was also scrambling with greeting the attendees, detailed meetings with the funeral home, and interactions with the company. In the midst of all this busyness, her indifference was unbearable.

I could understand feeling inconvenience since he wasn’t her own parent, but such an attitude was inexcusable. My anger turned to sadness.

“Well, well, Cathy has her own difficulties too. Sarah, please handle her part as well.”

My brother was always taking Cathy’s side. Does he even know the rude things his wife has said? Those words nearly escaped my lips, but I felt it was futile to inform my ineffectual brother of the reality.

In the end, I ignored my brother and his wife and focused on fulfilling my duties. With the help of relatives, we managed to complete the funeral without incident.

It was during the first seven days of mourning, when the relatives gathered again, sharing drinks.

“Uh, he passed away without suffering, so he must be content now.”

The one who spoke to me was my father’s younger sister, my aunt, who was 15 years his junior. Still young at 60, to me, my aunt was like a sister whom I could talk to about anything despite our age difference.

As my aunt and I were reminiscing, Cathy suddenly stood in front of us, exuding the aura of a villain from a drama. If this were a drama, even someone who just tuned in would immediately know she’s the antagonist.

“Shall we get started?”

“What are you starting?” I tilted my head, not grasping her intention.

“It’s about inheritance. My husband is the eldest son, so the $3 million inheritance and that apartment are rightfully ours. I checked the bank book the other day.”

My aunt and I were surprised by this abrupt talk of inheritance, exchanging glances.

How did she check the bank book, which was securely locked away in the depth of a safe? We were at a loss for words.

Cathy, presuming to control the situation, confidently continued.

“You have the company and this house, don’t you? What more could you want?”

“Well, that’s…”

Before I could explain, she unilaterally pushed on with her agenda. Next to her, my brother, as if uninterested, simply kept drinking silently.

“Maybe I’ll raise the apartment rent a bit. If the rental income increases, our life will be easier. Or maybe we could rebuild it. Your dad really left us a valuable inheritance.”

Her loud voice echoed, and the relatives fell into a hushed silence. But then someone couldn’t suppress a laugh.

One uncontrollable laugh spread to others, who began to look down, covering their faces with handkerchiefs. Then my aunt whispered to me.

“Is she joking?”

“If you have something to say, speak up.”

Cathy glared at my aunt with her arms crossed, looking imperious. My aunt and I could only offer a wry smile.

Taking a deep breath, I began to explain the situation.

“Um, Cathy, there is no inheritance left for my brother to receive.”

“What do you mean there’s no way? There is nothing? Are you trying to trick me?”

Cathy’s face, once triumphant, now filled with anger.

“The circumstances are different. The apartment belongs to my aunt, and I have taken over the company. The inheritance from Dad has already been passed on completely, so there is nothing left for my brother to inherit now.”

“What? That’s news to me. I haven’t been informed of anything at all.”

Since this was decided before my brother married Cathy, it’s understandable that she didn’t know.

Here’s the situation.

It was only natural for my father to want to pass a company to me after years of working with him. I had initially resisted, feeling it to be a heavy responsibility, but it was very important to him.

He had a strong desire to pass his business onto his own flesh and blood. When I decided to take over the management, we went through the proper legal procedures for inheritance with a lawyer.

As for the apartment, it’s Dad’s lifetime gift to my aunt and uncle, a decision made when Grandpa passed away. Everything about the company has been settled, and my brother agreed when it was decided that I would take over.

Lastly, the ownership of this family home has also been transferred to my name. So there is really nothing left for my brother to inherit now.

As I carefully explained the details, my brother seemed to recall something and began to speak.

“Ah, now I remember. Dad gave me a substantial amount of money as a lifetime gift or something. Was that what it was? I got a lot of money all at once and just spent it without much thought. Ahaha.”

Indeed, my brother used to spend quite lavishly when he was single. He would travel overseas more than three times a year, his taste in brands significantly upgraded, and it seemed he would change cars several times a year.

“So the apartment is in Andy’s name? I always thought I would inherit it.”

