Bar Encounter: The Ex-Husband Regret

I am Harold's wife, a product of a marriage alliance.

Rumor has it, he's found himself another girlfriend.

I saw her once; she bears an uncanny resemblance to his ill-fated first love.

This time, I'm exhausted, so I asked for a divorce.

With the divorce, I could get half of his assets, which makes it easier to bear.

That day, Harold was at a bar, flaunting his new girlfriend.

He caught sight of me at the next booth, sitting on another man's lap, drinking.

He lost his temper, wrecking the bar in a fit of rage.

His eyes were bloodshot as he demanded, "Who is he?"

"He's my boyfriend."

"Elsie, then who am I?"

"You're my husband."

Kevan, who was beside us, chuckled and corrected me, "Husband during the divorce cooling-off period, more like an ex-husband!"

1

Even a marriage of convenience faces challenges over time.

Harold and I were victims of the alliance between the Ward Family and the Oliver Family.

Right after we got married, he laid down three rules.

"First, don't interfere with my affairs outside."

"Second, if any woman causes trouble at home, you're responsible for handling it."

"Third, always be on my side."

These rules sounded quite harsh at first.

But on second thought, they weren't that bad.

In the capital city, which wealthy and powerful young man isn't immersed in a world of indulgence?

Seven years ago, the Ward Family faced a major crisis.

My two uncles mismanaged the business, causing a financial breakdown.

Only the Oliver Family was willing to inject capital into the Ward Group in the form of a bride price, acquiring a 10% stake in return.

So, I married him as a bargaining chip.

When I first married him, I was only 20, utterly clueless about marriage.

Later, I learned from others that his first love died the year we got married.

After the wedding, Harold treated me well-considerate, wealthy, and responsible.

For the first three years, I truly fell in love with him.

He could casually buy me a sapphire necklace I mentioned liking or arrange a private jet to take me to see the Northern Lights when I expressed a desire to see them.

When I fell ill, he dropped everything to fly back from abroad to be with me.

During those three years, he spoiled me to the point of naivety, making me believe he loved me to the core, completely forgetting the pre-marital rules.

Until the first incident occurred.

At a party, I attended in a custom-made dress worth tens of thousands, holding Harold's arm.

As people around us called me "Mrs. Oliver," Harold suddenly left my side to approach someone else.

He maintained his composure, but I knew he was flustered.

He stopped in front of a woman, and I followed his gaze.

She looked strikingly like Harold's first love, Erika.

I didn't know Erika, had never even met her, but I remembered her name deeply.

Harold smiled faintly as he chatted with this woman, and soon they left together.

All eyes turned to me, as if waiting for me to make a fool of myself.

I swallowed my bitterness and anger, forcing a smile to explain for him.

"My husband must have found someone he knows..."

After dealing with the curious onlookers, I fled to the restroom.

I called Harold countless times, but his phone was off.

When I got home, I smashed everything-his gifts, the masterpieces, the wine we chose together, the custom sofa...

He didn't return that night, and I sat alone until dawn.

2

After that, the woman was always by Harold's side, regardless of the occasion.

Having been loved, how could I accept all this?

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

In public, I slapped her, and Harold pushed me away, coldly reminding me, "Elsie, have you forgotten the pre-marital rules?"

I argued with him, my eyes red and heartbroken, only for him to say, "We're just in a marriage of convenience. If you can't accept it, we can divorce."

At that moment, my heart died.

I stopped crying, fleeing in disgrace.

The Ward Family needed the Oliver Family; I couldn't divorce him.

Later, he changed women one after another, each more like Erika than the last.

When his friends told me, I was already numb.

I withdrew from the social circle of the capital city's wealthy wives, living as the nominal Mrs. Oliver at home.

Once, he came home before ten, which surprised me.

I guessed he had a fight with his mistress and, unable to get his way, returned home.

After finishing my evening skincare routine, I was reading in bed.

He showered and climbed into bed, the cloying scent of perfume clinging to him, making me nauseous.

I closed my book, subtly pushing him away, intending to go to the study.

But he pulled me back into bed.

He pinned me down, holding my wrists in his large hands, teasingly asking, "What?

Elsie, you enjoy the joint property but don't want to fulfill your marital duties?"

I looked at him blankly, unable to resist a jab.

"Did your little mistress have her time of the month?

Can't serve you? "

"If she can't even handle that, why keep her around? Better replace her sooner!"

Mentioning the other woman made Harold's expression turn irritable.

"We've broken up. Don't bring it up again."

I snorted softly, knowing it was true.

But I no longer believed his words. Today he broke up, tomorrow there'd be another Erika lookalike in his arms.

I pulled my hand free, my fingers lightly tracing from his cheek to his Adam's apple, finally resting on the glaring red mark on his chest.

"Your little mistress must be a cat, scratching you even after breaking up. Impressive."

