Revenge to The Devil

"Did you come back to get a divorce?" he asked.

"If you think I am here to kill you, then think that way," I said.

I opened the door and the early autumn wind chilled my burning body. I shivered in the wind.

"I'd rather want you to come back to kill me," he said, his voice was colder than the wind, which was not cold, but desolate.

"Desiree!" he called me as gently as ever, but I pretended not to hear him, walking quickly towards the bright hotel door.

"Desiree Li, come her I tell you, " I heard him say.

I tried again and again, but I couldn't help turning around slowly. Still, I could not resist and slowly turned around.

As he stepped out of the car, the wind blew his shirt and slightly unkempt hair as though it had blown away his pride and momentum.

"Divorce... " he clasped the fingers slowly, between which was the burning cigarette and shouted, "No way!"

I understood him well, and I knew he wouldn't divorce me. It was not that he didn't want to, but because it had to come from his side.

"Why?" I gnawed my teeth, but my grievance came out, "Jonathan Li, damn it, you are a demon, what right do you have to say that to me?"

Before he could speak, I raised my voice and shouted, "I've known you for thirteen years. Have you ever asked about my thoughts? You do everything you want: you killed my parents, you adopted me; you occupied me and you left me; you loved me when it delighted you to do so, and you hated me when you were in a bad mood; you imprison me with your lust and you drove me away when you deserted me; you married me..." I went on and on.

When I turned around, my sexy, black heels had caused me to twist my ankle again. I took them off angrily and threw them into the road, and walked smoothly into the bright hotel lobby, leaving him in the dark, cold street!

As soon as I entered the elevator, I kept pressing the button to go to the twentieth floor, for fear that I would choose the ground button and confess to him. What I was concerned about most was that I didn't say, "How could you break up with me?"

I would rather not love him and forget him, but when people chased after me, I was used to refusing them, saying, "I am married."

Thinking of my ridiculous husband, I realized that: He hadn't fulfilled his obligations of being a husband, except making love to me. Although our marriage was almost over, we still had a marriage certificate. Even though he deserted me, he deprived me of the right to love others arbitrarily. I didn't care. It wasn't his fault. The reason that I came back was not to get a divorce.

But he was so overbearing that even I, who had been accustomed to it, was irritated with him. Why would he rather arrange for a waiter to hand me a note than come to me and say, "Shall we have dinner together?"

What I asked for was not much, only for him to call me, 'dear wife', was enough when I arrived. I was satisfied when I felt his love. I would embrace him innocently, telling him, "I've been fine for these two years. Thank you for giving me freedom." Then, I would leave smiling about the marriage, which began when I was an eighteen-year-old right up until the age of eighty.

Eventually, I reached the twentieth floor. I was about to open the coded lock, and Irene opened it for me.

"Desiree? What's the matter?" she asked.

I touched my face, "Nothing, the wind was violent," I said.

She nodded and handed the phone to me and said, "Shawn has called you several times to affirm your safety."