When I Asked My Husband for a Divorce, He Said He’d Be Bringing Home a Young Woman, So I Left - 12

I could only let out a dry laugh at Ixel’s astonishingly clean break, yet as I sorted through my belongings, objects filled with memories of being loved caught my eye. Each time I picked one up, something welled up inside me.

Memories of being cherished.

Gazing at the boundary between the tattered bundle of letters from Ixel—read so many times they were falling apart—and the pristine bundle of letters read only once before being tucked away, I felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. This was the turning point.

The season had warmed, but chilly days still lingered, so the fireplace was lit. When I tossed the letters into the flames, it didn’t matter whether they were worn or pristine—they smoldered slowly before being engulfed in a sudden blaze. The fire flared up for an instant, then weakened, crumbling into embers before scattering away.

The smoke stung my eyes, and once the tears began to fall, I cried as if wringing every drop of moisture from my body.

Returning after abdicating the duel, yet telling me to get out—how cruel is that? Letting me hope only to deliver the final, merciless blow was just as cruel. Refusing to grant me power of attorney when I sought the divorce was cruel too.

But the worst was being ignored.

If his feelings had changed, he could have settled this marriage properly. But wanting to keep a wife to manage his lands while still benefiting from her family’s wealth—wasn’t that just too convenient?

Without Ixel’s power of attorney, the divorce proceedings would fall to him. A wife (me) needed her husband’s (Ixel’s) authorization to file for divorce, but when the husband initiated it, no such document from the wife was required.

Among noble couples, divorce hinged solely on the husband’s will.

As a daughter, I obeyed my father. Once married, I obeyed my husband. A woman born into nobility could not survive otherwise.

Shackles.

Had it not been for my limited lifespan, I might have considered becoming a commoner, working like a draft horse in my own trading company. But if I returned to my family home, I’d only be married off again to a man of my father’s choosing.

At my age, with no certainty of bearing children, the best I could hope for was to become a second wife in a household that already had an heir.

Or perhaps, given my experience in restoring the Ecklund territory, I’d be sent to another troubled fief to serve the kingdom’s interests.

Either way, my feelings meant nothing.

What we had—a political arrangement that slowly built trust and affection in Ecklund—might have been nothing short of a miracle.

I exhaled a long, shallow sigh and lifted my head. Along with my tears, it felt like the last of my sticky resentment and lingering attachments had spilled out.

In the end, my belongings fit into just two bags. I took only what I could carry myself; the rest could be disposed of.

Though I didn’t know how long this body would last, I had resolved to spend my final moments praying for the happiness of those who had wept for me and for the eternal peace of this land, its people, and all who deserved protection. With that determination, I left the mansion where I had lived for fifteen years—alone.

The steward offered to assign maids and guards, but the moment I stepped beyond the estate’s gates, it was only proper to sever ties with the viscount’s family.

After bidding farewell to the household staff, who stood in orderly rows and bowed in farewell, I hired a carriage in town and set off for my family home.