After my seventh divorce, I will not remarry

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Seven times, I married the same man.
And seven times, for the sake of his one true love, my husband divorced me.
The first time we married, he told me, For the rest of my life, I will love only you.
But whenever she came back to town, his tune would change. Can't you be more understanding? Do you really want Emma to be branded a homewrecker?
The first time we divorced, I slit my wrists in a desperate attempt to keep him. They rushed me to the hospital, but he never came. Not once.
The third time, I debased myself, applying for a job as his assistant, just for the chance to see him more often.
By the sixth time, I had learned to pack my things quietly and move out of our home without a fight.
My hysteria, my retreats, my quiet compliance—all of it earned me his punctual remarriages and his predictable betrayals.
Until this time. This time, after getting word that his precious Emma was returning, I was the one who handed him the divorce papers.
He set a date for our remarriage, just like all the other times, but he didn't know.
This time, I was leaving for good.
*****
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"Emma's back. We should get a divorce."
I slid the signed papers across the table to my husband, Ryan Hugh.
For a moment, he looked stunned, but he recovered quickly, signing his name with a practiced ease.
This was the first time I had initiated it.
But he still made the same casual promise he always did.
"She'll be gone in a month. We'll get married again then."
In the past, those words would have sent me spiraling, desperate for more reassurance. I would have demanded he swear an oath, sign a contract.
But this time, I felt nothing. No desire to respond at all.
"Tiffany, are you listening to me?"
Ryan's brow furrowed, clearly annoyed by my silence.
I had to force a nod.
"Yes."
My hands didn't stop moving, folding clothes and placing them neatly into a suitcase.
Ryan always kept his word about remarrying me. He was known in his industry for his integrity. That much was certain.
It was almost as if we weren't a husband and wife, but two parties in a contract, periodically terminating and renewing our agreement. The marriage and divorce certificates were just paperwork, two a year, every year. To date, I had signed twelve.
I remembered on our wedding day, he promised he would never be unfaithful during our marriage.
And he had kept that promise.
After all, once we were divorced, he was free to be with whomever he wanted.
The only cost was my reputation. I was known throughout our social circle as his plaything, a woman he could summon and dismiss at will.
My unusual calm today seemed to unnerve him. The memory of my past hysterics, of the times I'd hurt myself, was still vivid in his mind.
He watched me pack, faster and more efficiently than ever before, and said, a little defensively, "I can be the one to move out this time…"
The snap of the suitcase latch closing cut him off.
"I've already arranged it with my friend. I'll stay with her for a few days."
A flicker of recognition crossed Ryan's face, and his expression soured.
"Don't tell me you're playing hard to get again. Are you going to sneak into the company disguised as an assistant to watch me?"
"Tiffany, can't you get a life? Are you really that incapable of living without a man?"
I understood his subtext perfectly. He just didn't want me showing up at his office and disturbing his precious time with Emma. She was only in town for a short while, after all, and he wanted her by his side, in her role as his special assistant.
After our second divorce, I had successfully applied for that assistant position. I had walked into his office holding his favorite latte, my heart full of hope.
I found him locked in a passionate kiss with Emma, who was sitting on his lap.
I lost control and attacked her. Ryan slapped me so hard I fell to the floor.
A crowd of employees gathered outside the office, gawking at the spectacle. They all thought I was still the CEO's wife, and their gazes on Emma were filled with contempt.
To protect Emma's reputation, Ryan ignored my tearful pleas, snatched my purse, and dumped its contents onto the floor.
The deep red of the divorce certificate was like a gaping mouth, screaming the truth of our relationship to the entire world.
From then on, every time we divorced, Ryan made sure to announce it publicly.
Everyone knew Ryan loved Emma.
And everyone knew I was the shameless one, clinging to him, refusing to let go.
But this time, Ryan's fears were unfounded.
I picked up my suitcase without hesitation.
"Don't worry. I won't bother you again."
He eyed me with suspicion, but as I opened the door and stepped out, he called after me, a hint of urgency in his voice.
