Love Was a Dream, Now It’s Dead

During dinner, Adrian's childhood sweetheart, Clara Bennett, sat with red-rimmed eyes, staring at a half-eaten rice bowl. Noticing her distress, Adrian, the perfectionist with OCD, gently reassured her, "Come on, Sniffles, haven't I always finished your leftovers?"

I handed him the sterilized chopsticks, as I always did, but he snapped at me this time. "Emily, did you even bother disinfecting your hands before touching the chopsticks? Stop grossing me out."

After the meal, he used the tie I had made for him to wipe Clara's mouth. Normally, I'd have caused a scene and made everyone uncomfortable. But this time, I couldn't bring myself to care. Eight years of marriage, and it all felt so utterly meaningless.

——

Earlier, I'd finished a call with my divorce lawyer. Moments later, Adrian found me in the restaurant bathroom. He threw me a small bottle of disinfectant, barely glancing in my direction.

"Don't bring your germs into my car." His voice was as cold as ever.

Adrian's OCD was severe. He never went anywhere without disinfectant wipes and alcohol. And more often than not, he used them on me. My hands, after years of scrubbing and constant exposure to alcohol, developed an allergy. They would itch, break out in rashes, and occasionally even peel.

My silence only made Adrian more annoyed.

His eyes narrowed when he saw my hands' fresh layer of peeled skin. "Emily, your hands are disgusting. Why don't you just wear gloves and cover them up?"

In the past, I would have argued with him, desperate to win his approval, to make him happy. But now, I couldn't even summon the energy to open my mouth. Without saying a word or looking back, I turned and walked away.

It was the first time I had ever walked away from Adrian like that, and it took him a second to process it.

"Crazy woman," he muttered under his breath as I left.

I didn't respond. I didn't even feel the need to explain. My heart, which was once shattered at every harsh word from him, now felt nothing at all.

And so, I left the restaurant, grabbed a taxi, and went straight home. Adrian didn't return until one in the morning. Even across the living room, I could smell the perfume clinging to him: Dior Hypnotic Poison, the one Clara always wore.

The familiar itch returned to my hands, and I stood up, heading for the bedroom to escape the scent. But Adrian blocked my way. "Emily, is this how you behave? All my high school friends were at dinner, and you just left without saying a word. Where's your sense of decency? How do you expect me to save face?"

Before, I would have bent backward for Adrian, always putting his reputation first. Even when, during a drinking game, he joked, "Emily never gets drunk. With her here, I'm guaranteed to win."

I'd drink until I was on the verge of throwing up so that he wouldn't lose.

But not tonight.

I didn't even bother to attend the post-dinner activities, much less make excuses to his friends when I left.

When Adrian confronted me, I casually brushed him off. "I wasn't feeling well."

Realizing I might be on my period, his face softened lightly as he put his things down.

"I'll make you some tea," he said before heading to the kitchen.

He put a clay pot on the stove and then went to the study room. By the time the water had boiled dry and the smell of burning filled the kitchen, he still hadn't returned.

I turned off the stove just as Adrian emerged from the study and started cursing at me. "Emily, are you insane? How do you even manage to burn water? Might as well burn that stupid brain while you're at it!"

He looked down at the scattered soot on the stove's surface, and his face twisted in disgust. "Clean it up. That kind of filth breeds bacteria! Fucking hell, it makes me sick!"

I didn't even flinch. I stopped midway, brushed past him, and half-heartedly responded, "We're out of supplies. Call the cleaning service."

For ten years, I scrubbed that stove spotless.

But this time?

I didn't even bother to lift a damn finger.

Perhaps worried that the bacteria from the kitchen would somehow spread to every corner of the house, Adrian decided not to stay home that night. Before, Adrian showed no interest in household matters as long as I cared for them. But this time was different.

To my surprise, he actually called a cleaning service just to deal with the kitchen and even sent me a message on WhatsApp:

'Emily, if you're not feeling well, just take a rest. I've hired cleaners to take care of it.'

