Ian Ludwig and I have grown more in sync in the eight years we have been married.

I believe him when he lies to me that he's on a business trip, when in reality he's buying a villa for Francesca Yarrington, his childhood friend.

He also believes me when I hand him a divorce agreement, saying that it is a property transfer agreement.

There's still one month left in the cooling-off period before our divorce is finalized. That gives me just enough time to clear out everything from our eight years of marriage.

I was packing up my suitcases when my husband, Ian Ludwig, returned.

Without waiting for his question, I explained that my best friend, Nova Glenhill, was getting married and that I would be her bridesmaid in a couple of days.

Ian let out a quiet sigh of relief before crouching down casually to help me pack. I merely set aside whatever he handed over without a word.

My indifference finally got to him. He snapped, "I already said everything that needed to be said over the phone! What more are you unhappy about?"

What more could I possibly be unhappy about?

One moment, Ian texted me saying that he was in a meeting and not to bother him. And the next, Francesca posted a photo on her social media flaunting that he was house-hunting with her.

The man looking at her so fondly in the photo was my husband—the same man who'd been coldly replying to my texts.

Upon seeing how silent I was, Ian said irritably, "Just tell me what you want from me. We're going to my parents' place this afternoon, so stop with that long face of yours."

I have been married to him for eight years, but I have never gotten pregnant. His parents never said anything outright, but their disappointment grew with each passing year.

They'd make passive-aggressive jabs every time we had a meal together. Ian would just watch silently, only changing the subject when he saw I was at my breaking point.

I used to think that he was stepping in to spare my feelings. But now, I realized that he simply counted on me to put up with everything.

I got up and walked into the bedroom, returning with a property transfer agreement. I handed it to Ian and said, "Sign this, and I'll put the whole thing behind us."

He raised his brows when he saw the bolded words at the top of the page. A flicker of contempt crossed his eyes.

Over the years, Ian had flown abroad countless times to see Francesca behind my back. And every time, she'd conveniently "forget" to block me from seeing her social media.

At first, he'd apologize over and over to appease me, but the apologies stopped when he saw how easily I forgave him.

Instead, he'd come back with a handbag or jewelry set, as if that was enough in place of an apology.

Although the gifts added up to a considerable sum over the years, it was still nothing compared to this house.

After a moment, Ian smirked coldly and took the property transfer agreement from me. Feeling nervous, I reached out to take it back, but was interrupted by his ringing phone.

He glanced at me, then answered the call without bothering to step away. I wasn't sure what was said to him, but his expression changed suddenly, and he turned to leave.

I quickly grabbed the corner of his shirt and said, "Sign the agreement before you go."

Ian parted his lips slightly before smirking, the mockery in his gaze evident. He flipped straight to the last page, signed his name without hesitation, then turned to walk away.

"Go to the Ludwig residence on your own later," he said.

Once the door closed behind him, I tore off the top page of the agreement, revealing the bolded words—"Divorce Agreement".

If Ian had just been patient with me before answering Francesca's call, he would've discovered the truth.

My hand trembled slightly as I held the divorce agreement.

There was only one month left, just enough to erase the eight years I spent with him.

I wasn't at all surprised to see Francesca at the Ludwig residence. Their families had been neighbors for years and got along fairly well.

Gloria Denver, Ian's mother, never even tried to hide how much she liked Francesca. She had always regretted not being able to make Francesca her daughter-in-law.

When Francesca's family migrated abroad, both families hugged and cried for the longest time.

Now that she was back in the country, everyone had gathered around, laughing and chatting happily. No one noticed me even when I walked in and made my way to the dining table.

The chatter only stopped abruptly when the sound of me pulling the chair screeched. Gloria's eyes flashed with irritation at my interruption.

A guilty look crossed Ian's face as he got up to help me get settled in my seat. He then explained, "Francesca said she hasn't had our home-cooked meal in a while, that's why…"

Francesca bolted up before he could finish speaking. Her voice was tinged with nervousness as she said, "I'm sorry, Evelyn. It's my fault for craving their home-cooked meal. If you're upset, just blame it on me. Don't blame Ian or Gloria."

Before I could react, Gloria gently spoke to her goddaughter, Francesca. "What are you talking about? This is your home—who'd dare to blame you?"

Ian's hand tightened slightly over mine. Finding it ironic, I softly said, "Gloria's right—it's just a meal, after all."

It was just a meal. This wasn't the first time it had happened, anyway.

Francesca threw a party the night before she left the country. I was burning with a fever at home, barely conscious.

Ian answered with a drunken slur when I called. Upon hearing my request for him to take me to the hospital, he snapped, "I'm just out for dinner! Did you really have to call me repeatedly?"

On our fifth wedding anniversary, he delayed telling me his flight details. It wasn't until dinner had gone cold and the restaurant was closing that he finally picked up the video call.

He said, "Francesca twisted her ankle, so I'm staying here to take care of her. Don't bother waiting for me. It's just dinner—it doesn't matter even if we have it another time."

I made a huge fuss on those two occasions, but he managed to calm me down.

Perhaps I should've left him back then.

Ian smiled when he saw I wasn't upset. "I knew Eve wouldn't get upset over something so trivial when she's so gentle and understanding. You shouldn't blame yourself, Francesca."

