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After the Rain
Nine years into my marriage with Josh Hall.
His mistress crashed my birthday party, declaring their true love and demanding I grant them a divorce.
Josh stood by, cold and indifferent, waiting for me to handle his unruly lover as I always had.
But that night, something inside me finally snapped.
I stood up and smiled at him.
"I'm going to get some air on the terrace."
Josh didn't think twice. He assumed I was going to cry in private.
But one hour passed. Then two. Then three.
I never came back.
When he finally went looking for me, all he found on the terrace was a spent cigarette and a ring.
That's when he knew.
I was never coming back.
1
In the fifth year of our marriage, Josh Hall kept a hauntingly beautiful ballet dancer as his mistress.
Her name was Luna He.
Someone told me that the first time Josh saw Luna, he became mesmerized by her ethereal grace—the way she moved like moonlight itself.
He kept her hidden away like a dragon hoarding treasure, letting no one near her.
Not even me.
But tonight, here she was.
Luna stood before me, eyes red-rimmed, filled with accusation. "Mr. Hall doesn't love you anymore. He loves me now. Don't you think it's cruel and unreasonable to trap him in this marriage?"
"Mr. Hall and I are truly in love. Please, just agree to the divorce and let us be together."
She cried so pitifully.
Like a tragic heroine whose happiness was being blocked by the wicked wife.
I found it laughable.
"True love? You're in love with someone else's husband, and you don't think that makes you cheap?"
Luna's face paled, but the next moment she cried even harder.
"You're right. You're absolutely right. Falling for a married man does make me cheap. You have every right to insult me. But I was wrong—love itself isn't wrong!"
"I just want to be with the person I love forever. I truly love Mr. Hall. I don't want to be separated from him."
"Can't you just let us go?"
Her words were absurd and childish.
Yet Josh found her endearing and fearless. He gently wiped away her tears, his voice soft and soothing. "That's enough, baby. Stop making a scene. I'll come stay with you tonight."
The room fell silent.
Everyone froze.
He was trampling on my dignity, publicly taking Luna's side.
This was a level of favor none of his other mistresses had ever received.
In the past, when women had shown up demanding I leave, Josh had personally dealt with them—and dealt with them harshly.
He'd warned everyone:
"Vivian is my wife. No one gets to challenge her."
But tonight?
Tonight, Luna had ruined my birthday. Not only did Josh let it slide, he even had his assistant personally escort her home. Then he walked over to me, his voice low. "Don't worry. I won't let her act out again."
Translation: Don't lay a finger on her.
He was warning me.
I didn't immediately nod. Josh frowned slightly, his gaze turning cold as ice. "Vivian, Luna's young. She doesn't know better—"
He was already making excuses for her.
"I understand. Don't worry."
I cut him off and nodded in agreement.
Josh's expression softened. He reached for my hand, but I instinctively pulled away. His face darkened with displeasure, but I simply smiled at him. "I'm going to get some air on the terrace."
Josh nodded. "Come back soon. We're waiting to cut your cake."
"Okay."
I turned and left. I could feel his eyes on my back the entire time.
But I never looked back.
Not once.
2
Outside the ballroom, rain fell in a steady patter.
I lit a cigarette.
Through the curling smoke, I suddenly remembered that it had been raining the day Josh proposed to me too.
We'd known each other since childhood. We fell in love at sixteen. At twenty-three, Josh's startup succeeded and he made his first fortune. Then he proposed.
"Vivian, will you marry me?"
That day, he knelt before me on one knee, his hands trembling so badly he could barely hold the ring.
I looked down at him and asked just one question. "Will you always love me?"
He swore without hesitation:
"Forever."
I believed he meant it at the time.
But sincerity is fickle.
When I was twenty-seven, Josh kept his first mistress—a young, beautiful girl.
When I found out, he knelt before me, crying and begging me not to divorce him. He promised he would change.
But once there's a first time...
There's a second. A third. A fourth.
Now, he didn't even bother hiding it. And I'd stopped making scenes.
I'd cried enough. I'd seen through it all.
Like Luna.
Josh treated her differently. He warned me, threatened me for her sake. Three years ago, I would have cried until my heart shattered.
But now? Now I just felt exhausted and disgusted.
Because I knew better than anyone: Josh would never divorce me for Luna. It had nothing to do with feelings. After years of marriage, our finances were too entangled, too complex. Divorce would be messy and unprofitable for him.