Harold grabbed my hand again, my veiled sarcasm testing his patience.

His kiss landed harshly, his warm breath brushing against my collarbone.

I closed my eyes, enduring his punishing advances.

I couldn't cling to his neck and beg like before, whispering sweet nothings to please us both.

Instead, there was only pain and helplessness. I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound.

Seeing my reluctance to respond, he grew more aggressive.

Until I bit my lip hard enough to bleed, he lost interest and ended it abruptly.

He turned away, falling into a deep sleep.

I got up, went to the kitchen, took some medicine with water, and sat in the living room, unable to sleep.

3

In less than a month, Harold had a new lover by his side.

Her name was Corrine, and I remembered it clearly this time. Why?

Because she was Erika's half-sister.

Her resemblance to Erika was uncanny, more so than any of the previous stand-ins. Her every gesture seemed to bring Erika back to life.

This time, Harold's antics made everyone, including me, take a second look at Corrine.

She was preparing to enter the entertainment industry from abroad, and Harold bought several shopping mall screens to play her promotional video 24/7.

He took her to every event with media exposure.

Newspapers and trending headlines were filled with stories about him and Corrine.

"Mr. Oliver and the rising star Corrine rumored to be in a passionate romance."

"A powerful business tycoon in the city spends millions to promote the rising star Corrine."

When I went to the club to find him, he was partying with friends, and Corrine wasn't there.

"Mr. Oliver, aren't you going a bit overboard this time? Aren't you afraid the one at home will cause a major fallout?"

He smoked leisurely, a careless smile on his face. "Cause a major fallout?

Does she have the leverage to do that?

The Ward Family is heavily reliant on the Oliver Group. Elsie has to think about her family's survival before causing any trouble."

I recalled the only time we had a fight, and I ran back to the Ward Family.

My parents had passed away early, and my two uncles treated me well, while my aunts treated me like their own daughter.

That night was my most vulnerable. I sobbed into my aunt's arms, pouring out my grievances.

But my uncles scolded me for being immature, for embarrassing Harold in front of outsiders, and for bringing shame to both families.

Even my loving second aunt advised me that men often behave this way, and as long as my position as Mrs. Oliver wasn't threatened, there was no need to make a scene.

The next day, they sent a driver to take me back to the Oliver Family.

"One is flamboyantly beautiful, the other serene and elegant. Ah, Mr. Oliver is truly lucky to have both."

"I thought you were quite fond of Elsie during those three years after you got married. I even thought you had changed your ways..."

He stubbed out his cigarette, his expression obscured by smoke.

"Three years was more than enough. Wouldn't you get tired of it too?"

Everyone present understood. It wasn't that he was tired; it was that the memory of his first love had been rekindled in his heart.

Even though I had mentally prepared myself, hearing these words still caused a dull ache in my heart.

4

I pushed the door open and entered, a calm smile on my face.

His friends looked at me in surprise; it had been at least three or four years since I last appeared at their gatherings.

I placed the divorce papers in front of him and spoke calmly.

"These are the divorce papers. We split the assets and cash equally. You can have a lawyer review it. Just sign it and give it back to me."

Harold and I had signed a prenuptial agreement, making the Oliver Family's company shares and real estate indivisible. The only assets I could claim were the liquid funds under Harold's name.

Harold's face turned dark with anger, and I stood there, waiting for him to sign.

The atmosphere was tense, and his friends tried to lighten the mood with jokes.

"Come on, sis-in-law, don't joke like that. Mr. Oliver is just having fun with those women. None of them last more than three months. Corrine has commercial value, so Mr. Oliver is just a bit more invested..."

He slammed his glass down on the table, spilling the amber liquid onto the divorce papers.

I couldn't tell if he was angry because someone linked his lover to commercial value or because I embarrassed him by bringing divorce papers.

I retrieved the now-stained divorce papers from the table.

It seemed today wasn't the day for signatures.

"I'll wait for you at home."

I declined their attempts to persuade me to stay and left directly.

"She's just throwing a tantrum. She wants you to spend more time at home with her."

"Indeed, you went too far with Corrine this time. The young lady has her pride too..."

Their words seemed to soften Harold's expression, and he let out a mocking laugh. "Young lady?

She's 27 and should know better than to act like a child, using divorce as a tantrum."

"Ah, Mr. Oliver, women appreciate being treated well. Even if you want to play outside, you need to keep the one at home happy to enjoy yourself."

With that, Harold paused, as if he had taken their words to heart.

He grabbed his coat from the sofa, ready to leave.

The screen lit up with a new Whatsapp message.

"Harold, I've reprinted the divorce papers and left them in the study. The house is yours; I'll take the car. Sign them, and I'll come back."

After reading the message, he closed his eyes, feeling like his chest was about to explode.

In a fit of rage, he hurled his phone against the wall, startling everyone.

I stood in the corridor, hearing the loud crash from the room, paused for a moment, and then left without looking back.

