"Arthur, can you stop sending me useless stuff? If you really want to make me happy, just go get the divorce papers signed."
I was taken aback.
For a while now, Ariana had been trying to get me to divorce her.
It was all because of her childhood friend, Marvin, who was dying from heart failure.
Before he passed, Marvin wanted to marry Ariana, and she had agreed.
She insisted it was a fake divorce, promising to come back for the marriage license once Marvin was gone.
But I had refused.
Ariana had been sulking ever since.
I took a deep breath, pushing down the bitterness rising in me.
"Ariana, do you remember what day it is today?"
I thought she might feel something on this special day, but her response was unexpected.
"Marvin, you... oh, you're pulling my hair!"
"Where? Let me see..."
Ariana's playful reprimand was mixed with a man's voice—Marvin's.
My blood boiled.
"Ariana, are you with Marvin right now?"
I ground my teeth, feeling the veins in my hand pulse dangerously.
She sounded irritated. "Why are you yelling?
"Isn't Marvin in late-stage heart failure? I moved him to a VIP room at our hospital to make him more comfortable, and I thought I might as well take care of him."