Before I had a chance to answer, she ended the call.
Quickly, I wiped away my tears, asked my boss for leave, and hurried to the City Hall by taxi.
While riding there, I called Waylon.
We were in the same company, though we worked in separate departments. He had been tied up with a big project recently, often working late and sleeping in the office so he wouldn’t disturb my rest.
When he heard my shaky voice, he spoke gently, “I’m already heading to the City Hall. Don’t worry, wait there for me.”
From our school days to our wedding, Waylon and I had always been together, our interests matched, and our bond grew.
Four years of dating and three years of marriage, we supported and understood one another.
Hearing his calm tone felt like a dose of comfort.
Not long after I ended the call, I reached the City Hall. From far away, my mother’s voice already echoed through the hall, bothering the staff nonstop.
“Aren’t you supposed to handle marriage problems for regular people? I already said it, my younger daughter cheated! She shamelessly messed around with a group of men! And you still refuse to process her divorce?”