Blurb：
I married the same man Frederick nine times, and each time he divorced me for his first love Sophia. From my first meltdown to obediently packing his bags, my emotional turmoil always earned empty promises. But this ninth divorce was different—I packed my own things and left quietly. When Frederick handed me divorce papers with his usual “We’ll remarry in a month,” I signed without feeling. He didn’t know I had a one-way flight booked for that exact date. After moving out, my best friend Hannah revealed Frederick was already traveling with Sophia. We unexpectedly crossed paths at a jewelry store where Sophia clung to his arm. While Hannah called him a cheater, I remained calm—finally free from the cycle of divorce and false hope. This time, Chloe was gone for good.
Content：
I married the same man nine times.
And each time, he divorced me for his first love.
The first time we divorced, I broke down and threw all his luggage out of the house.
By the fourth divorce, I begged him to leave his things behind, terrified he wouldn’t come back.
By the eighth, I had learned to obediently pack for him, afraid to upset him.
My meltdowns, my pleas, my obedience…
They bought me his promise every time.
Yet another divorce always followed.
This time, I packed my own bags and left quietly.
He didn’t know.
I would be gone for good.
“We’ll remarry in a month.”
Frederick took the divorce papers smoothly, offering the usual empty comfort.
I signed without feeling anything.
“Chloe.”
He frowned at my silence, and repeated himself.
“Okay. Sure.”
I paused my packing and glanced back at him, resigned.
Frederick always kept his word.
Every time we divorced, he’d name the date of our next marriage.
He only lied to me at our wedding, where he held me and whispered,
“From now on, you’re the only one I love.”
Silver-tongued men are all lying dogs.
Frederick seemed surprised by my cold attitude.
Usually, after signing, I’d be sobbing uncontrollably.
“This time, I’ll move out —” he began, but I cut him off.
“No, I’ll go. I’ve already packed most of my things.”
He looked stunned.
The first time we divorced, I lost it and threw his luggage out.
The fourth time, I begged him to leave his things so he’d have to return.
By the eighth, I’d learned to pack for him neatly, scared to make him angry.
My meltdowns, my pleas, my obedience…
They earned me his promise every time.
Yet another divorce always followed.
Three days ago, he gave me a gift.
It was a necklace in a style I loved.
I forced a smile, but my heart ached.
In our marriage, Frederick rarely showed affection. Any kindness usually foreshadowed pain.
Deep that night, I secretly checked his phone when he was sleeping well.
Pinned at the top was a message from his first love, Sophia.
“I’m coming back.”
Those words sentenced our ninth marriage to death.
I scrolled further and found a chat with his friend:
“Chloe’s really great this time. Don’t divorce her.”
“I thought you said you were over Sophia?”
Frederick’s reply was brief:
“Tried. Couldn’t forget.”
Shaking my head, I pulled myself out of the memory.
Under Frederick’s intense gaze, I finished packing.
Having planned my escape from this city for good, I carried my bags out in relief.
Behind me, he spoke up, firm and formal.
“Chloe. One month from now, we remarry.”
I didn’t answer, just waved dismissively.
Funny enough.
My flight out of the country was booked for one month later.
After moving out, I settled into my parents’ old apartment.
As every previous divorce, he didn’t reach out for me.
With twenty days left until my departure, I went shopping with my best friend, Hannah.
She vented about Frederick, then cautiously mentioned:
“I saw Frederick and Sophia traveling together on social media.”
I stayed silent, realizing I hadn’t obsessively checked their profiles these days like before.
Hannah asked gently and carefully, “You two divorced again?”
“Yeah, we’re done.”
My dear friend sighed and tried to comfort me.
Smiling, I was about to tell her my plans to leave the country when we unexpectedly ran into Frederick at a jewelry store.
“Chloe.”
He called out instinctively.
Sophia was holding his arm, greeting me sweetly,
“Chloe, here for jewelry too?”
She was beautiful — no wonder she was his first love.
Frederick shot me a guarded look, shifting slightly to shield her.
I held back Hannah who was burning with anger and replied calmly,
“Just treating myself. Something good happened recently.”
Hannah couldn’t resist adding,
“Yeah, dumping a cheater — and someone’s already lining up to take him. Isn’t that great?”
I pinched her arm but secretly agreed.
Frederick looked like he wanted to say something but stayed quiet.
A clever sales clerk noticed the tension and had another employee assist us.
Hannah whispered that Frederick kept glancing our way, distracted.
I shrugged it off — probably just guilt.
“Sorry, ma’am, this style is sold out,” the clerk told Hannah when she pointed to a clover necklace.
My heart twitched — it was the same necklace Frederick had given me before the divorce.
In the past, every small kindness from him meant the world to me.
This time, I took it out of my bag and handed it to her.
“You can have mine.”
Just then, Frederick and Sophia walked past.
I sworn he looked back several times, his eyes lingering on the necklace in Hannah’s hand.
Hannah tried to refuse, but I insisted.
After all, it was just a guilt gift — nothing important.
It meant nothing to me anymore.
With ten days left, I told my boss I was quitting.
Feeling nostalgic, I went for a walk around the complex.
A tall figure emerged from the shadows and startled me.
I nearly screamed before he covered my mouth.
“Chloe, it’s me.”
I pulled away from Frederick’s grip and stepped back.
“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming.” I didn’t hide my annoyance.
“I was in the area.” His eyes darted around. “Thought I’d surprise you.”
I almost laughed. Frederick visiting me would’ve felt like a miracle.
Under the moonlight, he studied me in confusion.
