Flash Divorce: Veiled Love

"Let's get a divorce." This was the first sentence I heard this morning, coming from my husband, Leo Smith, the very husband I had just gotten married to yesterday. Hearing what he said, I laughed.

"Sure, let's go and get divorced."

I laughed calmly, even though getting married is supposed to be the most significant event in a woman's life.

If I hadn't followed Leo when he left in the middle of the night on our wedding night, perhaps I would still be sleeping blissfully under the quilt right now.

We got dressed and then went to the City Hall. After getting our divorce certificates, we both felt an unprecedented sense of relief.

"We've been waiting for this day for a long time," Leo muttered to himself.

I nodded with a smile. "Yes, I've been waiting for this day for seven years."

We parted calmly, each boarding a bus heading in the opposite direction. In tacit agreement, neither of us looked back at the other as we slowly drove away into the distance, getting farther and farther apart.

Last night, our wedding banquet was lively, with many relatives we hadn't seen in a long time attending.

After performing the traditional wedding ceremonies, I made an excuse that I had a headache and went back to the bedroom to take a rest.

The room was dimly lit, with only a sliver of light seeping through the door crack from outside.

Sitting in the bedroom with my bridal veil on, I was drawn to that conspicuous strip of light by the door, while the sounds of toasting and lively conversations drifted in from outside. For some reason, a wave of sadness washed over me.

My eyes were unfocused, brimming with tears.

I had been with my boyfriend for seven years; we were college classmates.

He was the youngest senior physician at the hospital, talented and handsome. Over the years, he was never short of admirers, and I felt lucky to marry him.

I gently pushed the door open, leaving a small gap, and peeked outside.

The man I married was drinking with the guests. Watching his handsome face, I found myself momentarily captivated. He was gentle and treated me well. Yet, I couldn't shake off the barrier in my heart.

We had lived together for three years, but we never shared the same room. He never brought up marriage, and I never asked.

A week ago, he suddenly asked me if it was time for us to get married.

I was taken aback but realized it was indeed time.

"Yes, we've been together for seven years."

I smiled faintly, feeling happy to marry him.

He nodded and didn't say another word.

The next day, he texted me, saying he had booked a flight for the following morning to take me home to discuss our marriage.

Though annoyed he hadn't told me earlier, I took leave from work and went with him.

At home, we arranged a meal with both sets of parents. They agreed it was time for us to marry after being together for so long.

Our marriage was quite hasty-no romantic proposal, no grand promises.

Though simple, I liked him, and marrying him was enough for me.

The night before our wedding, I was too excited to sleep, imagining the scenes of the wedding day. Then I heard the door to the next room open.

Leo stayed in the room adjacent to mine. Our local customs there were quite special. Before the wedding, the young couple had to live together in their new house, and then both sets of parents came to take them to the church to worship, and then the wedding ceremony was held. Moreover, a new bridal chamber was to be arranged in the church that night, which symbolized god's blessings for the early birth of a healthy baby and a prosperous future for the couple.

I thought he was just going to the toilet and didn't give it much thought. Just when I was about to fall asleep, the door suddenly opened.

He came in quietly and asked, "Are you asleep?"

I didn't know what he intended to do, so I remained silent, curious about what he would do next.

He slowly backed out of my room and closed the door. Instinctively, I felt something was off.

I pressed my ear to the bed, listening carefully to the sounds from the next room. I heard his hurried footsteps and the sound of the wardrobe door opening.