---- The moving truck had already arrived at the foot of the apartment building. Miranda went downstairs with a bag of trash, and I saw the account book inside. Suddenly, I felt uneasy. It was as if she was not about to throw away trash, but the love we had over the years. I called out to Miranda. After some humming and hawing, I asked, "How many points did I have left in the end, Miranda?" She looked at the bag of trash and said with a smile, "Zero, of course. Why else would I suggest a divorce?" I felt my breath still, and my mind went blank. Thad thought that perhaps I still had ten to twenty points left despite failing, maybe even one point. I never thought that I would have zero. This meant that everything we had over the past ---- few years had been reduced to nothing. She wanted to rid me from her life, and I would have nothing to do with her anymore. This was not how things should be, though. I had planned for us to reflect on our actions and get over this seven-year itch. Miranda would then become more mature and considerate. After that, I would love her, just like I did in the past. Yet, this situation made me feel like a scriptwriter who had written out the script, but the female lead decided to go on strike. I stood at the gate and watched the driver load my luggage bags into the truck. As Miranda threw the trash into the bin at the entrance, I felt lost. Then, Miranda got rid of my fingerprint ID and face ID right in front of me. Following that, she extended her hand to me. "Give me the gate card and apartment keys too. ---- It'll be safer." Like a machine, I handed the items to her. Before I let go, I tentatively said, "I'm worried about leaving some things behind. Why don't I-" "Tf you've left something behind, send mea message." She interrupted. "Once we get the divorce certificate, I'll bring them over to you. If you're in a hurry to get them, I'll mail them to you." The driver had put my last luggage bag into the truck. With the keys and card in hand, Miranda gave mea nod and shut the door without hesitation. I sat in the front passenger seat while my eyes were glued to the trash can. The truck was already dozens of yards away when I said, "Stop." For the first time, I thanked the stars that Miranda had the habit of sorting through her trash. Plus, the trash from the study was all ---- papers. The driver said nothing. He just put on a sad song about a broken heart. At night, I sat in the study in my new house. Before me was the scoring sheet that Miranda had thrown away.