Surprise crossed Francesca's gaze, yet she continued to bite down on her lip. "Evelyn might forgive me because she's kind, but I really was in the wrong—so let me make it up with three shots!"

Ian stopped her just as she was about to down her alcohol. "How can you drink like that when you're allergic to alcohol? Besides, it's not a big deal. So what if we deliberately didn't wait for her?"

Then, feeling that he had gone overboard with his words, he turned around and softly comforted me, "I only said that because Francesca is allergic to alcohol, Eve. Please don't take it to heart."

"Of course I won't," I replied. There was no point arguing with a man I was about to divorce anyway.

Seemingly satisfied with how I was handling things, Ian continued to ease the tension. "You love fish, so I asked Anna to make you some today."

Anna Wonstein brought the dish to the table right on cue.

Francesca started gagging at an inopportune time. "Take it away, Ian. My stomach's been off lately. I can't handle the smell of fish."

She was frowning with a hand covering her mouth, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Concern flashed across Ian's gaze. He picked up the dish and handed it over to Anna beside him. "Just toss it away."

When he came back to his senses, only then did he notice my hands, still holding my cutlery, frozen in midair. He parted his lips to say something.

Under his gaze, I gently set my cutlery down on the table. "I just remembered I have something else to take care of. I'll be taking my leave now."

Ian's gaze darkened as he grabbed my wrist. "What are you throwing a tantrum for now, Evelyn?"

I brushed his hand off and leaned in close to his ear. "There are lilies in the living room today. I'm a bit allergic—I can't stay any longer."

Something unreadable flickered in Ian's eyes as he glanced over to the beautifully wrapped lilies. He said nothing to stop me from leaving eventually.

Those flowers were Francesca's gift for Gloria. Gloria was fond of them naturally—she'd cherish anything that came from Francesca.

Everyone was in a good mood. There was no need to ruin that over me.

I knew that very well.

I started packing up once I got home. Ian wouldn't be back tonight with Francesca around.

In a way, I should be thanking her—she gave me all the time I needed to pack up. After all, it took me eight years to fill this home.

However, Ian actually came back home that night.

He sighed when he saw the mess and the open suitcase. "We've been fighting over the same thing for eight years. Aren't you tired?"

Ian probably meant my jealousy over Francesca.

I was more interested in knowing what made her let him come back. The answer came a second later.

Ian said, "Francesca said you're probably upset again and insisted I come back to coax you. When would you understand that Francesca is only like a sister to me, Eve?"

He crouched down halfway in front of me and wrapped me in his arms. "If you're craving fish, I'll take you out for a full seafood dinner tomorrow. And if you don't like lilies, I'll tell Francesca not to buy them again. Don't be mad anymore, okay?"

I suddenly burst out laughing as I looked into Ian's eyes full of sincerity.

I wondered if he had forgotten about what happened in the short two years from when we first met to when Francesca left the country. I had three allergic reactions, all because of her.

The first time we met, she gave me lilies as a gift.

I was about to decline, clearly uncomfortable, but Ian took them over and pushed them into my arms.

"It's a gift from Francesca. You should just accept them first and set them aside later," he said.

But because of that, I broke out in hives and ended up in the hospital. Even then, I didn't blame anyone.

Francesca broke down in tears upon learning what had happened. Ian took her to see the grandest display of fireworks to comfort her, leaving me all alone in the hospital ward.

However, later I heard from one of his friends that she had actually inquired about the flowers I liked. His friend told her it was anything but lilies.

When I told Ian, he brushed it off by saying Francesca probably misheard it as "nothing but lilies", given her carelessness.

She had different excuses for the next two times. And every time, he believed her.

This was the fourth time—and there won't be a fifth.

As the silence stretched between us, Ian's eyes lit up when he noticed my outfit. "It's been a while since I saw you in this dress."

I looked down, only to realize it was the dress I had worn for our engagement. Mom had made it herself.

While I was packing, I realized all my clothes were bought by Ian after we got married. I didn't want to take any of it with me.

I'd forgotten about this dress, which he had taken off me himself while coaxing me to give all of myself to him.

Ian's eyes were clouded with lust as his breathing grew heavier. "I've been busy lately. I haven't had the chance to really spend time with you."

He slowly leaned in, his warm breath brushing against the sensitive spot behind my ear.

My body tensed up involuntarily, and I heard myself speaking in a cold and distant tone. "Let's not. Francesca has just returned and isn't accustomed to everything. She'll need you there for her soon, won't you?"

Ian frowned. His phone rang just as he was about to reply. With a conflicting look, he answered the call.

Even as he hurried out the door, he still turned back to defend Francesca. "Don't be so petty all the time. Just wait for me here—I'll be back soon."

The door closed behind Ian, and I collapsed to the floor, my strength drained.

I furiously scrubbed the spot where he'd touched me with the back of my hand. But no matter how hard I rubbed, the feeling of being tainted wouldn't go away.

I had overestimated myself for thinking that I could walk away quietly.

My hands moved faster as I packed everything up. Everything was done in just an hour's time. The place barely looked any different when I looked around.

I didn't realize how easy it was to erase someone's existence.

I left the divorce agreement behind and walked away for good.