His throat bobbed as he dragged those two words out with difficulty, not apologizing for Lily's visit, but for the true instigator of all this pain, himself. Chloe gave a gentle sigh, filled with complete closure and a touch of faint pity. "Ethan, I don't need your apology anymore." She walked over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and slowly washed the clay off her hands.

The running water made her voice sound exceptionally clear. "Between us, everything was settled the moment you drove away from that airport. You owe me nothing and I hold no hatred toward you. I simply do not want to live that kind of life anymore, nor do I want a husband whose heart belongs to someone else."

She turned off the faucet, dried her hands with a clean cloth, turned around, and looked at him calmly, as if looking at an old acquaintance with whom she had nothing left to say. "Go back. Stop wasting your time here. You have your empire, your responsibilities, and your Ms. Lawson.

My current life is wonderful, peaceful, and fulfilling. This is what I want. Sign the papers and let's give each other a dignified end, okay? Ethan looked at her, taking in the unmistakable determination and unwavering finality in her eyes.

Sunlight spilled behind her, crowning her in a gentle gold fringe. She stood there before the rustic workshop, traces of clay still lingering on her skin, yet looking more authentic and radiant than she ever had in his memory. He realized with stark clarity that he hadn't just lost an obedient wife. He had lost a woman who had once loved him above all else, a genuine heart he had never treasured, and a warm, companionate future they could have had.

And now she had buried the past with her own hands, marching firmly along her chosen path without ever looking back. All his attempts at redemption appeared pathetic and laughable against her lucid finality. After a long silence, Ethan slowly and heavily nodded, as if draining every last drop of his strength. "All right," he rasped out, his voice scraping like sandpaper.

"I respect your choice. I will sign the agreement." Chloe didn't seem surprised, offering a subtle smile. In that smile was genuine relief.

"Thank you," she said. Then she re-tied her apron, sat back at the potter's wheel, picked up a fresh mound of clay, and immersed herself in her craft without giving him another glance. Ethan stood there for a few moments longer, gazing at her silhouette merged seamlessly with the clay, before silently stepping backward out of the sunny, earthy courtyard. He knew.

This time, it was truly time for him to make his exit from her life and from her heart. The day Ethan left Riverbend was overcast with low, light gray clouds and humid air signaling an impending storm. He didn't inform Chloe, nor did he visit Nie En Studio again. He simply instructed assistant Leo to deliver the signed and notarized divorce agreement along with deed transfer documents for the mansion and several prime properties under his name that Chloe might have liked, knowing full well she wouldn't accept them.

To Seven Clouds Lodge via his lawyer, asking Clara to hand them over. When Clara delivered the manila envelope to Chloe, her eyes were filled with mixed emotions, hesitating before finally saying, "Chloe, Mr. Vance left this morning. Before leaving, he sat in the courtyard for a long time." Chloe took the light envelope, thanked her calmly, her face unruffled.

Back in her room, she opened it and pulled out the divorce agreement first. Ethan Vance's signature was sharp and firm, though the final stroke harbored a barely noticeable tremor. She flipped to the last page, verified the terms, and picked up a pen to write Chloe Shen beside his name, her penmanship elegant yet carrying a grounded strength. Three years of marriage had begun with a rushed I do and ended on two thin sheets of paper signed by both parties, clean, concise, severed.

As for the property transfer agreement, she didn't even look at the details, tucking it back into the envelope and handing it to Clara. "Clara, could you please mail this back to this address? Return postage is fine." Having settled this final detail, Chloe felt the last lingering thread in her heart dissipate into the breeze.

She took a deep breath of the rain-scented earthy air, feeling not sorrow, but a weightless, newfound liberation. She kept one copy of the signed divorce papers and mailed the other back to Ethan's designated law firm. Then, she changed into comfortable work clothes and walked back toward Nie En Studio. Life went on.

Her pottery lessons and new creations were where her soul truly belonged. Days flowed like the river through the old town, quietly and gently. Chloe immersed herself completely in the world of ceramics. Under Master Miller's tutelage, her skills improved at an astounding pace, progressing from crooked clay mounds to crafting sleek, perfectly balanced cups, bowls, and vases.

She began trying delicate carvings on bisque clay, green bamboo, blue leaves, or painterly mountain strokes. Master Miller praised her work for its soulfulness and lack of commercial pretension. More importantly, she found a long-lost tranquility and sense of belonging here. She became close with Uncle Bob and Aunt Barb at the Alley Noodle Diner.

Every time she ordered, Aunt Barb would secretly add an extra scoop of house-made pickled veggies. She also befriended a retired folk storyteller at the tea house, occasionally sitting in for a performance where the storyteller shared the folklore behind the tunes. Clara treated her like a younger sister, reminding her to dress warmly on cold days, and always saving a plate whenever she cooked something delicious. She was no longer Mrs. Vance, living as someone's shadow.

She was Chloe Shen, a quiet, hard-working girl from out of town learning pottery. Three months later, Riverbend hosted its annual pottery arts festival. Master Miller encouraged Chloe to present a few of her proudest pieces at the emerging artisans showcase, not to chase awards, but to observe, connect with peers, and broaden her horizons. Though a bit nervous, Chloe, bolstered by her master and neighbors, carefully selected three pieces: a bisque-toned teacup with a calm, serene sky blue glaze brushed with soft gray.

A small straight vase carved with slender bamboo motifs. Fresh and elegant. And her most painstaking work, a wide-rimmed bowl inspired by classical Song Dynasty tea chalices finished with a rare oil spot glaze. It had taken immense effort to fire, turning out rustic, charming, and unique.

On the day of the festival, the town was 10 times livelier than usual. The main streets and squares were lined with ceramic booths featuring masterworks and apprentice pieces alike. Chloe's booth was tucked in a modest corner, but she had decorated it thoughtfully. Draping an indigo tie-dyed tablecloth, she arranged the three pieces at varying heights alongside a sprig of wild reed gathered from the river, creating an organic, poetic charm.

She hadn't expected much, sitting quietly on a wooden stool watching the crowd pass by. To her surprise, her creations, with their organic forms, gentle glazes, and understated aesthetic, caught the eyes of connoisseurs and art enthusiasts. Visitors stopped to admire them, asking about prices, and discussing firing techniques. An elderly gentleman with glasses and a scholarly demeanor lingered at her booth for a long time, entranced by the oil-spot glazed bowl.

Praising its classical elegance, he ultimately purchased it for a handsome sum. Before leaving, he handed her a business card. He was the vice president of the State Ceramic Arts Association, inviting her to visit their headquarters. Chloe was overjoyed.