8
Then I tagged Friend #2.
【And you, remember to get a good video for me. We should all share in the joy.】
Friend #2 replied: [Zoe, we were just joking back then. If we hurt you, we’re really sorry!】
Friend #1 quickly added: 【Zoe, you never even call us by our names, and we’re not mad! Just let it go this one time! We know we were wrong!】
I had never liked Blake’s friends. They were all marri- ed, but they partied like single men, and were all unfaithful. Blake was actually the most decent one
among them.
Just then, Blake himself chimed in: 【Go take some laxatives and start filming! A man keeps his word!)
Friend #1 actually did it. Friend #2 actually filmed it.
And a video was actually posted in the group.
I wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t funny anymore.
The first victim of my divorce had appeared. It was Blake’s Friend #1. Blake cut off all business with him. Without Blake’s contracts. his company couldn’t surv-
Chapter 2
09:02
Without Blake’s contracts, his company couldn’t surv-
ive. It quickly went bankrupt.
Friend #2 was next. Almost the same story.
Finally, it was my best friend, Phoebe. One moment
she was celebrating her divorce, dating young mode-
ls, the next her company was in financial trouble.
When she found me, I was making pancakes at a
street stall. “Are you insane?” she demanded. “You
divorce Blake and now you’re working a food cart?
Are you looking for hardship?”
She mocked me first, then said, “Blake is completely
focused on his career now. He won’t let any woman
near him. If a business partner brings a woman to a
meeting, he refuses to work with them! His entire
secretarial staff is male. People are accusing him of
discrimination!”
“And why do you think that is?”
I was good at making pancakes. Blake loved them. He used to joke that if he ever went broke, I could support him with my pancake skills. The thin batter
sizzled in the hot oil.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because of you! Because you didn’t like him flirting
with other women, so he got rid of every woman
around him! Zoe, he loves you! After you divorced
him, he completely stopped his womanizing ways!”
“Oh, should I give him an award?”
I knew why Phoebe was here. She desperately want-
ed me to get back with Blake. It would save her co-
mpany.
Chapter 2
09:03
“Thanks, sweetie, I was about to burst!” The old wo- man who owned the stall came back. “Are these your pancakes? Oh, you did a wonderful job! Let me get them for you!” She packed up my pancakes, and see- ing Phoebe was my friend, she packed one for her, too.
Phoebe was shocked. “This isn’t your stall?”
I was shocked, too. “I have a billion dollars. As long as I don’t go on a crazy spending spree, I can just sit back and wait to die. Even if I did own a food stall, I wouldn’t have to work it myself.”
Phoebe was silent, looking me up and down. “You’ve changed. You’re more beautiful, more composed, more… elegant. You used to always look so tired.”
I used to. Blake would come home late, smelling of another woman’s perfume or with lipstick on his coll- ar. Or some woman who was after him would post a passive–aggressive story online. Luckily, my skin was thick, and my mind was clouded by his manipulation. I didn’t care that much. What I cared about was that our relationship was unequal. I was his accessory, with no name of my own. And he treated me like one, ordering me around.
I told Phoebe not to look for me again. I just wanted to be done with her. I’d wanted to do it for a long time.
“Why?” she asked, bewildered.
Just like she didn’t understand why I would divorce Blake when he hadn’t actually cheated on me.
“I wanted to be respected,” I said.
Phoebe th
Chapter 2
09:03
Phoebe thought I was naive. “If my husband gave me three million a month, I’d take care of his mistress while she was recovering from childbirth! We’re adul- ts. We’re not talking about love and respect anymore. You’re being so dramatic!”
But Blake and I had gotten together because of love. He had loved me, and he had respected me. Now he didn’t, so why should I endure it for the money? I didn’t have to. I divorced him, and I still had the mo-
ney.
I finished my pancake and reached the end of the night market. I saw a familiar figure.
Hannah was selling hot dogs, a baby strapped to her back. Our eyes met. She looked away, flustered. A
young man sat beside her, drinking beer and eating meat, cursing at her. “You should be grateful a guy
like me took you in! What decent man would want a
cocktail waitress? At least with me, you’re a respect-
able street vendor! What else are you going to do?”
Maybe my stare was too intense. Hannah straighten-
ed her back and walked over to me. “Are you here to
laugh at me? Are you happy to see me like this? What
‘s the difference between us, anyway? You don’t have
a degree or a career either!”
“You’re hilarious. You were never even a worthy opp-
onent. I never gave you a second thought. The fact
that you came over here to say this just proves how
insecure you are.”
