In the end, Ryan still didn't go home. He wandered aimlessly for hours before finally settling into a hotel, the last one with its door still open.
He had just checked in and was about to take a shower when Emma's call came in.
Ryan answered—it was already nearing the afternoon, and his parents were probably on their way. He was curious about what they might say.
The moment the call connected, Emma's voice was sharp with frustration: "Is this really necessary? You had to go all the way to a hotel over something so trivial? Do you think a hotel is better than your own home? Ryan, your whole family's coming over, and you're not going to be there to take care of them? Are you really going to leave me to do it? I don't get it, how can you be so petty when you're supposed to be a grown man?"
Emma ranted on, her words a barrage, while Ryan listened in silence, unmoved.
How long had he tolerated Emma's family?
But when it was time for Emma to take care of his family, suddenly it was a different story.
It was clear—a marriage where one partner holds all the power can never last.
Yet, in Ryan's memory, Emma hadn't been like this. Why had so many of her unbearable flaws only surfaced after they married?
The tension in his temples pulsed painfully, the weight of her words pushing him to the edge. Finally, his anger erupted: "Enough! Emma, are you done? If you're finished, then just leave me alone!"
Before Emma could even react, Ryan hung up the phone.
In that instant, her face drained of color, and for the first time, she looked utterly defeated.
Not long after, Ryan's phone rang again. Emma assumed he was calling to apologize, but to her shock, his voice was cold, detached: "How about we just get a divorce next Monday?"
Emma's heart stopped for a moment, and her eyes filled with tears—but Ryan couldn't see.
She had been with him for so many years, and she knew him well enough to recognize that this wasn't just an empty threat. He meant it—he wanted a divorce.
Her anger surged, reaching its peak: "Fine, let's divorce, Ryan! Do you think I, Emma, can't live without you? You'd better not regret what you said today!"
To her surprise, Ryan's response was unsettlingly calm: "When you come over, make sure you bring all the paperwork—yours, mine, everything. The house is already yours, so I won't take it. As for your things, just have them sent to my office when you can."
With that, Ryan ended the call before Emma could ask the one question burning in her mind: Aren't you coming home? What about your parents?
Trembling, Emma tried calling him back, but it went straight to voicemail.
At that moment, Mary knocked on the door and entered. Seeing Emma's vacant, ashen face, she rushed to her side. "What happened, darling? What's wrong?"
Emma's eyes welled up with tears as she whispered, "Mom… Ryan wants a divorce… he really wants a divorce… Do you think he doesn't want me anymore?"
Mary hadn't expected things to go this far. After all, Ryan had always been so devoted to Emma, and they had been together for years.
Ryan had gotten a good job after graduation, earning a decent salary of over seven thousand a month. More importantly, he was loyal to Emma and had poured everything into their family.
For Emma's sake, he had even agreed to be a stay-at-home husband.
Mary had always been content with Ryan.
For four years of marriage, he had worked tirelessly without a single complaint.
Now, as Mary recalled Ryan's words, a pang of anxiety gripped her. "Emma, stop crying. Go find Ryan, talk to him. He loves you. He won't divorce you over something like this…"
Emma wiped her tears. "Mom, do you really think he'll come back?"
Mary smiled gently, her tone filled with the wisdom of experience: "Silly girl, moms know these things. Men just need a little calming down. Go, bring him back for dinner. It's Christmas Eve—what kind of husband stays in a hotel on Christmas? Hurry up, go."
Emma paused for a moment, then quickly grabbed her coat, her bag, and the car keys, rushing out.
Just as she stepped outside, Mary suddenly remembered something and hurried off to find George.
She needed to remind him not to be angry when Ryan came back. Ryan had valuable connections, and in the future, George would need his help with work, marriage, and everything else.
Ryan lay quietly on the bed after his shower, craving nothing more than peace and solitude to clear his mind.
However, barely an hour later, Emma arrived—she unlocked the door and walked in.
Ryan stirred, only to see Emma entering through the snow. He couldn't be bothered to respond, merely glancing at her before turning over to sleep.
He thought she would say something, but she didn't. Instead, she kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed, wrapping her arms around him from behind.
The coldness of her touch against his skin was jarring. If this had been before, Ryan would have turned around to hold her. But now…
He didn't.
Emma, sensing his distance, felt a pang of hurt but knew that she had been harsh earlier. She tried to soften her approach.
"Ryan, I was wrong this morning. I just got back from my holiday, and I was in a bad mood. I'm sorry. Can we stop fighting?"
"Ryan, let's go home for dinner. I'll cook tonight, okay?"
"Honey, your parents are here, along with your sister and nephew. Don't you want to see them? Let's go home… please?"
"Let's stop fighting. Let's go back to how things were, okay?"
Ryan closed his eyes, the memories of their past flooding his mind—how they had met, how they had fallen in love, all of it felt like a distant dream.
He turned over and wrapped his arms around Emma.
Emma smiled softly in his arms, a smugness dancing at the corners of her lips.
She was sure Ryan would never leave her.
All his talk of divorce—it was just the heat of the moment.
What Emma didn't see was the coldness in Ryan's eyes. No tenderness remained in his gaze.
Could they go back?
No.
It was too late.
Emma would never understand how he felt.
He had no more hopes, no more expectations.
This reunion was their final farewell.
Ryan closed his eyes, holding her a little tighter.
After a long silence, Ryan finally pulled away, his voice flat: "Alright, let's go home."
He got up quickly, dressed, and opened the door.
Emma, reaching for his hand, found it falling empty. Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly steadied herself. Ryan's figure had already disappeared, and she hurried to catch up.