Even from the backseat, I could tell from the reflection in the rearview mirror that Vincent seemed to be in a good mood.
"Could you turn up the temperature? I'm allergic to pollen, and the cold makes it worse," I said.
Vincent silently handed me a tissue packet.
Vincent and I had known each other since childhood. We dated for four years and were married for seven, so he knew well that I wasn't actually allergic to pollen.
"Mia."
"Mr. Dent, please call me Ms. Miller."
"Alright, Ms. Miller. I'll handle informing both our families about the divorce."
Vincent always liked to take on all matters related to me, and this was no exception.
But he wasn't always this way.
As a child, Vincent was small, skinny, and shy.
He was constantly bullied in kindergarten.
I, on the other hand, was outgoing and, driven by my youthful sense of justice, could be quite a troublemaker.
Because his mother always prepared delicious treats for me, I felt obligated to look out for him.
One day, I climbed up to the kindergarten's PA system and announced to the entire school, "Vincent is under my protection."
This was how Vincent made it through his kindergarten years, eventually growing up to become the handsome, popular guy in high school.
Back then, I thought of Vincent as my sworn brother. He used to pester me daily to help him with math, insisting that we should go to the same university.
Eventually, I did as he wished and ended up at the same college as him.
He became the campus heartthrob at Arora University and turned into my biggest obstacle in love.
No matter how attractive or outgoing I was, and despite having countless friends, no guy ever approached me, let alone confessed his feelings.
On graduation day, Vincent took me to the university's science museum.
He had his friends in the student council turn off all the lights in the building, leaving only a breathtaking view of the universe illuminated just for us.
He held my hand, and I could feel his palms sweating.
"Mia, will you marry me? I swear on my life that I'll always treat you well."
At that moment, I didn't hesitate.
But now, facing Vincent, I refuse without a second thought.
"Mr. Dent, that's my business, so you don't need to worry about it. I'll handle it."
My overly polite and distant tone made Vincent's brows furrow in confusion.
After a brief silence in the car, he asked, half-smiling, "So, how do you plan to explain this to your parents?"