My brother must have conveyed such information to Cathy without verifying it, unaware of the true circumstances of the money he received. Amounting to nearly a million dollars, he had spent almost all of it without a second thought. This was easy to imagine.

“So what about the bank book with the $3 million in it?”

“That’s an old bank book from the company that’s no longer in use. But why do you ask? It should have been stored in the safe.”

“That’s…”

That old safe perhaps had been opened with a thin tool of some sort. If so, that would be quite a feat. My aunt frowned and stared at Cathy.

At that moment, my brother murmured quietly.

“Did Dad hate me?”

“What?”

I let out an exasperated voice at his unexpected remark.

“Because it’s just Sarah who gets the special treatment. I’ve already spent all my money, and I have none left. You’ll have the house and the company too.”

At such a childish remark, my aunt stood up.

“You’re an adult now. Why would you say such things? Do you know how hard Sarah worked to take over the company?”

“Auntie.”

My aunt understood the struggles and efforts I had gone through, knowing that my decision to take over the company was not made lightly. She spoke in my defense.

“For that reason, the financial hardship you’re facing is the result of your own actions. It’s only natural that your money would run out if you lived so lavishly.”

I remember Dad frequently worrying about my brother’s extravagant lifestyle. Giving him cash might have been a mistake. If such wastefulness continued, bankruptcy would be inevitable sooner or later.

I shared his concerns, and my brother used up the lifetime gift he received from Dad within a few years. Not leaving cash behind now is, in a way, a lesson from Dad.

One should enjoy luxury from income and by one’s own work, not from unexpected money. My aunt’s stern advice made my brother hang his head.

However, Cathy was not convinced.

“I’ve never heard of anything like that. Why am I the only one who doesn’t know? I can’t believe the apartment wasn’t his anymore.”

“That’s because it happened before you came into the family.”

“I’m the wife of the eldest son, and I wasn’t informed at all. Dad didn’t teach me anything. This is strange.”

Watching Cathy’s outburst, it was clear that my father had not discussed the inheritance with her. But I could somewhat understand his intentions. Maybe he had always seen through Cathy’s greedy nature, her significant attachment to money.

“There’s nothing strange about this. It’s Dad’s will.”

At my calm response, Cathy’s eyes widened and she raised her voice.

“I won’t accept this. I’ll sue you.”

“But you’re not even in a position to inherit, so I don’t think you have any right to reclaim anything.”

Hearing my logical statement, Cathy became furious. She knocked over a vase that was a keepsake from our mother, shattered the glasses on the table, and rampaged around, screaming incoherently.

What was supposed to be a gathering for my father’s memorial turned into an unexpected uproar. Eventually, my brother and other relatives had to intervene to calm her down, and the gathering came to a somewhat peaceful end.

“Cathy, I’ll send you the bill for the broken vase and glasses later. Wrecking someone’s house is not acceptable.”

“Shut up, you money grubber.”

With those words, Cathy hastily left the house with my brother in tow.

Honestly, if anyone’s a money grubber, it’s her. It’s astonishing how money can change a person so grotesquely. It was a day when I fully realized the true horror of Cathy’s nature.

In the end, my brother and Cathy got divorced. Surprisingly, the initiative for the divorce came from my brother, who was always hesitant in making decisions.

“After witnessing her obsession with money, I became scared to be with her,” my brother said with a pale face.

That seemed to indicate he had no visible wealth left and seemed to wonder what would have become of him if he had.

Cathy, who was a housewife, claimed she couldn’t survive if they got divorced. But then we found out something about her.

“Actually, Cathy had a criminal record for marriage fraud before we got married. When I brought that up with the lawyer and filed for divorce, she surprisingly agreed to it easily.”

I was shocked to learn about her unexpected past. However, considering her abnormal fixation on money, perhaps it’s not surprising she had some issues.

To be honest, I’m relieved that the family ties with such a person have been severed. Yet I can’t help but worry about my brother’s lack of judgment. As his sister, I feel concerned.

“Sarah, I mean, boss, you have a visitor.”