In our eight years of marriage, our conversations had always been a one-sided stream of unread messages from me. Adrian would only reply on rare occasions as if it were a privilege he granted to me. And whenever he did respond, it would be just a few lines. It felt like a small victory to me before.

I would then light up, chatting eagerly as though we were still in the honeymoon stage of our relationship, hanging on to every word as if nothing had changed. But this time, I glanced at the message with a sense of detachment, locked my phone screen, and didn't reply.

Later that evening, when Adrian returned, I ate takeout at the dining table. He didn't try to hide his disdain as he gave me a sharp look.

His eyes moved from the takeout container to me, and without a hint of patience, he snapped out, "Emily, you'll eat just about anything, won't you?"

Without waiting to explain, he took the takeout container from my hands and tossed it into the trash can outside the door. Then, he pulled out a polished thermos and set it on the dining table more carefully.

"Here. Eat this instead," he said.

Before I could open it, he tossed something else into my lap.

It was a hand cream.

"I had someone pick this up abroad. It's supposed to be really effective."

I glanced at the packaging, unimpressed, and put the cream back on the table.

My voice was calm as I said, "No thanks. I can't use something that expensive."

That set him off.

Then and there, Adrian leaned over the table, irritation flashing across his face as he lashed out, "Emily, stop acting like you're doing me a favor! It's just a tie, for god's sake! If it's ruined, buy a new one. Why are you making a big deal out of it?"

"No, I'm not," I honestly replied, which only caused him to scoff.

"You're not? Then why won't you take the gift? Why do you look like you're jealous again? Come on, Emily! You're already thirty. Do you really think you can still compete with women in their twenties?"

It wasn't the first time he had thrown my age in my face. He often compared me to Clara, who was only two years younger than me.

In frustration, I confronted him, tears brimming in my eyes as I demanded an answer.

"What are you trying to say, Adrian? That I'm old and washed up? Clara is more attractive since she's younger and prettier, huh? Are you planning to divorce me and marry her instead?"

I used to cling to him, desperately trying to get an explanation as if my entire life depended on his answer.

But all I ever got in return were more insults.

"Emily, how someone as petty and narrow-minded as you made it this far is beyond me. Would you still be around if I had something going on with Clara? Stop using that stupid brain of yours to obsess over her. You make me sick!"

That's how it always ended.

Any conversation about me disgusted him.

So, when he spat out his insults this time, I didn't argue back. I didn't feel the need to fight. My heart was eerily calm, like the stillness of a quiet lake.

Without a word, I slowly rolled up my sleeves, revealing patches of red, irritated skin and peeling.

I met his eyes steadily and said, "I'm allergic to the ingredients in that hand cream. How am I supposed to use it?"

The room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence, the only sound being our shallow breathing. Finally, Adrian poured the clam chowder from the thermos into a bowl and smoothly slid it across the table to me.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he muttered, "Just eat first. I'll get you something else later."

As I stared down at the bowl, memories I had tried to bury came flooding back.

It was about half a year ago when I caught COVID virus for the second time. My entire body ached, fever burning through me, and I could barely move. I had weakly asked Adrian to hand me a thermometer.

But I was too weak. The mercury thermometer slipped out of my hand and shattered on the floor.

Without a second thought, Adrian grabbed Clara by the hand and rushed into the kitchen, locking the glass door behind them.

He yelled at me, covering his nose, "Emily, are you that stupid?! That's mercury! Do you even understand how toxic that is? Why aren't you cleaning it? Forget it. Just clean it up! I'm taking Clara out of here so she doesn't inhale the fumes."

Clara, visibly shaken, pointed at the dining table, her voice trembling. "Adrian, what about my clam chowder?"

Adrian didn't hesitate as he gently ushered her out the door, his voice softening. "Sniffles, don't worry about it. You've been breaking out in rashes from allergies lately, anyway. Seafood has a high allergen. Don't eat it. Leave it for Emily to eat."

But what Adrian didn't know was that I was already covered in rashes. My entire body had broken out due to the fever.

The screech of my chair against the floor brought me back to the present.

