Work is a normal affair for you, sitting in what the employers call, “The Oval Office”, and typing away on your keyboard to get the report done. Sleep only visited you for about an hour this morning before you lied awake in your bed at your new apartment, wondering if what you did was right and logical.

Just to make yourself feel better, you told yourself yes and proceeded to roll around, uncomfortable with whatever position or the pillow and screaming in frustration before you got up, dressed for work, and headed out to grab breakfast and a good amount of caffeine.

A few knocks on your door and your assistant tentatively shuffles in with your fourth cup of coffee in the past two hours. You muster whatever gratefulness you can on your lips and she takes it that you’ve had a long night, except, she might be thinking for other reasons completely opposite to what actually happened last night.

Your left hand rummages around on your desk for your phone as your eyes stay screwed to the computer screen. When your hand lands on nothing but wood, you frown and switch gazes, only to find that your phone is missing.

It’s still on the nightstand.

And what you don’t know is that it hasn’t stopped buzzing since twenty-five minutes ago.

-

-

“The number you have dialed is currently unavailable—“

Henry curses out loud before ramming the palm of his hand against the steering wheel, causing an obscene honk to echo throughout the park. Runners send suspicious glances at him and he buries himself in his car seat before letting his head fall back. He would barge into your workplace, but the last time he went to drop off flowers, just last week, they wouldn’t let him in, even though he was her husband. Just because he was her husband, doesn’t mean that he gets any special treatment, meaning he must call in beforehand to schedule an appointment, just like everyone else. This majorly pissed him off, but didn’t mention it that night. He had set the flowers on the coffee table back at home and pretended nothing happened.

A groan rips through his throat and he comes to his last resort. He punches in your work number and waits for your assistant to answer.

“Hello, this is Yoo Seohyun Miss _____ _________’s assistant. How may I help you today?”

“Can I schedule an appointment with her today?” He grumbles into the speaker, head still against the headrest.

“And what business are you discussing with her?”

“Um, personal.”

“Very well. You can come in at eleven-thirty, which is about twenty minutes. Is this okay?”

“Spiffing.”

“And who is arranging this?”

He hesitates. Should he reveal his identity in fear that she might run away before hand at the knowledge?

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry. Her husband.”

“Ah, Mr. Lau. I see you’ve learned your lesson. I’ll be sure to let her know.”

“Wait, don’t!” he alarmingly yells, shooting up in his seat. “I mean, ah, I want it to be a surprise, you know?” he adds in a bit of cheekiness in his voice to sound remotely convincing.

“Yes, sir. We’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you.”

Click.

As he carefully slips his phone into the cup holder, he checks the time and surreptitiously lets out a deep breath. Great, eighteen minutes to get his together and pray to whoever might be up there that this is all going to work out.

-

-

Your desk phone suddenly rings and you jump in your seat before holding the button. “Yes?”

“You have an appointment in fifteen.”

“Gotcha, thanks.”

You release the button and all but collapse into the back of your seat, your hand reaching for the coffee and successfully landing the liquid in your throat and not on your dress shirt and pants.

“Maybe this was all just a really bad idea,” you mumble solemnly beneath your breath. But then you recall the fact that your actions were purely done to make him happy, to go back to that fairytale dream before you came around.

Your big office chair squeaks as you shakily push yourself onto your two feet. After kicking off your heels, your feet pad across the ivory tile floor to the foot of the wall-size window. Tilting your head downwards, you observe the environment forty-two floors below you and watch the people running to catch taxis, children pushing their way through crowds, charms hanging off of a variety of cellphones, adults entering and exiting buildings, cars honking and sirens blaring in the distance. The little things remind you of what you have left behind.

Unknowingly, the best and worst times of the past two years scramble through your head. You barely register the pang and nostalgia in your chest that menacingly fights its way to your gut, causing tears to spring into your eyes. Your heart hasn’t caught up with your brain, and probably never will, but in this time where things are still fresh yet raw and painful, the vivid flashbacks are still there and it’s better than forgetting.

Flashes of the amusement park date stand out the most in your reminiscing; a smile subconsciously pulling at your glossed lips as you recall the determination in his eyes to get you the big stuffed panda. You two were just a married couple on a date, reputations and jobs and past shoved behind them, forgetting that they were two heirs to companies joining together that caused the marriage in the first place.

This early morning’s mishap replay frame by frame in your head as your bottom lip trembles at the sight of your sleeping husband— now ex-husband. You had faked your breathing to trick him that you had fallen asleep. What felt like years after he slipped into dreamland were only two hours, and your eyes had snapped open to prepare yourself and get your head into this. His arm had found his way around your waist, his breath had tickled the hairs on your neck, causing your breath to hitch and solidify in your throat. When you had laid your hand over his, the arm tightened even further, and you couldn’t help but feel how…perfectly your body molded to his. Everything had seemed so right at that moment that you wanted to burn your letter and divorce papers and forget that you had even wanted to do what you should do. But then he could have imagined it was his love that was in his arms and not you. Luckily, Henry’s a deep sleeper on certain days and you had managed to unwind his arm from your middle to tiptoe across the floorboard, grab your suitcases, head into the bathroom to change, and leave, but not without gazing back longingly at him.

From your position, you could see his face clearly. Your eyes drank in every feature of him: his arms, the black wife beater snugly fitting his body, his dyed brownish-reddish hair in a perfect muss of bed head, the way the wedding ring looked so perfect and necessary on his left ring finger.

