Alexander had arrived.

Amy met his gaze with an unreadable expression. "Shall we?" she said coolly.

She had expected him to come. He always put everything else before her. Besides, she still held Nathan's letter of forgiveness—his one weakness.

The two of them walked into the courthouse, one leading, the other following.

Inside, the marriage registration area was nearly empty, but the divorce section was packed. A long line of couples waited, each with their own story etched on their faces.

Some stood in icy silence, their indifference palpable. Others were still locked in bitter arguments, hurling accusations like weapons. A few wept openly, clinging to their partners as if begging for one last chance. And then there were those who looked almost relieved, their expressions betraying their eagerness for freedom.

The moment they stepped inside, an attendant approached. "Mr. Blackwood, right this way."

Of course. Alexander had arranged everything in advance. When he wanted something done, efficiency was guaranteed.

They were ushered into a private room where a clerk waited with their paperwork.

As they sat in silence, Alexander suddenly spoke. "Amy, if you're having second thoughts, now's the time to say so."

She let out a dry laugh.

His dark eyes sharpened, a dangerous glint flashing within them. "When regret comes knocking, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Since when did you become so dramatic? Do you still want Nathan’s letter or not?"

Alexander clenched his jaw but said nothing.

Ten minutes later, the clerk finished processing their cooling-off period documents.

"You have one month to reconsider. If you both still wish to proceed, return after that time to finalize everything," the clerk explained.

Amy took the papers with a polite nod.

As they stepped back into the main hall, chaos erupted.

"What kind of joke is this? I've been trying to book an appointment for weeks! Every damn time, it's the same—'fully booked.' Can't get a slot online, can't get one in person. When the hell am I supposed to get this done?" A burly man slammed his fist on the counter, his face red with frustration.

Other disgruntled couples quickly joined in.

"Same here! I've been checking every day for a month. The system only opens slots a month in advance—who knew divorces were this hard to schedule?"

"Why is there a quota on divorces but not marriages?"

"I'll pay a grand for someone's appointment slot!"

"A grand? That's nothing. I'll pay three!"

"Five thousand! I swear, I'm getting this done today!"

"Ten thousand! I can't stay with that monster another day. He finally agreed to sign, and if I don’t do this now, he’ll change his mind—I can’t risk it!"

A bystander frowned. "If he's abusive, why not just file a lawsuit?"

The woman wiped her tears. "I did. It took eight months. He stood in court, crying about how much he loved me, how it was just a 'moment of weakness,' how he'd never do it again. The judge believed him. The second we got home, he hit me again."