After the party, I went to get in the passenger seat.

As soon as I touched the door, I heard the click of the locks engaging.

Frank rolled down the window, looking at me coldly.

"Just grab a cab. The car's just been washed, and you stink of booze."

He seemed to forget where the booze smell came from. The disgust in his eyes was brighter than a streetlight.

Normally, I'd be freaking out, drinking water like crazy and desperately trying to convince him that it was just a little wine, no big deal.

Or I'd be breaking down right there in the street, red-eyed and demanding to know why he made me apologize for Jessica.

But this time, I just smiled and nodded.

"Okay, drive safe."

Frank's hand loosened on the steering wheel, looking at me in shock.

"Ashley, you…"

Before he could finish, Jessica pushed me aside with a smile.

"Mr. Frank, I'm ready to go. Let's hit the road."

She was wearing Frank’s jacket, the alcohol stains on her dress reeking of cheap wine.

It must have happened when she knocked over the champagne tower.

But Frank didn’t seem to mind. He even opened the door for her and carefully tucked the jacket around her.

"It's cold out, don't catch a cold."

Only then did he remember I existed, looking at me guiltily.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I just thought that since Jessica is a girl and younger, I need to take care of her."

I nodded.

"I understand."

Afraid he wouldn't believe me, I added:

"You used a 'Doghouse Card', right? I'm not mad."

Frank flinched, and was about to say something.

Jessica sneezed, drawing his attention again.

"Get home soon."

After leaving those words, the two drove away.

I watched the car disappear into the distance.

I went inside and pulled out my savings account and the "Doghouse Card" jar from the closet.

I used to be able to reach in a grab the card easily, but now I had to rummage around for a while before I finally got one.

I tore the 97th card into pieces, then turned on my computer and started drafting the divorce papers.

To be fair, I called my old professor.

"Hey, Professor Davis, I want to divorce Frank. How should the assets be divided to make it fair?"

My professor was caught off guard.

"Divorce? Why?"

"The whole school knows that Frank proposed to you 99 times to chase you, and it is still a good story at the school. Why do you want a divorce?"

Yeah, how did it get to this point?

It probably started with the perfume that got heavier and heavier on him every day.

From his increasingly frequent absences from home.

From the "Doghouse Cards" in the jar being used up because of Jessica.

I knew we couldn't go back.

Seeing my silence, my professor stopped persuading me, instead asking,

"I'll help you write the divorce papers, when do you need them?"

I turned my head to look at the savings jar, and said softly,

"When Frank uses up the last two chances."

Just then, the door opened.

"What chance?"

Frank walked in with a paper bag in his hand, looking confused.

I hung up the phone and calmly turned off the computer.

"Nothing, I was just talking to my professor about divorce stuff."

Frank's face changed. He practically jumped in front of me.

"Divorce? You want to divorce me?"

I took a step back, replying evasively.

"No, it was a case. My professor wanted my opinion."

Only then did the man breathe a sigh of relief, handing me the paper bag in his hand.

"This is for you."

The pattern on the bag was from my favorite bakery.

Before we got married, Frank would run to this store and buy me cake every time he made me angry.

This shop was also very popular and you had to queue for two hours every time you went to buy it.