Just seeing the wedding ring reminded you of your own and you had subconsciously twisted your own back and forth on your slim finger. After minutes of pondering, you had slipped it off with trembling fingers and ghostly shuffled over to the desk drawer to place it beneath some documents that he never looked in. Even though you said every trace of you would be gone, that would be one to leave behind, never to be found.

Your lips had mouthed his Chinese name, his real name that you swore to never call him after that infamous incident in the first few months of your marriage. The meaning and pronunciation was flawless on your tongue and you had to bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying and ruining everything.

The sheets on the bed had crumpled and shifted under his weight as his arm subconsciously made grabby gestures and moved where your figure had been. You had witnessed his little pout that pulled on his bottom lip and that nearly broke your resolve to leave.

But in the end, you had, and now here you were, gazing down at the streets below you and listening to the knocks on the door—

Oh, the knocks.

“Come in,” your voice cracks from misuse and you hear the knob turn before plastering a fake smile on your face. “What would you like to discuss—“

Words fall short as your twirl on your bare feet to address your newcomer before letting your lips fall into a straight line.

For a lack of better words, Xianhua seems as if he had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, what with the anger stretched across his face and his figure storming up to be right in front of yours. You will yourself not to break in front of him.

“Care to explain what this is?” he hisses with the divorce papers raised half-crumpled in his right hand.

You calmly clear your throat. “Those are official documents. Now that you’ve ruined them, I need to go get new ones. I think we should sit,” you supply and begin to make your way to your desk. However, his hand grabs your wrist to stop you from being able to hide in a big chair and behind a cherry wood desk.

“I think not,” he defies in that same tone and you sigh heavily before turning back to him and releasing your wrist from his grasp before crossing your arms over your chest.

“What do you think you’re doing with these?” He demands.

“Look, if you’re worried about what our parents will say, they’ll never know and we’ll just pretend like we’re still married—“

“That’s not what I’m worried about!” he roars and you fall silent.

“Do you know,” he starts after a few minutes, his chest noticeably rising and faltering. “What it feels like to be completely elated the night before and waking up to horror?”

You nod and he growls.

“Do you know what it feels like to wake up and think you’ve gone to the bathroom, only to find out ten minutes later that you’re still not back and walking around to find that things are different inside the house?”

You heart beats quickly in your chest as the beats pulse in your ears. Your eyes shift back to the glass window to avoid his gaze.

“Do you know what it feels like to find divorce papers on our desk and a ing letter telling me why you’ve decided to walk out of my life?! Do you understand what it feels to come with the fact that you may never see that special someone in your life ever again and only be reminded by the food miraculously appearing in the refrigerator?! Because I don’t think you do—“

“Of course I do!” you defiantly shriek, your arms uncrossing to stand firm at your sides. “I know what it feels like to be lied to for a whole year. I know what it feels like to have a one-sided love. I know what it feels like to leave someone and understand that I can never see him again. I know what it feels like to be truly happy one day and remember that things aren’t the way I’d like them to be the next day. I’m trying to make you happy, as I stated in that letter.”

“What are you even—“

“Every day when you were late coming home, I knew where you were. I knew you were with her and even though it hurt, it was inevitable. I knew about your girlfriend before we got married and I vowed to myself that I would give you back that life because you were so in love with it and her. And so now I give it back to you, the girl you’ve always wanted can go back into your arms—“

“You don’t know what I want,” he growls.

“I forgot about her a year later when I started noticing you. And I slowly fell in love with what I saw and observed. I took you to the amusement park because I wanted to see you smile for real,” he stated under his breath. You slightly flinch when he drops the papers in his right hand as it tucks a stray strand behind your ear, his touch lingering on the spot below your earlobe. “I got what I wanted, and I wanted to see you smile like that for the rest of our lives. I knew you weren’t happy, but I never knew why.”

His other hand slowly comes up, now both hands gently cradling your face, his left thumb your cheek. 

“I was so scared this morning when you never came out of the bathroom. I could barely register the fact that some of our pictures were missing, even wedding pictures. The ones of me were still there, but there was nothing of yours in the house, just food. When I saw the divorce papers…” his voice wavers. “I didn’t know what to do. I was livid, confused, bewildered that something like this would have come in my life. If I had never seen you again, if I had never been able to see that real smile of yours, the one that makes your eyes wrinkle a bit but sparkle, I don’t know how I would be able to cope…”

His eyes shine with unshed tears and trigger your own.

“Come home today. I don’t remember that girl anymore. I only want you, your cooking, your smiles, your clumsiness, the whole package. I want all the pictures back, your clothes back in the closet, the toiletries back in the bathroom…” he draws and pauses as his eyes shift to your left hand. “and that ring back on your left ring finger where it should and always belong. Come back to me,” he finishes off with a whisper.

His thumbs wipe away your tears and you unattractively sniff before nodding and finding yourself embraced in his strong arms, the scent of his cologne calming you.

“Not everything of me was gone,” you clarify. He pulls back and looks at you with a confused expression.

You grin a bit. “My ring under some papers in the desk drawer you never bother to open.”

He scoffs. “And I would have never been able to find it, or see it for that matter.”

“That was the idea.”

He wraps his arms around your shoulder and you return the gesture with yours around his waist. “I love you, Liu Xianhua.”

His nose nuzzles into your hair and you uncharacteristically giggle. “My name sounds so much better just coming from you.”

“Aish,” you playfully smack him on the back. “Where did all this cheesiness come from?”

“Oh, I don’t know, ever since some damned divorce papers showed up and—“

“All right, all right,” you laugh before pulling back and sealing both of your fates with a kiss.

Happily ever after.