I sighed, tempted to tell him my plan but held back — no need for complications.
“Shouldn’t you be with Sophia? Coming here might make her misunderstand.” I said it as gently as I could.
“Misunderstand what? We’re just friends.”
He was lying.
I tilted my head but didn’t call him out,
“Whatever you are, I’m just the ex-wife.”
The night wind blew, carrying my words into the silence.
After a pause, Frederick tried to explain,
“Divorcing you was wrong.”
“But I can’t let Sophia be seen as a homewrecker.”
I took another step back, frustrated and unwilling to understand.
She couldn’t bear the blame, so I deserved nine divorces?
“How thoughtful of you. I have nothing to say.”
Frederick seemed to want to say more, but his phone rang — Sophia was calling.
Seeing her name on the screen, I said,
“Go be with her. We can talk another time.”
He glanced at me a few times before walking away to answer.
I returned to my apartment and locked the door tightly.
As if sealing away everything that had just happened, and everything that came before.
After wrapping up work, my departure date drew closer.
Without work or Frederick, I cut ties with everyone in Seattle and found peace.
Only Hannah, who knew about my plans, kept me updated on the gossip.
Like how after our run-in, Frederick and Sophia had a huge fight, and friends had to mediate.
Or how Sophia tearfully yelled at him at some party, leaving him dazed in a corner.
I listened quietly, feeling nothing.
News of their arguments made me beg Frederick to remarry me in the past.
This time, I didn’t even open his chat.
Surprisingly, Frederick started calling me.
I kept hitting decline — a move even Hannah thought was harsh during our spa day.
“Is this how men are? The more you ignore them, the more they want you?”
Hannah joked. I playfully kicked her.
Over tea later, she sighed.
“You know, Frederick was good to you once.”
My mind drifted to the pas when we met in college.
He was six years older — a friend of my father’s.
When my parents moved abroad for work, they asked him to watch over me.
The powerful man doted on me endlessly.
He carried me off the field when I sprained my ankle during a race, scolded me for failing exams, then tutored me himself.
When I got scammed out of a thousand during an internship, he used his connections to shut the company down.
Somewhere along the way, I fell for him.
Frederick spoiled me but didn’t realize what was happening — until I confessed.
His face darkened, and he sighed.
“There’s someone else.”
That’s when I learned about Sophia.
A woman who looked a bit like me.
When Sophia returned later, they dated, fought, and broke up.
One night after his breakup, I foolishly confessed again while he was drunk.
He kissed me back and bound us with marriage.
And when Sophia came to town, Frederick asked for his first divorce.
The cycle of divorce and remarriage continued until I went numb.
I stopped hating Sophia and started hating Frederick.
If I was just a stand-in, why had he spoiled me so much? Why did he make vows at our wedding?
If he ever loved me, why did he divorce me repeatedly?
If he never loved me, why did he remarry me again and again?
It could only be that our marriage was a game he played to spite Sophia.
Snapping out of the memory, I stopped Hannah’s rambling.
I was leaving tomorrow, which made me feel relieved.
The title of “ex-wife” would only last another 24 hours.
After that, we’d be strangers.
To avoid Frederick, I checked into a hotel in advance.
Unexpectedly, the first call came from Sophia.
Her voice, usually soft, now sounded venomous,
“Chloe. I didn’t know you were so cunning.”
“I don’t know what you did, but you’ve won this round.”
“Frederick married you nine times to hurt me.”
My heart ached — yes, I knew.
“But so what? Whenever I returned, he’d leave you.”
“I thought this time would be the same. But…”
She paused, suggesting something I’d tried not to consider.
“This time, he fought with me repeatedly.”
“It’s ridiculous. He says he loves me most.”
“But he can’t fool me. You, the stand-in, finally won his heart.”
I didn’t believe her but marveled at her insecurity.
I taunted, “So, you’re scared?”
Sophia’s voice turned sharp with laughter,
“Scared? Chloe, I proposed to him.”
“Guess what? Did he say yes?”
I hung up.
I always knew her place in his heart.
But it shouldn’t matter now.
That night, knowing Frederick wouldn’t call, I still watched my phone involuntarily.
All night I sat on the hotel sofa.
On the day we should’ve remarried for the tenth time, I was leaving.
At 7 a.m., I took a cab to the airport.
No message from Frederick. I deleted his socials.
At 8 a.m., past security.
No call from Frederick. I blocked his number.
At 9 a.m., on the plane.
I was deleting all his photos and messages when my phone rang — it was Hannah.
I answered.
But Frederick’s voice came through — panicked, almost sobbing.
“Chloe, where are you?”
Hannah was yelling in the background,
“Chloe! I didn’t tell him! He barged in and took my phone!”
“Get out or I’ll call the police for breaking in!”
I heard her punching him.
“Where are you?” Frederick desperately repeated again and again.
I took a deep breath and spoke with unexpected calm:
“What, finally marrying Sophia moved you to tears?”
Frederick’s voice grew frantic, choked with tears and panic:
“No, I didn’t agree to marry her!”
“We should remarry today!”
I froze.
In all our years, he’d never begged or sounded so vulnerable.
This was the first time I’d heard him cry and plead.
Even to Sophia, his one true love, he was too proud to do that to her.
His desperation now — was it genuine regret?
Or just panic at losing control over me?
I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to say goodbye.
But before I could speak, a flight attendant’s polite reminder saved me:
“Ma’am, we’re about to take off. Please power down your phone.”
I smirked.
“Frederick, you heard?”
“I’m leaving. Goodbye.”
I hung up before he could respond.
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