He wouldn't do it.
And he was certain I wouldn't either.
After all, over the years I'd threatened divorce countless times. But it always came to nothing.
At first, it was because I loved him. Later, it was because I couldn't let go.
But regardless of the reason, I'd endured this for so long. I should have been used to this charade by now.
Yet this time...
This time, I was suddenly sick of it. I didn't want to keep performing in his play anymore.
The ash fell.
It burned my fingertips.
Just then, a server approached and said quietly, "Mrs. Hall, Mr. Hall says it's time for you to come back and cut the cake."
Go back?
I snapped back to reality. After a moment, I stubbed out the cigarette and turned around with a faint smile.
"Tell Josh I'm not coming back."
3
The server relayed my message to Josh.
His expression darkened.
Seeing this, the other guests quickly tried to smooth things over. "Mrs. Hall is probably just upset. That's why she said she's not coming back. Women throw little tantrums sometimes. You understand, Mr. Hall."
"Women need to be coaxed. Why don't you go talk to her, Mr. Hall?"
Josh felt a flicker of doubt.
He and Vivian had known each other since childhood. No one understood better than him how much Vivian loved him.
Today he'd asked Vivian to accommodate Luna, and to placate Luna, he'd said he'd spend the night with her.
He shouldn't have said that.
It was Vivian's birthday. He should have stayed with her tonight.
He'd said the wrong thing.
Realizing this, Josh looked at the server. "Was she crying?"
Vivian had always been a crybaby. She cried when she was sad, cried when she was happy. She'd even cry over melodramatic TV shows and lose sleep over them.
She was sensitive and fragile.
She must have been hurt by what he said, so she made up an excuse to go outside and cry in private.
Josh felt a twinge of guilt.
Vivian was his wife, and today was her birthday. He shouldn't have embarrassed her for Luna's sake.
He should apologize.
But then the server shook his head. "No."
"Mrs. Hall was smiling. She looked very happy. Very beautiful."
Josh frowned, surprised by this answer. But a moment later, his face hardened, his tone turning icy. "Then what's she playing at? She's a grown woman, not a child throwing a tantrum. If she doesn't want to come back, fine. Let her sulk."
The guests exchanged glances but didn't dare say more.
They could only wait.
But one hour passed. Then two. Then three.
Vivian still hadn't returned to the ballroom.
Josh's expression grew darker. He stood and headed for the terrace.
A high society wife, a matriarch of wealth and status.
Yet here she was, walking out of her own party over some mistress, making herself—and him—look foolish in front of all their guests.
When he found Vivian, he was going to give her a piece of his mind.
But when he reached the terrace, it was empty.
Rain pattered down softly.
By the trash can lay a spent cigarette and a ring.
Josh's heart trembled.
That ring was the silver band he'd used when he proposed.
Over the years, he'd bought Vivian countless pieces of jewelry. But she'd always treasured this simple silver ring above all else, treating it like something precious.
Now, she'd tossed it into the trash like garbage.
She didn't want it anymore.
Just then, the wind picked up, driving rain against his shirt. His body turned cold, but his mind became crystal clear—
Vivian was never coming back.
4
When I got back to the mansion, the first thing I did was call my lawyer.
He was professional and efficient, walking me through the asset division. After all, this wasn't the first time he'd helped me with divorce proceedings—though they'd always fizzled out before.
But this time was different.
I was serious. Focused.
I don't know how much time passed before my phone rang.
It was Josh.
He'd probably realized I'd left early without telling him, making him lose face. He sounded annoyed when he answered. "Vivian, what the hell are you trying to pull?"
I signaled for the lawyer to pause.
Then I said calmly, "I want a divorce."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, his breathing stopping for just a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had gone soft.
"Because of Luna?"
I didn't answer.
Thinking he'd guessed correctly, he seemed to relax slightly, his tone taking on a soothing quality. "Vivian, she ruined your birthday. That was wrong. You have every right to be upset. I'll have her come apologize to you right now—"
Even now.
He thought I was throwing a tantrum over Luna, but he still couldn't bear to let her go.
It was almost funny.
I laughed softly, then interrupted him with perfect calm. "Josh, this has nothing to do with anyone else."
"Then what—"
"I want a divorce because I don't love you anymore."
"Josh, the road ahead is long. I'm just not going to walk it with you anymore."
Finally saying those words felt like lifting a crushing weight off my shoulders.
There was a hint of melancholy, but more than anything, I felt light. Free.
