The first light of dawn slipped through the curtains, drawing a pale gold edge across the bedroom.
The alarm hadn't rung yet, but Ethan was already awake.
He barely slept last night, yet his body didn't feel tired.
A soul that had shattered in darkness once… won't break again from something as small as insomnia.
Beside him, Lena slept curled up in the blanket, her brows slightly knitted as if trapped in a light nightmare.
Mia lay next to her, tiny arms draped over her mother, mumbling something in her sleep.
In another life, before the world fell apart, Ethan might've found this scene heart-warming.
Now?
He only felt—
It needed to end.
Quietly, he slipped out of bed and closed the door behind him.
The living room was silent.
A framed family photo sat above the shoe cabinet—
a younger Ethan smiling foolishly, Lena leaning on his shoulder, Mia in his arms, all three grinning naively at the camera.
Ethan stared at the picture for a few seconds.
Then he lifted the frame.
And tossed it lightly.
It vanished into thin air.
In the vast, silent space inside his mind—
the Infinite Storage—
the photo frame landed without a sound.
Last night, he tested it again and again.
A hot cup of water.
An iron hanger.
A pillow.
The entire nightstand.
Every item disappeared with his thought, reappearing perfectly intact inside that limitless, time-frozen space.
As long as it was a non-living object within a two-kilometer radius,
his mind could lock onto it.
And it would enter his Storage.
No deterioration.
No time flow.
No visible space limit.
It wasn't a dream.
It was a miracle—
or the closest thing humanity would ever have to one.
Ethan didn't rush to stockpile items.
As powerful as the Infinite Storage was…
divorce came first.
—
In the kitchen, he cracked an egg into a pan.
Oil sizzled lightly.
The toaster spat out two browned slices of bread.
He spread butter, then jam, with a practiced hand.
He had done this countless times.
Breakfast, diets, little routines—
all from a life that no longer belonged to him.
He placed the food on the table, picked up his phone, and tapped the calendar.
July 17th, 2128.
A year and some days before the Great Freeze—the first apocalypse phase.
He remembered every key moment:
The first weather anomalies.
The panic waves.
The riots.
The government's first emergency announcement.
The day heating systems failed.
The day people rushed stores and fought for canned food.
The day humanity realized winter wouldn't end.
He knew it all.
But now wasn't the time for any of it.
Today, he needed to sever the last tie of his old life.
—
The bedroom door opened.
Lena walked out, yawning, wrapped in a loose robe, her hair messy, eyelids still heavy with sleep.
"You're up early," she mumbled.
Ethan slid a plate toward her.
"Eat."
His tone was flat.
Too flat.
Lena blinked, surprised.
He usually asked if she wanted something else… nagged her to drink milk… reminded her not to be late…
Today, none of that.
"Did you… have a nightmare last night?" she asked cautiously.
"I think I heard you shouting."
"Mm."
No explanation.
No follow-up.
Lena hesitated, then sat down with her milk.
As she lifted her phone, Ethan's gaze casually drifted toward her—
But he didn't need to look.
Her screen lit up with unread messages from a name Ethan would never forget:
Shawn.
Lena stiffened.
She stole a sideways glance.
Ethan seemed focused on eating.
Unsure, she lowered her head and typed quickly, shielding her phone behind the edge of the table.
[Ethan seems… strange today. I think he had a nightmare.]
[I'm… a little scared.]
Her thumb hovered over "Send."
A hand pressed down on her phone.
Not forcefully—
but with a firm, unarguable dominance.
Lena froze.
Her heartbeat tripped.
Ethan looked at her with a calmness that felt more terrifying than anger.
"Talking about work this early?"
His voice was faint.
"I—I was just…" she stammered.
"What you typed," Ethan interrupted softly,
"wasn't about work."
Lena went white.
"You… saw it?"
"You were shaking so hard while typing," Ethan said, taking a slow sip of his milk,
"I thought you were trying to crack your own phone."
Her breath caught.
Her mouth opened—but her brain produced nothing.