I stood up, my voice eerily calm, and said, "No need. I'm full."

With those words, I quickly turned and proceeded toward the elevator. In the past, Adrian never bothered to ask where I was going when I left.

However, on this particular day, he unexpectedly started following me and questioned, "Emily, where are you going? I'll drive you there."

While still covered in red, peeling skin, I raised my hand and gave him a sharp look. "Still want to?"

I had thought that would be enough to stop him from following me, but to my surprise, he stepped into the elevator with me.

He instinctively kept his distance, avoiding my hands, holding his breath slightly as he muttered, "I'm heading to the office, anyway. I'll drop you at the hospital."

I didn't bother to reply.

When we reached the underground garage, I climbed into the back seat of his Rolls Royce without a word.

He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, surprised. "You're not sitting in front?"

Back then, I would insist on sitting in the front and going out of my way to remove anything in the car that reminded me of Clara.

But today, none of those trinkets or memories seemed to matter anymore.

"It doesn't make a difference. Just drop me at the hospital entrance," I said flatly.

Adrian didn't respond, though I noticed his knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel.

When we finally got to the hospital, Adrian followed me into the dermatology department, even though he said he had work to do. But as soon as we walked in, Clara's custom ringtone started playing. Her tearful voice filled the air as she said, "Adrian, I broke the thermometer! What do I do? The house is filled with mercury! Am I going to die from poisoning?"

Adrian covered the phone's receiving speaker, and his pleading gaze fell on me. "Emily, something urgent came up at the company. I need to go."

I could hear the guilt in his voice, but I pretended not to notice and replied indifferently, "Go ahead."

"Alright, after seeing the doctor, go home and wait for me. I'll come back to accompany you once I've finished at work."

As he spoke, he was already halfway out of the examination room in a hurry.

Then, Adrian's anxious voice echoed down the hallway, making its way back to my ears. "Clara, don't worry. Just leave the house and wait for me outside in the hallway. Be good, and don't do anything. I'll handle it personally. Mercury is extremely toxic."

I ignored his comforting words to Clara, my attention fully drawn to the doctor standing before me. "Mrs. Reed, your condition is quite unique, and there are a lot of medications we can't use right now. I'll prescribe something without steroids for now, but you need to go home, rest, and take good care of yourself. We'll also need to monitor your condition closely."

Still confused and a bit overwhelmed, I asked, "Doc, what exactly is wrong with me?"

The doctor looked at me with some surprise. "You've been pregnant for over a month now. You didn't know?"

I stared at him, equally shocked. Adrian has severe OCD and finds intimacy repulsive. As a result, he's barely touched me in the eight years we've been married.

Suddenly, a memory resurfaced. Last month, during Adrian's grandmother's birthday banquet, he drank far too much while covering for Clara, who was on her period.

That night, he held me all night, but in his drunken passion, he kept calling out, "Clara, Clara..."

That memory was still cut deep in me. Heartbroken, I had left in the middle of the night, avoiding confrontation with Adrian. I had buried the incident deep in my mind, and he never mentioned it again. But here we were. What I didn't expect was that the one time we had sex this year would result in pregnancy.

Feeling the warmth of my hand resting protectively over my abdomen, I quietly decided not to take any medication.

The next time I saw Adrian was a week later.

It was the company's anniversary celebration, and as the boss's wife, I was expected to give a speech on stage.

But when I arrived at the venue, I found Adrian standing with his arm wrapped tightly around Clara's waist, casually announcing to everyone, "From now on, Clara will be my secretary. Every company matter, big or small, must go through her before it gets to me."

Someone from the crowd spoke up, breaking the awkward silence. "Mr. Reed, wasn't Miss Emily handling those projects before?"

Hearing this, Adrian's face immediately darkened, and without hesitation, he snapped, "How can someone as stupid as her get approval for major projects?!"

The entire room fell silent, his harsh words hanging in the air. I slowly clapped my hands, the sound drawing all eyes toward me. I could see pity in their gazes, but I remained calm under the weight of their stares. Without a word, I removed my work badge and placed it on the dining table before me.

