The Paper Trail of Our Failures Novel Chapter 1

I married the same man seven times.

And he divorced me seven times for the woman he truly loved.

When we first got married, he told me, “I’ll love you—only you—for the rest of my life.”

But every time that woman returned to the country, he became a different person. “Can’t you be more understanding? Do you really have to make Cara look like some homewrecker?”

The first time we divorced, I slit my wrists, trying to make him stay. The ambulance rushed me to the hospital, but he never came to see me—not even once.

After the second divorce, I stooped so low as to apply to be his assistant, just to catch glimpses of him now and then.

By the sixth divorce, I’d become accustomed to packing up and moving out of our home on my own.

My hysterics, my begging, my compromises—all fed into the same cruel cycle: he’d marry me again, only to leave the moment she returned.

This time, I decided to end it all. When I found out she was coming back, I handed him the divorce papers myself.

As usual, he set a date for our next remarriage, not knowing I was leaving for good.

***

“Carolina is back. Let’s get a divorce.”

I handed the signed divorce agreement to my husband, Orlando Wagner, with a blank face.

He was clearly caught off guard for a second, but quickly regained his composure and signed the papers with practiced ease. It was the first time I had been the one to bring up the divorce.

Just like the previous six times, he promised, “We’ll remarry after she leaves in a month.”

The old me would have made him swear a solemn oath or put it in writing. His word alone wasn’t enough to make me feel secure.

But this time, I felt nothing. I didn’t even want to respond.

“Gretchen, I’m talking to you.”

Orlando frowned, clearly unhappy with my silence.

I nodded. “OK.”

As I spoke, I kept folding clothes and placing them into my suitcase.

Since Orlando promised we’d remarry in a month, he would keep his word.

One thing was certain—he had a well-known reputation in the business world for honoring his promises.

To be honest, we weren’t exactly like husband and wife.

We were more like business partners, endlessly renewing and ending agreements—marriage certificates, then divorce papers—always within a set timeframe.

We had two contracts a year. By now, I had signed twelve of them.

I still remembered what Orlando told me at our first wedding. “I won’t betray you while we’re married.”

And he never did.

After all, whenever he wanted to be with that woman, he simply asked for a divorce.

The cost was that I became the laughingstock of our social circle—the woman who would do anything to keep him, only to be discarded once I was no longer useful.

I wasn’t like myself today, which seemed to unsettle Orlando.

He still vividly remembered how hysterical I had been during our previous divorces—how I’d even hurt myself.

Watching me pack more quickly and skillfully than the last time, he said stiffly, “How about I move out this time—”

I snapped my oversized suitcase shut, cutting him off.

“I’ve already talked to Kristen. I’ll stay at her place for a few days.”

Orlando’s expression darkened, as if he’d just remembered something.

“Don’t tell me you’re playing hard to get again—planning to pose as my assistant and wait for me in the office.

“Gretchen, give me a break. Can’t you find something else to do? Stop acting so pathetic, like you can’t live without me.”

I understood exactly what he meant. He didn’t want me showing up at the office and interrupting his time with Carolina Ramsey.

She rarely came back, after all. Of course, he wanted her by his side as his assistant around the clock.

After the second divorce, I applied to be Orlando’s assistant and got the job. One day, holding his favorite latte, I pushed open his office door eagerly.

Yet what came into my view was him passionately kissing Carolina on his lap.

I lost it and slapped her. Then Orlando slapped me back, harder, and I fell to the floor.

Curious onlookers gathered outside the door.

They thought I was still married to Orlando and looked at Carolina with contempt.

To protect her from judgment, Orlando snatched my bag and dumped everything out—right in front of everyone, though I cried desperately, shaking my head, begging him not to.

The divorce certificate fell into plain view, exposing the truth about our relationship to everyone.

From then on, every time we divorced, Orlando would post a photo of our divorce certificate on Instagram.

Soon, everyone knew Carolina was his true love, and I was just the desperate ex who wouldn’t let go.

But this time, Orlando’s worries were unnecessary.

I picked up my suitcase without hesitation.

“Relax. I won’t bother you and Carolina again.”

He watched me skeptically. It wasn’t until I had one foot out the door that he spoke again, his voice tinged with urgency. “We’ll remarry on the 13th of next month. Don’t forget.”

For a moment, I was stunned.

What a coincidence. That was exactly the day I was leaving the country.