On the tenth wedding anniversary, Lin Wan woke up very early. The casserole was humming on the stove, simmering my husband's favorite Huaishan pork ribs soup. It was simmered slowly for four hours. The soup was simmered until it was milky white and rich, and the dense heat stained the glass window of the kitchen. She carefully wrapped the soup can into a thick thermal bag, and didn't even notice that her fingertips were slightly reddened by the heat. She rushed straight to her husband's company with a long-lost excitement in her heart.
The heavy wooden door of the CEO's office was ajar, revealing the warm and ambiguous light and suppressed breathing inside. Lin Wan's hand hung on the doorknob, and her heart sank without warning, sinking into a cold quagmire. She gently pushed open a gap - her husband's familiar back was hugging a young and charming figure tightly, and the two of them kissed inextricably, as if everything around them no longer existed. The air was stagnant, and only the heavy thermal bag in her hand suddenly lost its strength and hit the ground with a loud "clang". The hot soup and broken white bone china splashed messily like the remains of her ten-year marriage. A few drops of warm oil splashed on the cover of the dark red marriage certificate in her bag.
She said nothing, and didn't even look at the man and woman who separated in fear. He just squatted down slowly, took out a tissue from his bag, and wiped away the eye-catching oil stains on the cover of the marriage certificate bit by bit with extreme concentration. The paper towel was full of oily soup and became soft and dirty. She balled it up and held it tightly in her palm. She stood up, her back as straight as fragile bamboo in early winter, and walked out quietly, completely closing the door behind the unbearable mess and the sudden burst of whispers and excuses behind her.
