As on most nights, the dining table was filled with neatly arranged dishes. Thin wisps of steam rose slowly, filling the room with a warm, soothing aroma.
Arin had just turned off the stove for the last dish when her phone vibrated on the kitchen counter.
She remained standing there, her gaze pausing as her aunt's name appeared on the screen.
Arin frowned. A sense of unease settled instantly in her chest. That woman had no reason to call. That family never appeared without bringing trouble to dump on her shoulders.
She let the phone vibrate for a few seconds longer, as if hoping the call would disappear on its own.
Even though she knew it would not.
With a short breath, Arin answered.
Before she could even speak, a panicked voice rushed into her ear.
"Your father was just taken to the police station!"
For a moment, the kitchen felt unbearably quiet.
Hearing the word father alone was enough to drag Arin back to memories she wanted buried deep. Memories of a man who loved to hurt, then walked away without looking back when she needed protection the most. Now he had surfaced again, as always, bringing the one thing that never changed: trouble.
Seconds passed without a reaction. Arin did not ask questions, nor did she cry. What she felt was neither sadness nor pity, but a sharp sense of dread that left her frozen.
Her mind fixated on one thing. If this leaked and became public gossip, it would not only drag her name down, but destroy everything she had built with such painstaking effort.
Arin ended the call without a word. Her trembling hands untied the apron from her waist and dropped it carelessly onto the kitchen table.
Unwilling to waste time, she hurried toward the bedroom. Her steps faltered briefly, but she did not stop.
She grabbed her coat from the hanger and slipped it on.
Before Arin could step out, the bedroom door flew open with a loud bang.
Ryan stood in the doorway, his face tight, his breath uneven. A crumpled brown envelope was clenched in his hand, one Arin did not need to ask about to know what it contained.
Without preamble, Ryan open the envelope, pulled out a sheet of paper, and shoved it directly in front of her face.
DIVORCE PAPER. The bold letters at the top were unmistakable.
"Sign this right now!" Ryan snapped.
Arin let out a slow breath and rolled her eyes tiredly. "Darling," she said softly, almost without emotion. "I do not have time for this right now," she added as she straightened her coat.
She walked out of the bedroom, passing Ryan as if he were not there. Her hand swiftly grabbed her car keys and phone from the dining table.
"Where are you going?!" Ryan shouted after her.
"We will talk about this later. Okay?" Arin replied without turning around. A gentle smile curved her lips, her expression calm, almost unnervingly so, as if the exchange were nothing more than a minor interruption.
Before Arin could reach the doorknob, Ryan grabbed her arm and yanked her back.
"Are you going to see your father?"
Arin's body stiffened instantly, her face draining of color. It was a reaction that had not even surfaced when the divorce papers were shoved at her. "How... how do you know?" Her voice weakened without her realizing it.
"Why?" Ryan grinned. "You have been so busy hiding it. So you are surprised I know now?"
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. His gaze was sharp and cold.
"Was this your doing?" Arin asked, her voice trembling, though her eyes remained steady.
"Yes," Ryan answered without hesitation. "I did it." There was clear satisfaction in his tone.
"Are you insane?" Arin stepped forward, her jaw tightening. "If this becomes public, it will not just be me—"
"I don't care!" Ryan shouted. His voice echoed, shattering the calm that had lingered moments ago. "Besides, today I am divorcing you no matter what. So sign it now!"
Ryan yanked Arin's arm roughly, dragging her back inside. Her car keys and phone slipped from her grip and fell to the floor. Shoes that had been neatly lined by the door were now scattered by their struggle.
In a surge of emotion, Ryan swept the dining table clean. Plates and food flew through the air and crashed onto the floor, shattering with a deafening sound.
"Let go!" Arin struggled. "I said let go!"
In the chaos, Arin summoned all her strength. Her small frame twisted and fought, desperately trying to break free.
Without intending to, her flailing hand struck Ryan's cheek hard.
The sound of the slap plunged the room into sudden silence.
"How dare you—"
"Get a grip!" Arin cut him off. Her breath was ragged, her chest rising and falling unevenly. "Does your mother know what you are doing to me right now?"
She stared at Ryan without fear. "I already warned her. I am sure I explained what would happen if you forced me to divorce!"
Ryan ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "What exactly do you have that makes you this unyielding?"
Arin smirked. "Ask your mother." Her gaze was icy, devoid of even a trace of warmth. "I will never divorce you. Never. I will not let myself fall alone."
She bent down, picked up her keys and phone from the floor, then walked away without looking back.
The door slammed shut behind her, leaving its echo in a house that had been torn apart.
Ryan stood in the living room, his hand raking through his hair in a rough motion.
He pulled out his phone without hesitation, his finger pressing a name he had called far too many times that day. His breathing was heavy, his chest heaving, as if all his fury was ready to spill out the moment the line connected.
"How can that woman be so damn confident?!" he barked the instant the call went through. His jaw clenched, veins bulging in his neck, his face flushed with unspent rage.
On the other end, his mother's voice was calm, a stark contrast to his state. "Did you ask her for a divorce again?" she asked. "I told you not to."
Ryan dragged a hand down his face roughly and began pacing back and forth. His grip on the phone tightened. "What exactly does she have that makes you keep indulging her?" His voice rose, laced with irritation and confusion.
Silence filled the line for a moment before his mother spoke again. "For now, calm yourself. I will handle it."
Ryan stopped pacing. "Handle it?" He let out a short, humorless laugh. "That woman truly has no shame."
"Ryan, listen to me." Her tone shifted, lower and more commanding. "Go back to the office right now. Make sure people see you there. As many as possible."
Ryan frowned. "What are you going to do?"
"Just follow my instructions," she replied curtly. "I will take care of that woman."
Ryan slowly lowered his phone.
The house fell silent once more, but the remaining stillness felt wrong, as if something were being set in motion behind the scenes, moving without sound, waiting for the right moment to surface.
To be continued