I stood up at the call from an employee.

“There’s no need to start calling me boss.”

I still feel a bit embarrassed by the title, but I am also aware of the grave responsibility I hold to protect this company and its employees.

“The CEO is the boss, right, boss? We’re all looking forward to the next payday.”

I can’t help but smile at another employee’s joke.

“You all really love your jokes.”

I’m happy to be recognized as their leader.

Dad, I swear I will protect this company.

With that resolve in my heart, I hand my business card, printed with “President and CEO,” to the visitor.

My name is Megan. I’ve been married for 10 years and am now in my early 40s. We don’t have any children, but my life with my beloved husband Kevin is very peaceful and blissful.

Kevin is a typical company employee without any major changes in his life and 5 years older than me. But since I’m working part-time, our two-person household has a reasonable amount of financial leeway, allowing us some luxuries.

Our married life has been smooth without any major ups and downs. However, a minor incident started causing ripples in our tranquil daily life.

This incident involved the news of my beloved father’s death and inheriting his apartment.

When we got married, my father started living alone in a new, modern two-bedroom apartment he had purchased. On the other hand, Kevin and I lived in my childhood home, a four-bedroom apartment filled with memories.

This childhood home was transferred to me from my father when I got married. Before that, my father, mother, and I used to live there. When I got married, my father gave it to me with his blessings for our happiness. He suggested, “Why not start your new life in this home?”

I was elated by his offer. Later on, when my father passed away, I inherited the new two-bedroom apartment he was living in. I was very fond of that apartment, so I decided to rent it out immediately.

However, one day during a conversation with my in-laws, an unexpected suggestion came up.

“Sarah and her children are living in a small place. How about they move to Megan’s four-bedroom apartment?”

Sarah is Kevin’s younger sister, who was divorced and raising three kids. They were living in a two-bedroom apartment, which might be a bit tight for them. But to be honest, my relationship with Sarah has not been great.

Every time we met, she would make slightly sarcastic remarks about us not having children yet. Kevin and I decided to get married when we were just under 30. Since then, Sarah started to make pointed remarks.

After crossing 30, her comments became even more hurtful. Remarks like, “You’re already past 30 and you still have no kids,” or, “Aren’t you seen as less of a woman without children?” were thrown in jest.

But what shocked me the most was an incident after my beloved father passed away. Sarah said, “It’s a pity you couldn’t show your father the face of his grandchild.”

It was a moment that left me cold.

Sarah is actually 3 years older than me. Instead of a younger sister-in-law, she’s more like an older one. We’ve always tried to treat her as family and interacted with her amicably, but after such remarks, I naturally built a wall in my heart against her.

I’m an only child, and my only family was my father. Amidst the grief of losing him, Sarah’s words were truly shocking.

Time had passed since my father’s death, and I hadn’t seen Sarah for a while. But out of the blue, my mother-in-law made a surprising proposal.

“Sarah says she’ll pay $500 in rent each month.”

Looking at my mother-in-law’s smug face, I was so shocked that I couldn’t say anything.

The apartment we lived in was a bit old, but we had taken good care of it, so it was still in a usable condition. There was a big shopping mall nearby, and we could easily take trains and buses. So if we were to rent out this apartment, I thought it wouldn’t go for less than $2,000 a month.

But $500? I was truly surprised.

Do they even understand the going rate for this area? It’s unthinkable for this spacious four-bedroom apartment’s monthly rent to be just $500.

Maybe they had assumed that I had agreed because I didn’t say anything. My mother-in-law seemed very enthusiastic about the idea.

“You guys already have another apartment, right? You can just live there. Even if you don’t renew the lease later on, Sarah and the others will move there, so it’s fine. How long is the contract term?”

Kevin was also very excited, saying, “That’s really a great idea. The place where your father lived is new and lovely, and it’s perfect for just the two of us.”

At this rate, I felt like the conversation was progressing without considering our opinions, and I started to panic.

I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Isn’t there an option for all of us to live together in this apartment?”