Josh fell silent. On the other end of the line, I could only hear the sound of his fingers drumming on the desk—his tell when he was thinking.
After a moment, he spoke again, his voice heavy.
"What game are you playing this time?"
5
He still thought I was playing games.
The question was familiar.
Every time he cheated and I found out, every time I cried and made a scene, he would look at me with this same exhausted indifference, his eyes full of confusion, and say: "All these years, my money and my company shares—they're all in your name. Those women are just casual flings. They don't mean anything. No one can threaten your position. You'll always be my wife. You'll always be Mrs. Hall."
"You can have anything you want, buy anything you want. Look at other women around you—half of them are struggling to make ends meet. They don't make in a year what your jewelry costs. Vivian, what the hell are you complaining about? What more could you possibly want?"
What more could I want, indeed?
I had wealth, status, luxury.
So many people envied me.
Even my father, after beating Josh senseless, had gently suggested I let it go. Just pretend I didn't know. Make it work. Love didn't pay the bills. Money did.
I understood the logic.
But I couldn't accept it.
I couldn't accept that childhood sweethearts, partners who'd weathered hardship together, would end up in a hollow marriage built on lies.
I couldn't accept that two hearts that had chosen each other would grow to hate the sight of one another.
So I cried. I screamed. I threatened divorce over and over, trying to win back his remorse, trying to reclaim his love.
But instead, love turned to hatred.
Love him and want him to live. Hate him and want him to die.
I'd never believed that saying. But during those darkest days, I did.
"Josh, you might not believe this, but there was a time I really wanted to kill you. And then kill myself."
I thought Josh would be horrified, but instead he asked, "Why didn't you?"
I paused.
Then I smiled faintly, my voice soft. "Because that night, you called me 'babe.'"
6
Babe.
A term of endearment.
My mother died young. My father raised me alone. He gave me a nickname: Babe.
When Josh found out, he started calling me that too.
He called me that for years and years.
When we were young, he'd hold my hand and run down suburban roads toward school, laughing as he looked back. "Come on, Babe! We're going to be late!"
On our wedding night, he kissed my forehead, his fingers trembling. "Babe, I love you."
The day my father died, he held me tightly and whispered in my ear over and over. "Babe, you're not alone. I'll take care of you from now on. Don't be afraid."
Back then, he loved me most.
But at some point, he stopped. He started calling me Vivian. Vivian Gu.
I thought I'd forgotten that nickname.
But that night...
That night, after I got him drunk and wrapped my hands around his throat, squeezing harder and harder, he opened his bleary eyes. When he saw my tear-stained face, his first reaction wasn't to struggle against the ropes binding his wrists. Instead, his face went cold and he asked:
"Babe, why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"
I froze.
He was drunk. He didn't remember betraying me, hurting me. He only remembered loving me, hating to see me cry.
So when I told him he was the one who hurt me...
Josh panicked instantly. He looked up at me, his voice pitiful. "Then... I'm sorry, Babe. I'm sorry. You can hit me if you want. Tomorrow I'll take you to get roasted corn from Old Lee, okay?"
I'd always had a sweet tooth as a kid. I loved the roasted corn from Old Lee's corner stand.
But I could never bring myself to buy it.
Josh would save up money to buy it for me. When I offered him a bite, he'd refuse—unless I forced it into his mouth.
Back then we were poorest. Back then we loved each other most.
Whenever he made me angry, he'd stare at me with those puppy-dog eyes, like he was terrified I'd abandon him.
Just like that night.
So I was weak. I let go.
I released his throat. I untied the ropes.
As he called my name over and over, growing more frantic, I left the room. I went to the rooftop and looked down. I thought: if I can't kill Josh, maybe I should just die instead.
But the moment that thought crossed my mind...
A sharp whistling sound cut through the air.
I looked up.
Fireworks bloomed across the sky before my eyes.
Red, blue, pink.
Brilliant and beautiful, lighting up half the sky.
Breathtakingly gorgeous.
Now, as I stared out the window into the dark night where no fireworks bloomed, my voice came out soft and gentle.
"In that moment, I suddenly didn't want to die anymore. I was even glad I hadn't killed you."
"Because if I had, I would never have seen those beautiful fireworks again."
On the other end of the line, Josh was silent for a long time. I thought maybe my past insanity had frightened him. But then he suddenly asked, "Do you still want to kill me now?"
His voice was serious.
So I thought abou