The next morning, I made breakfast as usual.

"Nick, you said you wanted to buy sterilized eggs, yet you never listen to what I say," my mother-in-law complained, throwing down her fork in disgust.

I didn’t apologize right away like usual, but instead threw a sharp remark back at her, "Sterilized eggs are three times the price of regular eggs, but the nutritional value is not much different. If you still want sterilized eggs, maybe you should ask your daughter to put some of the money she spends on other men back into the household."

At that moment, Alice had just woken up. "Why are you arguing so early in the morning? It's so annoying."

I kindly reminded her, "Hurry up, or we’ll miss the appointment and have to reschedule."

Alice blinked, suddenly wide awake, her hair falling onto her lips. "Are you really that impatient?"

I pointed to the clock. "It’s 8:30. After today, you'll have your wish. I’m more than happy about it."

Alice fumed as she changed clothes. "At least you know I deserve better."

She went to grab her ID, completely ignoring her mother, whose dissatisfaction had reached its peak.

"Nick, what's your problem? Alice works so hard, and you still lose your temper? How can you be so petty? If it weren’t for you treating our Alice well, how could I have ever agreed to marry her to someone as poor as you? This is such bad luck."

My nephew, also spoiled, was fussing about his hot dog and milk, complaining about the cold eggs.

I walked up to my mother-in-law, who was waiting for me to reheat the milk for her. My nephew was also waiting for me to comfort him, but I ignored them. Instead, I dumped all the breakfast into the trash and smiled as I watched their shocked, wide-eyed expressions.

"Not happy? Then don’t eat it. You’ve spoiled these habits."

As I left, my mother-in-law was still ranting and cursing, hands on her hips like she was ready to start a street argument.

The ride to the registration office was silent between Alice and me.

It’s usual for us to go from loud arguments to silent distance.

Alice was on her phone, and when we turned a corner, she dropped it. As I picked it up and handed it back to her, I saw she was chatting with Joseph. She had saved his contact as "Baby."

The entire chat window was filled with green message bubbles, making up 70% of the page.

I used to be someone who shared everything, sending her photos of meals I had at work or discussing travel. But she hardly ever responded. When she did reply, it felt like a cycle.

I told myself it was because she was too busy with work and responded late.

But today, I realized.

She could reply instantly.

At the civil affairs office, there were hardly any people registering for marriage, but the divorce line was long.

The aunt tried to persuade us. "If you two are having trouble, why not talk things over and try to work things out?"

I smiled and answered, "There’s no more feeling left after ten years. From school uniforms to wedding dresses, all the emotions are gone."

The aunt was speechless.

Alice furrowed her brow and glanced at me with a complicated expression.

Alice and I had grown up together. I went abroad for studies, and we were apart for some time. When I came back, I happened to run into her after she broke up with Joseph, and we naturally got together.

Alice and Joseph had only been together for a year, and I thought that a year wasn’t enough to shake the six years we had been together.

Six years—no matter how tough the stone, I believed I could melt it.

It wasn’t until later that I realized that the course of things doesn’t bend to anyone’s will.

No matter how thick the ice mist in Toronto, the gentle flow of water nourishes the heart.

But no matter how hard the stone, it’s just a rotten stone—it won't bloom in the spring.

Finally, the aunt sighed, "You both need a month to cool off. You're both tall, handsome, and beautiful, really well-matched. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment, or you’ll regret it later."

Alice and I left the civil affairs office, and when we got home, it took less than two hours for everything to go back to chaos again.