"We're getting remarried on the 13th of next month. Don't you forget."
I froze for a second.
What a coincidence.
The 13th was the day I was leaving the country.


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With Emma back, Ryan didn't think of me once. Just as he'd promised.
And I, for my part, broke my old, obsessive pattern of tracking his every move, of trying to intercept him at every possible location. Instead, I settled into a blissful routine with my best friend, Janice, filled with late-night food runs and cheap beer.
The days flew by. With only twenty days left before my departure, Janice and I were waiting for our food at a restaurant when Ryan and Emma walked in.
He had his arm around her waist, and they were laughing, looking like a perfect couple.
"Tiffany?"
Ryan's eyes found me immediately.
Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, her smile sickeningly sweet.
"Tiffany, what a coincidence! You're here for dinner too?"
When she saw my gaze land on her, Ryan instinctively stepped in front of her, shielding her.
I knew he thought I was going to lunge at her, just like I had before.
But not only did I not move, I actually held back Janice, who was ready to fight on my behalf.
I managed a nonchalant smile.
"Yeah, what a coincidence."
Sensing my submission, Emma's smile widened.
"So sorry, Tiffany, but Ryan promised to book the entire restaurant just for me tonight. You'll have to find somewhere else to eat."
She tugged on his arm, her voice a saccharine whine.
"Isn't that right, Ryan? You have to say something, or Tiffany will think I'm targeting her on purpose."
For a split second, as his eyes met my calm gaze, Ryan hesitated. But then he nodded at me.
He didn't say a word, but his silence was more cutting than any insult.
Janice started to roll up her sleeves, but I gently pressed her arm down.
"It's fine. We can go somewhere else."
Somewhere else. Somewhere without Ryan.
My departure was so close. I didn't want to waste any more time on pointless arguments with my ex-husband.
As a good ex, shouldn't I just treat him as if he were dead?
The restaurant manager, sensing the situation, rushed over to fawn over the couple.
"You two are so lovely together. It's truly enviable."
At his words, Ryan's gaze shifted to me, a complex mix of wariness and curiosity. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
But I just took Janice's hand and stood up to leave, pretending I hadn't heard a thing.
Ryan was clearly not expecting my lack of reaction. He stared at my retreating back, lost in thought.
Emma had to call his name several times, her voice growing impatient, before he finally, reluctantly, tore his eyes away.
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I thought the encounter at the restaurant would be my last with Ryan before I left.
But on the evening I officially resigned from my position as his assistant, he sent me a video call request.
This was so unprecedented that I had to fight the urge to decline, instead answering with audio only.
His voice was laced with annoyance.
"Why just audio?"
"I'm not wearing any makeup," I said, the excuse tasting like ash in my mouth. It was a foolish thing to say, implying I still wanted to look good for him.
As I expected, he chuckled, his mood instantly lifting.
"We've been married long enough. Is there any version of you I haven't seen?"
His flirtatious tone made my skin crawl. "What do you want?" I asked, my voice cold.
He sensed the shift immediately, his lazy posture straightening. "HR told me you resigned."
"I did," I said, offering no explanation.
Silence hung between us.
He tried to make a joke, but it sounded forced. "It's for the best, I guess. You had a perfectly good life as the CEO's wife, and you chose to be an assistant. Talk about making things hard for yourself. Not that you were ever in the office much anyway. And I still had to pay you every month. The whole company knew you were only there because of me. They all said I was playing favorites."
I cut him off, my patience wearing thin. "Don't you need to be with Emma?"
He muttered under his breath, "It's not like there's anything serious between us. Nothing to be with."
Then he fell silent, as if suddenly remembering that I was just his ex-wife, too.
A wave of guilt seemed to wash over him.
"About the divorce… I'm sorry."
"I was just worried that if we stayed married, people would talk about Emma…"
I nodded. Emma shouldn't be subjected to gossip. So I should be the one to become a laughingstock, the butt of every joke in our circle.