5

I returned to the villa, ready to pack away the remnants of seven years of my life.

Two suitcases sufficed to carry away seven years of memories and belongings.

I chose to leave behind the jewelry and gifts, symbols of a past life.

I only took the items I frequently used and wore.

I relocated to the villa in the southern part of the city, a fresh start gifted by my uncles.

I found solace in waking early to nurture the garden's flowers and plants, where I had planted a large patch of roses.

The Oliver Family's garden was stark and barren, a sharp contrast to my flourishing roses. I had once planted some flowers there, but Harold had them removed, citing a pollen allergy, though the flowers were a cherished part of my life.

I embarked on a creative journey, founding a design studio with my college best friend, taking on projects and designing on my own. Over four years, I saved nearly a million.

If only Harold would sign the divorce papers, freeing me from judgment and granting peace.

A few days later, a call from the Barton Family's old house disrupted my calm life.

Standing outside the old house, I was torn between gratitude and apprehension towards the Oliver Family.

Harold was a jerk, but his family had always been kind to me, and I couldn't bring myself to speak.

Upon entering, Marlee was overjoyed, "Elsie, you're here!

Emily, prepare the meal!"

Marlee warmly clasped my hand, engaging in the comforting rhythm of everyday chatter. As we walked into the living room, I saw Harold lounging there, watching TV.

At the dining table, Marlee placed a piece of fish in my bowl, "You both are at the perfect age to start a family!" So, they were urging us to have a baby.

Unfortunately, Harold and I were already over.

Harold smiled, "Well, I've been busy with work in the first half of the year. We can plan for a baby in the second half."

I glanced at him; he didn't seem to be joking.

I had no energy left to decipher his intentions, my mind set on leaving.

Before leaving, Marlee pulled me aside and spoke earnestly, "Harold has indeed gone too far recently. His father has already reprimanded him. Don't worry, Elsie, I'll personally deal with that woman."

I could only nod in agreement.

I left with Harold in his car.

On the way back, I asked him, "Harold, how do you plan to prepare for a baby?"

What I meant was, he should hurry up and sign the divorce papers. Once we're divorced, he can plan for a baby with whomever he wants.

He closed his eyes slightly, his lips barely moving, "Of course, with you."

I recalled the countless times over the past four years when I had begged him to have a child with me.

I had foolishly thought a child could bind us together, but now it just seemed ridiculous.

"Harold, I'm not a pet waiting for you to come home."

"I've resolved to divorce you; having your child is out of the question."

"Perhaps your girlfriends can fulfill your paternal ambitions."

He grabbed my chin, his eyes filled with anger, "Elsie!

I've spoiled you too much. How dare you speak to me like this?"

He kissed me with an unwelcome force, leaving no room for resistance, his tongue ravaging like a storm, stealing all my breath. I bit his lip until it bled.

He released me in pain, looking at me with a dark gaze.

"Get out of the car!"

I didn't hesitate and got out immediately.

Being alone with him in a confined space felt suffocating.

6

The autumn wind carried a chill that dried my eyes, causing tears to fall like heavy raindrops.

I couldn't walk any further, so I stopped and let out all the grievances in my heart.

The wind carried raindrops that hit my face.

The rain mixed with my tears, washing away all my worries.

An umbrella suddenly sheltered me, a surprising shield against the wind and rain.

I turned around and saw Kevan.

He was Garrett's son, and when my father was alive, he was closest to Garrett. Kevan and I shared a bond of friendship, rooted in family ties and shared history.

He went abroad at sixteen, and by the time he returned, I was already married.

His face was etched with concern as he gently helped me to my feet, "Elsie, after all these years, is this what you've become?"

My eyes were red, and the cold wind had turned my nose a pale pink. My porcelain-white face was streaked with tears.

I took the tissue from his hand and wiped away my tears.

His suit jacket, warm and comforting, enveloped me like a protective cocoon.

I was only wearing a thin black dress, having left my coat in Harold's car.

His jacket brought warmth from the outside in.

"Kevan, I'm sorry you had to witness me in such a state."

He said nothing, just pulled me into his embrace with one arm and then got into the car.

He drove me back to the villa in the south of the city. After getting out, I politely asked him,

"Would you care to join me inside for a warm cup of tea?"

I thought he would refuse, being a busy man. I had overheard him on the phone in the car, saying he had urgent business at the company.

He raised an eyebrow and accepted.

"Sure, I'd love to try your tea."

I dedicated myself to managing a tea estate in the countryside, learning from a master tea picker for years and even earning a senior tea artist certification.

I had posted on Facebook, and Kevan had liked and commented, "When I return, I'll have to taste the skills of the great tea artist Elsie."

By the time he returned, I had been married to Harold for three months.

I smiled, "Alright, come in. I'll make some tea."

Today, the tea, long overdue by seven years, would finally be savored.