Ch. Love Leaving the Port 6 Love Leaving the Port 6

Jenny, stunned, stared at his back, crying and 

laughing, “Ha, Ethan, you’re more naive than I 

thought. You hurt Sarah deeply. She’ll never 

come back.” 

Women understand women best, but Ethan 

didn’t heed her words. 

He knew his wife. 

No matter how angry Sarah got, a sincere 

apology and gifts would appease her. 

く 

But this time, she’d even printed a divorce 

agreement. Regular gifts wouldn’t suffice. 

After much thought, he found a tattoo parlor. 

He showed the artist a design I’d sent him 

five years ago, “I’m in a hurry, no anesthetic.” 

Seven hours later, Ethan, in a blood–stained 

shirt, hurried out. 

He bought a ten–million–dollar gift and 999 

white roses. 

Nearly forty–eight hours awake, he drove to a 

vineyard on the outskirts of London. 

On the highway, he nervously rehearsed his 

apology. 

No matter how he practiced, his first words 

would always be, “Sarah, I miss you.” 

Finally, he found me. 

But his flowers fell–I was in the arms of a 

tall, handsome man. 

With a smile he’d never seen, she was 

playfully feeding him grapes. 

く 

He didn’t say, “I miss you.” 

He simply asked, “Who is he?” 

Sensing my stiffness, Liam tightened his. 

embrace. 

“You’re Ethan, right? I’ve seen your wedding 

photo with Sarah. You’re even uglier in 

person.” 

Seeing me relax and giggle, Ethan felt a blow 

to his chest, clenching his fists until his nails 

drew blood. 

“Since you traveled so far, let me introduce 

myself. I’m Liam, Sarah’s…” 

“Liam? I know. You’re the adopted son of the 

Smith family driver. The ungrateful wretch 

Grandma Smith kicked out.” 

Liam wasn’t fazed. 

I frowned, “Ethan, Liam isn’t like that. Why 

are you here? Trespassing is illegal.” 

Hearing I wanted him gone, he looked terrible. 

He’d forgotten he was here to apologize, not 

argue. 

“Sarah, I’m here, please stop acting like a 

child and come home.” 

“Home?” 

I looked at him like he was crazy. “Did you hit 

your head? We’re divorced. Didn’t you see the 

signed agreement?” 

Packages could get lost. 

As I thought about printing another copy, he said confidently, “I tore that agreement to shreds. Sarah, I know you’re angry about 

Jenny. I’ve dealt with her; she won’t bother 

you again.” 

He rushed towards me, trying to touch my 

face. 

I pushed him away. My tone was flat, “Mr. 

Smith, when the Smith family fell on hard 

times, only the Smiths helped. For nine years, 

I repaid that debt. Now Jenny’s pregnant, the 

Smiths have an heir. I sincerely wish your 

family happiness.” 

Ethan understood I was leaving. 

He panicked. 

“Wife, why are you saying this? Was it only to 

repay the debt? You think I’ll believe that lie?” No, he wouldn’t. 

If I didn’t love him, why did I ask for a kiss 

every morning? Why did I cry and wait outside 

the operating room when he had surgery? 

I loved him deeply. 

Everyone could see it. 

But what did he do? 

The more obedient I was, the more he 

humiliated me. 

He forgot that hearts are fragile. After 

enough pain, numbness sets in, and you stop 

self–destructing. 

With a sad smile, his eyes red, he looked at 

me deeply, “Sarah, I didn’t know Jenny would 

upset you so much. She was a one–night 

stand after too much alcohol. I brought her 

home out of obligation. After she gives birth, she’ll emigrate. Okay?”