Linda remained silent for a moment, then exhaled softly and tossed the business card onto
the table.
“I’ll meet him. Like he said, our divorce isn’t finalized yet.”
“We need to settle these matters once and for all.”
Linda called Ivan three days later.
Although Novelist’s Love Choice was entirely her creation, from design to execution, it was
technically a product of their marriage.
During those three days, Linda meticulously sorted through their yet–to–be–clarified marital
assets.
Dialing Ivan’s number was almost muscle memory for her, a sequence etched into her
fingers.
The phone barely rang once.
Ivan answered immediately, his voice cautious, almost tentative. “Linda, is that you?”
“Mm.”
With just that soft acknowledgment, Ivan’s voice brightened with joy.
“Thank goodness, Linda! You finally called me. I’ve been waiting these past few days…”
Linda didn’t have the patience for his rambling and cut straight to the point. “This
afternoon at three, let’s meet. I’ve sent you the location.”
Then she hung up without waiting for a reply.
Rachel, who had been quietly watching, looked at Linda with a pout, hugging the first batch
of Novelist’s Love Choice/merchandise in her arms.
“You’re really going to give him half of Novelist’s Love Choice? What if he ruins my little
15:24
Forsaking the Years of Longing
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Chapter 31
merman?!”
Linda chuckled, patting the plush doll in Rachel’s arms.
“Don’t worry. Clarifying assets is just for transparency. I’m willing to make concessions in
other areas. Your little merman won’t change. None of the novelists‘ lovers will.”
After soothing Rachel, Linda left the house alone.
The autumn wind was crisp, tugging at her scarf as it fluttered in the breeze.
At the café, Ivan watched her approach through the glass door, a trace of nostalgia
softening his expression.
Once, Linda had walked toward him like this countless times, unwavering and full of
determination.
But this time would likely be the last.
Ding–a–ling-
The quaint bell above the door jingled as Linda entered.
Ivan stood up, pulling out a chair for her, just as he used to.
This time, he didn’t say a word. He simply gazed at her quietly, tenderly, as if trying to imprint her image into his memory forever.
Feeling uneasy under his gaze, Linda cleared her throat and pulled a stack of documents from her bag, sliding them across the table to Ivan.
“Take a look. These are the games I’ve designed over the past three years. You probably already know about them.”
Ivan nodded, his admiration for her work undisguised in his eyes.
“I know. You’ve done wonderfully. It’s… me who’s at fault.”
16.24