My voice turned to ice. "If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up."
"Wait!" he said, his voice urgent. "The 12th is our anniversary. There's a concert, The Remnants. I know you want to go. I'll take you. We'll go together, okay?"
For a fleeting moment, I was tempted to tell him the truth.
But before I could speak, Emma's voice drifted from his end of the line.
"Ryan, honey, I forgot my towel. Can you bring it to me?"
He didn't answer right away, just stared at my name on his phone screen, clearly torn.
"Go on," I said, my voice flat.
He slowly got up, but he didn't put the phone down.
"Tiffany, wait for me. I'll be right back."
He walked towards the bathroom.
And then, just as I expected, I heard the sound of them kissing, a muffled grunt from Ryan, and the bathroom door slamming shut.
I hung up, a bitter smile on my face.
Just then, Janice burst in, excited about a night out at a club.
Without a second thought, I put my phone down and linked my arm with hers.
There were so many other things in the world that could make me happy.
I had been blind for so long. Why waste another moment of my life on a man who was already in my past?


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The days without Ryan passed in a blur. Before I knew it, my departure was just a few days away.
I hadn't seen him, but I'd heard from Janice that he and Emma had had a massive fight. He'd even stormed out of a gala, leaving her humiliated. Rumor had it they were fighting about me.
I just laughed it off.
I wasn't that same love-sick girl anymore, the one who would obsessively refresh social media, searching for any sign of a crack in their relationship so I could rush to his side and declare my undying love.
They were just having a lover's quarrel. They'd make up. And what if it was about me? Wasn't I always just a part of their twisted game?
After the fight, though, he started calling me more and more often. I either ignored his calls or made up excuses to avoid seeing him.
The day before I was set to leave, he called again, asking me to the concert.
"I have the tickets. Let's meet tonight, okay?"
"It's our anniversary. You can't say no to me today, can you?"
He had never pleaded with me like this before.
Usually, he would just toss out a suggestion, take a single step towards me, and I would sprint the other ninety-nine to meet him, only to find that he had already taken that one step back for Emma.
But I didn't know what to say.
Because today wasn't our wedding anniversary.
It was the anniversary of our fourth remarriage.
After all this time, all the breakups and makeups, I was the only one who bothered to remember all the little details of our life together.
But in the end, I agreed.
I really did want to see The Remnants.
That night, I waited and waited outside the concert hall, but Ryan never showed up.
I played the voice message he'd just sent. His guilt-ridden voice, mixed with the loud, muffled sounds of the concert and the faint giggle of Emma in the background, filled my ears.
"I'm so sorry, Tiffany. Emma suddenly felt sick. I had to take her to the hospital."
"We'll have plenty more anniversaries to celebrate. Once she leaves tomorrow, I'll do whatever you want, okay?"
The concert started. A haunting melody drifted out from the venue.
"Thanks for the special invitation, to witness your new love's coronation. I tell myself every second, don't run away."
I closed the message and, for the first time in a month, opened my social media.
The first thing I saw was Emma's new post from a few minutes ago: a selfie of her and Ryan at the concert.
"I'm letting go of all my memories, to make room for your new love story. But I still can't believe, this is my destiny."
The song continued, a mocking soundtrack to the flicker of hope I had foolishly allowed myself to feel when I agreed to meet him.
And now, that last flicker was finally, completely extinguished.
Seven divorces. I should have known better, shouldn't I?
But at least this was the last time.
With no lingering feelings left, I turned and went to the airport. I sat there all night.
At 7 a.m., I checked in for my flight.
Ryan sent me a text, asking when we were getting remarried. I didn't reply. I just deleted his contact.
At 8 a.m., I was in the boarding line.
He called. I didn't answer. I just blocked his number.
At 9 a.m., I was on the plane.
The flight attendant asked everyone to switch their phones to airplane mode. Just then, a call came through. It was Janice.
But it was Ryan's voice on the other end, tight with panic.
"Tiffany, where are you?"

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