My in-laws’ house was big, and they were the only ones living there. Rooms for Kevin and Sarah are also available, so I thought it would be no problem if they moved in. After all, they’ve said they want to live in a bigger place.

Normally, before making such moves, you would consult with your family, I think. However, moving to the in-laws would mean the kids changing schools, and they seemed concerned about the hassle and cost of buying new school uniforms and gym clothes.

I was hesitant to clearly express my reluctance to rent to Sarah in front of my mother-in-law, but I told her, “This place is my hometown. I can’t just leave easily.”

I left their house that day, but my mother-in-law said, “You don’t have to decide right away,” which made me feel she hadn’t given up.

When I returned home, I asked Kevin, “This apartment is precious to us. Why are you deciding so easily to leave?”

He looked surprised and responded, “Well, it’s not a single-family home.”

I was a bit shocked by his reply. Perhaps because he grew up in a single-family home, an apartment doesn’t feel like a real home to him. But I wish he could at least apologize for not understanding my feelings.

Upset, I raised my voice.

“It’s my home, my apartment. Why are you deciding things without consulting me?”

Kevin looked upset.

“We’ve been married for 10 years. Why do you say my apartment? It’s our apartment.”

His voice contained a hint of anger. I wished he could understand how I feel about this apartment as my cherished home. If he had hesitated to rent the apartment to his sister, I might not have felt hurt by his words.

Our place. But at that moment, I felt hurt.

We tried to calmly discuss it many times after that, but it wasn’t easy. Kevin seemed not to understand my feelings at all, and I got words like money-minded, stubborn, and selfish thrown at me.

As time passed and the seasons changed, the wall between us remained unchanged. During that time, I kept receiving messages from my mother-in-law asking if the discussions about living together were progressing.

The pressure from my mother-in-law and Kevin, who wouldn’t understand my perspective, slowly wore me down. I felt I was reaching my breaking point.

One day, I was shocked to receive an email from Sarah. It said, “Why are you two without kids hesitating to move out of such a small space? You don’t need that big of a place. Just leave.”

I hadn’t heard from Sarah since our discussions about the apartment, and yet here she was, out of the blue, telling me to leave. I never imagined I’d receive such a direct email.

Reading that message, I reflected on how much I had endured and felt deep self-loathing. The idea of divorce crossed my mind several times. I tried to calm myself each time, but I felt like I was at my limit.

I decided to go to the local government office to initiate divorce proceedings. I also decided to reach out to a specific place for the next steps.

A few days later, with a renewed mindset, I visited the court. Upon checking, it turned out that both the apartment I lived in and the one I was renting out were all under my name.

It was my apartment.

Confirming this fact, I decided to confront my relationship with my husband and thought about what I should do next. I wanted to thoroughly discuss everything with him.

“I’ve told you many times. This is my house. I just can’t stand the idea of renting this apartment to Sarah. I don’t want to rent my home to someone who belittles and looks down on me. Please persuade your mother and Sarah,” I said.

Kevin’s face darkened, looking like he was thinking, this topic again.

I had told Kevin about all the harassment I received from Sarah and how much I disliked her. I wanted him to understand my feelings, but the outcome was different.

Kevin sided with Sarah, saying, “Sarah is right.”

In hindsight, I could have gotten a divorce at that point, saving myself from this anguish. But I couldn’t end a relationship that had lasted for 10 years so easily.

If Kevin rejected my proposal, I was prepared to divorce. Deep down, I felt that way.

“Maybe you’re just being overly sensitive about Sarah. Perhaps you feel she’s being condescending, but maybe you’re exaggerating things. I really don’t understand why you feel this way,” Kevin said, making light of my feelings without knowing the whole story.

His words stung.

Was I the only one feeling like this?

“If that’s the case, will you sign this?”

I presented him with the divorce papers. A look of shock appeared in Kevin’s eyes, but he immediately said, “Do you really feel that way? You want to end our relationship over such a trivial matter?”

“I’m serious. I care about Sarah too, and I always wanted to be with you. But recently, our relationship feels different. I don’t feel the love anymore, so I’m leaving,” I said while looking into his eyes.