"And tell me," Ethan continued,
"why's Shawn the first person you message when you're 'worried about me'?"
Lena gripped her phone tightly.
Her throat felt dry.
"I—I was just asking about the project today… you're overthinking things…"
"I'm not joking."
His voice lowered.
A chill crept up her spine.
She'd never seen him like this.
Not furious.
Not cold war.
Not disappointment.
But a quiet, surgical detachment—
like a doctor calmly covering a corpse.
Lena clutched at the table.
"What did you dream about? Tell me! Don't look at me like this, you're scaring me!"
"I dreamed," Ethan said slowly,
"about you and Shawn performing a ten-year play together."
Lena shot up, chair screeching across the floor.
"You—what nonsense are you talking about?!"
"Relax," he smiled faintly.
"It was just a dream."
"I didn't do anything!" Lena's voice cracked.
"You're accusing me based on a dream?!"
"Not based on a dream."
Ethan wiped his hands with a napkin, unfazed.
"But based on reality."
"Wha—what proof do you have?!" she shouted, eyes turning red.
"If you can't prove anything, you're slandering me!"
"Proof," Ethan murmured,
"is exactly what you fear the most."
Her fingers trembled.
Her heart pounded painfully.
She suddenly felt like she didn't recognize the man across from her.
His gaze wasn't emotional—it was absolute judgment.
"Ethan… are you under stress?" she forced her voice to soften.
"Don't scare me, okay? We're just ordinary people… we just want to live a normal life…"
"Lena."
He cut her off.
"I told you before. If one day you felt unhappy or wronged, you could talk to me. We could fix things."
He stood up slowly.
"But you never chose honesty."
His eyes were unwavering.
"And when I make a decision… I don't go back."
Lena felt her legs weaken.
He continued:
"Finish breakfast. Take a shower. Send Mia to your mother's place.
Then we're going to the Civil Affairs Bureau."
Her breath stopped.
"W-what?"
"Divorce," he repeated calmly.
The word dropped like a stone into ice water.
Lena felt all warmth drain from her body.
"You're insane! Just because of a dream?! You want to divorce me?! Are you mentally sick?!"
"It wasn't a dream."
Ethan's voice grew colder.
"I simply woke up."
"Where's your proof?! What did I do wrong?! How can you say Mia isn't—"
"Lena."
His tone sliced through her words.
"Don't use the child to bargain."
Lena stared in horror.
"No… what do you mean? What do you mean?!"
"I don't want to waste time."
Ethan checked the time.
"So let's be efficient."
He said:
"Mia goes with you.
The house stays with you.
The car stays with you.
Your personal money is yours.
Every other asset stays with me."
She froze.
This was not the reaction of a man who wanted a fight.
This was a man who was done.
Completely.
Her voice trembled.
"Why… why are you giving me everything?"
"Because I won't spend another second bargaining with you."
He stood straighter.
"And because Mia is innocent. This is what an 'uncle' can give her."
Lena's heart nearly stopped.
"Ethan… what are you saying…?"
"You heard me."
Ethan's eyes met hers—emotionless.
"This ends today.
Tomorrow, you won't be able to take anything."
Silence.
The clock ticked loudly on the wall.
Lena, for the first time, realized—
she had already lost.
No matter how she cried.
No matter how she raged.
No matter how she begged.
He would not change his mind.
In the bedroom, Ethan stood by the bed, watching Mia sleep.
Her face was soft, innocent, her tiny eyelashes resting lightly on her cheeks.
His heart still ached.
Not for Lena.
But for the child who never chose any of this.
He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead gently.
"Grow up well," he whispered inwardly.
"And don't learn from your mother."
He straightened.
He had many things to do.
Divorce was only step one.
Next came money.
Resources.
Connections.
Territory.
Shelters.
Preparations.
He had one year.
One year to change everything.
He walked out of the bedroom, leaving a prepared divorce agreement on the table.
"I don't have time to waste," he said quietly.
"Sign it as soon as possible."