My voice was steady as I spoke, "In that case, I'll step down and let Miss Bennett take over. Congratulations on your promotion."

Adrian's eyes grew colder, his expression hardening. "Emily, have you completely lost your mind?"

"I'm not crazy." My calm and straightforward response irritated him even more.

"Fine! If you've got the guts, go to HR right now and resign!" he shouted.

I turned to leave, but Clara grabbed me by the arm before I could take a step.

Her voice was thick with fake concern as she said, "Emily, please don't jeopardize the company's future because of me."

A thermometer slipped under her arm as she spoke, shattering on the floor and spilling mercury across the floor, splashing onto my feet. Panic surged through me, and I immediately kicked off my heels, terrified for the baby inside me. I wanted to wash the area as quickly as possible.

But before I could move, Clara yanked my arm back with all her strength, causing me to lose my balance and fall hard to the ground.

Adrian instinctively reached out to catch me, but Clara cried dramatically, "Oh no, Adrian!"

Suddenly, Adrian pulled back and rushed to support Clara instead, leaving me to hit the floor. My palm landed on the broken shards of the thermometer, and I felt the sharp sting as blood began to drip from the fresh cuts.

Before I could even register what had just happened, Adrian slapped me in the face. "Emily, how could you be so vicious?! You tried to hit Clara with your heel?!"

My cheek throbbed with pain, but I forced myself to hold back the tears.

I tried to defend myself, but my voice was calm but painful. "I didn't touch her."

But Adrian didn't hear a word I said. He didn't even glance at the blood pouring from my hand. Instead, he scooped Clara into his arms before everyone and stormed out of the banquet hall.

He threw one last cold remark over his shoulder as he walked away. "If anything happens to Clara, Emily, I will never forgive you."

I laughed bitterly. This is what they mean, then.

Adrian's treatment of me was evident to everyone in the room, yet no one intervened when he stated that laughing is the only option available to those who are truly silent.

I had no choice but to call 911 and wait for the ambulance alone.

…

On the way to the hospital, my phone rang. It was Sally, my best friend.

"Emily, I heard what happened at the company. Are you okay?"

The question broke me, and my tears suddenly poured out.

My voice cracked as I finally let it all out. "Sally, I'm going to divorce Adrian."

Sally didn't hesitate, her voice full of determination. "Emily, don't cry. If Reed Corp doesn't want you, I do! I've already booked you a flight out of the country for tomorrow. Pack your things and leave."

I wiped my tears, trying to pull myself together. "Sally, tomorrow might be too late."

She quickly asked, "What? Why not?"

"I'm pregnant with Adrian's child. But… I've been exposed to a lot of mercury." I replied hesitantly.

Sally's voice wavered as she started crying even harder than I did. "Oh my God, Emily. What are you going to do?"

I took a deep breath before responding, "I'll handle it, I promise. After everything is taken care of, I'll come and find you."

Before she could respond, I hung up the phone.

…

In the ambulance, the doctor frowned, confirming my worst fears. "Mrs. Reed, given the amount of mercury exposure, it's highly unlikely you'll be able to keep the baby. However, the hospital just informed me that there's a newborn in critical condition who urgently needs umbilical cord blood. If you've decided not to continue the pregnancy, would you consider donating the cord blood?"

I closed my eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

After a long pause, I responded, "I'll do it, but I have one condition."

The doctor nodded, ready to listen. "Of course. What is it?"

"I want the prenatal report, the abortion procedure, and the baby's remains sealed in a box. I need them sent out."

Focused on saving lives, the doctor agreed without hesitation.

And so the procedure didn't take long. When I woke up in the hospital, I immediately contacted my divorce attorney. I instructed him to compute every marital asset Adrian and I had, ensuring I'd get the best possible settlement.

After everything was finalized, I headed to the airport and mailed the divorce papers and the sealed box from the doctor to Adrian.

Just before takeoff, my phone rang. Adrian's name flashed across the screen repeatedly, his desperate calls coming in like the relentless tolling of a death knell.