My heart sank at Kevin’s attitude. His casual smile hinted that he didn’t grasp the gravity of my feelings, and I felt a tear threatening to spill. I wished he would leave sooner rather than later.

“Maybe Sarah and your mother don’t necessarily want to get along with you. Have you ever considered that because you always think about yourself, that’s why our relationship is like this?” Kevin said in a slightly softer tone.

This is how we always were, misunderstanding each other even while trying to care for one another.

“Look, I think it might be impossible to fix our relationship. No matter how much we talk, I feel there’s still a distance between our hearts. I can’t even imagine a future with you anymore. If you won’t respond to my feelings, then we’ll have to take legal action,” I explained slowly.

Kevin, with a mix of surprise and sadness on his face, quivered.

“Do you really feel that way?”

Afterwards, he left the house without a word. He probably didn’t want to talk anymore and just wanted to escape the situation. He hadn’t signed the divorce papers, and he left his belongings behind.

A few days later, Kevin returned. His eyes looked sad and somewhat wary.

“What should we do from here?” he gently asked.

He might think I’d forgive him if he humbled himself, but everything is already settled.

“There’s nothing left to discuss. If you agree to the divorce, sign these documents. If you can’t, then we’ll have to seek legal action. And also, I’m letting go of this house,” I said.

Actually, I had been considering selling the house for some time. The day I went to get the documents, I had consulted with Mr. Thomas, an old friend of my father’s.

I’ve known him since I was a child. He was by my father’s side until his last day. Mr. Thomas, who attended my father’s funeral, gave me his business card and asked to be contacted if any problems arose.

The card listed his law firm’s details. With Mr. Thomas’s introduction, I was fortunate to get assistance from a judicial scrivener regarding the inheritance my father left behind.

When I told Mr. Thomas about my situation, he gave sincere advice. He informed me about the importance of verifying ownership, handling complications in divorce negotiations, and other helpful tips.

Thanks to his advice, I could protect myself.

After Kevin temporarily left the house, I decided to sell the apartment. I quickly reached out to real estate agents and informed them of my intentions to sell.

I also informed Mr. Thomas about the deteriorating relationship with Kevin, his refusal to sign the divorce papers, and sought his support for the divorce procedures.

When Kevin found out about the sale of the apartment, he reacted with both shock and anger.

“You always said this was our family home. Are you really planning to let go of such an important place? And after being so concerned about Sarah, you’re truly selfish.”

But his words no longer unsettled me.

“Do you have anything else to say?” I asked, looking him straight in the eyes, and took a deep breath.

He was momentarily taken aback, but quickly began to assert his views.

“Why would you decide such an important matter on your own? The apartment might be in your name, but after a divorce, there should be a division of property. This apartment is the property of both of us who live here, right?”

Kevin became emotional and pleaded with desperation. In response, I gave him a slight smile and replied, “Actually, this apartment has been under my name even before we got married. I’ve already checked with my lawyer, and any property acquired before marriage is not subject to property division.”

Selling the apartment, of course, had its resistance, but I didn’t want to leave behind more painful memories in this place. With the information about property division from Mr. Thomas, I decisively chose to sell.

Kevin, upon learning the truth, suddenly changed his attitude.

“I’m sorry. This place is special to you. But it hasn’t been sold yet, right? Please reconsider. Why don’t we give it another shot together? I’ll explain things to Sarah and Mom. Please just stop the divorce and the apartment sale.”

In his words, I questioned myself why I had stayed with him for 10 long years.

I’m dumbfounded that I chose someone like him.

“Don’t put on a nice face now. When we were together, you never once stuck by my side, did you? Thinking of starting over with you now is unfathomable, so please leave. We both need a fresh start.”

He wasn’t easily convinced, creating a vast rift between us. But after navigating through various procedures, I finally managed to end our relationship.

It’s the beginning of a new life. The idea of being alone was initially daunting, but I realized it isn’t as scary as it seemed. Now I live in a new two-bedroom apartment, living life on my terms.