I Chose the Younger Version of My Husband

I unexpectedly received a call from ten years ago.

On the other end of the line, a young man's voice was bright and unrestrained, brimming with unconcealable excitement.

"Lyla, will we have a boy or a girl ten years from now?"

I held the phone, my fingertips icy cold, but my voice was unusually steady.

"You will have a son."

The young man on the phone made a soft "tsk" sound.

Then he drew out his tone, with a familiar, sticky, coquettish flavor.

"My dear Lyla, you mustn't love him more than you love me then."

Almost simultaneously.

Outside the hospital room door, a man in a well-tailored suit leaned against the wall.

A half-smoked cigarette was pinched between his fingers.

He glanced through the glass window at the faint figure inside the delivery room.

His tone was detached as he spoke.

"Honey, Chloe is about to give birth."

"Sign the papers."

"You should also... take a good, hard look at yourself."

I lowered my eyes.

My left hand held the phone call from the past.

My right hand picked up a pen, letting it hover over the open divorce agreement.

On one side, I slowly but firmly wrote my name in the space for Party B's signature.

On the other side, I softly responded to that hopeful young man from ten years ago.

"I won't."

"I won't go loving..."

The pen tip paused.

I took a breath before finishing the sentence.

"...someone else's son, and someone else's husband."

The other end of the line fell abruptly silent.

A dead silence lasted for several seconds.

Then, an incredulous, low roar exploded from the receiver, mixed with the hiss of static.

"Damn it! What did you say!?"

I didn't listen further.

My fingertip lightly touched the screen, ending this bizarre call that spanned a decade.

Then, I continued, stroke by stroke.

Completing the two characters for "Lyla Lawrence" on the pristine white page.

As the final stroke was placed, Ethan Sullivan turned around.

He was no longer the young man from the phone call who would whine and act spoiled.

Time had honed him, his features sharp and distinct, his eyes deep.

The former wild exuberance had settled into a restrained sharpness, and an undisguised scrutiny at this moment.

His gaze swept over the signature on the agreement.

The fingers holding the cigarette paused almost imperceptibly.

After a long moment.

An extremely soft, clearly mocking snort escaped his throat.

"Honey, quite decisive this time?"

I put down the pen, rubbing my throbbing temples.

My voice betrayed the exhaustion that had built up over a long time.

"Let it be, Ethan."

"There's been no need for us to torture each other for a long time now."

The mockery on Ethan's face faded slightly.

He narrowed his eyes a little, as if carefully gauging how much of my words were spoken in anger, and how much were genuine.

Right at that moment.

My phone, placed beside me, began vibrating wildly again.

The number flashing on the screen was still that unlisted, familiar old number.

Ethan glanced at it.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a knowing, icy arc, a semblance of a smile.

"What, still can't bear to hang up?"

"Honey, are you really that... pathetic?"

"Even now, still obsessed with such a cheap trick?"

"Finding some scammer with a similar voice, pretending to be me from high school... must have scammed quite a bit of money from you, right? After all, you used to fall for that act the most."

My body stiffened almost imperceptibly for an instant.

So familiar.

This tone, this posture.

He always managed to find my most vulnerable spot with precision.

Then pierce it in the most casual way.

Every time before, I would break down, cry, become hysterical, just as he wished.

Like a pitiful, wretched madwoman.

But this time.

I just felt tired.

Too tired to even muster the energy for anger.

Wasn't divorce what he had been longing for, even resorting to such methods to force me to sign?

"Hmm."

I heard my own voice, calm to the point of emptiness.

"You're right."

I didn't want to argue anymore.

Nor did I have the strength to explain.

I pushed away his hand that had instinctively reached out, seemingly to take my phone.

Right in front of him, I pressed and held the side button.

The screen went dark.

The world was finally quiet.

The triumphant smile that had been playing on Ethan's lips finally froze completely.

After only the briefest pause.

He raised his hand and stubbed out the cigarette butt on the nearby metal trash can.

The motion carried a fierce force.

When he spoke again, his voice was laced with ice.

"Better be."

"Honey, don't let me find you still harboring any inappropriate thoughts."

"Otherwise..."

He paused, leaving the sentence unfinished.

But the unspoken words were full of icy warning.

I unconsciously dug my nails into my own palm.