The moment I glanced at the message, the water had stopped running at some point. Taylor stood behind me and demanded coldly, "Why are you looking at my phone?"

"I'm not—ah!"

He shoved me aside in anger. I lost my balance and fell hard to the floor. My arm scraped against the corner of the table, leaving a long gash, and my ankle was twisted.

Immediately, tears fell from my eyes. Nevertheless, Taylor didn't hurry to comfort me. Instead, he thought I'd hurt myself on purpose to win his sympathy.

With a look of irritation, he fetched the first-aid kit and began treating my wound. I didn't resist.

Halfway through, his phone rang. It was Yvonne's custom ringtone.

I once asked Taylor to set a custom ringtone for me, too. Yet, he'd claimed I was being childish.

On the phone, Yvonne whined, "Taylor, I think I drank too much… I feel awful and can't sleep."

Upon ending the call, Taylor didn't bother to finish tending to my wound. He simply grabbed the hangover medicine I had prepared and left promptly.

He ignored me when I called after him. I lowered my head and let my final tears fall.

After that, I called my best friend, Willa Collins. She rushed over and brought me to the hospital.

Once my wound was treated, Willa cast me a complicated look as she struggled with her words.

I knew what she wanted to say. She was probably wondering where Taylor had gone at this hour. But in the end, she didn't voice her question, and I didn't explain.

When Taylor finally came back, it was already evening. I was sitting on the couch, watching TV.

He glanced at the dining table to find it empty.

"Why didn't you make dinner?"

I turned to look at him and gestured toward my bandaged wound. While his expression shifted slightly, he quickly composed himself. A flicker of annoyance flashed across his eyes.

"Couldn't you have just ordered takeout?"

After all, he'd texted me an hour ago, saying he was coming home for dinner.

I shook my head calmly, unfazed by his frustration.

"My phone was charging in the bedroom. I didn't see your message."

Taylor opened his mouth as if to say something. Eventually, he sat down beside me and cast several glances my way, but I didn't acknowledge him.

Finally, he got up decisively and started making dinner in the kitchen.

In the ten years we'd been married, I had always been the one to cook. I couldn't bear to see him tired, and he'd never mentioned he could cook anyway.

It didn't take long before Taylor emerged with a simple meal.

He carried me to the table. I didn't tell him I'd already eaten and just quietly accepted the food he'd made for me for the first time.

Taylor looked at me and said, "This is all I know how to make. Next time, remember to order takeout."

He was lying.

That very afternoon, he had cooked an elaborate meal for Yvonne. It was beautifully plated and rich in flavor. She'd posted it on her social media with pride.

It was also the first time I learned that Taylor could cook.

I ate silently without replying. After a few bites, I was full. I placed my spoon down and stood to leave.

Taylor seemed to want to pull me into his arms again, but I instinctively leaned away. The motion knocked over my plate, and it shattered on the floor.

Taylor let out a sneer.

"Faith, what are you throwing a tantrum for this time? Is it because I forgot you were injured? Because I didn't finish tending to your wound last night? You're seriously still mad about that?"

"I'm not," I answered honestly.

But Taylor didn't believe me.

He narrowed his eyes in disdain and continued, "Oh, please. You used to throw full-blown tantrums, but they don't work. Now you think staying silent and acting unbothered is going to make me feel bad?

"Grow up, Faith. We've been married ten years, yet you're still playing these immature games like a little girl. Can't you use your brain for once?"

Lately, Taylor would bring up our age gap every time we fought.

Yes, compared to Yvonne, I wasn't a little girl anymore. Whenever he brought it up, I'd lose control. I'd yell and demand if he'd fallen for another girl. It only made him more irritated with me.

Not this time, though. I replied indifferently, "I never thought that. You can believe whatever you want."

Then I limped off to the guest room.

Whenever we argued, Taylor would make me sleep in the guest room. If I resisted, he'd lock the door to the master bedroom and leave me crying outside.

However, as I took the initiative this time, Taylor suddenly carried me back to the master bedroom.

"Faith, stop being so stubborn!"

Even though we lay on the same bed, there was enough space between us to fit another person.

Taylor was keeping his distance because of my swollen ankle, whereas I was keeping mine because I couldn't bear his touch anymore.

It hadn't always been like this. I used to curl up in his arms every night for a sense of security. But now, I couldn't sleep a wink due to his presence.

The next morning, I asked Taylor to call in sick for me so I could stay home and rest.

On the day I finally recovered, I came across an Instagram story of one of Taylor's childhood friends. They'd gone hiking. Everyone else had brought their girlfriends along, and Taylor had brought Yvonne.

In the video, Taylor was very protective of Yvonne, who leaned into him with a soft, shy smile.

I casually gave the story a like.

Moments later, it was deleted, and Taylor's video call came through.

He seemed to be hiding somewhere quiet as he spoke hesitantly, "Faith, don't overthink it. I didn't invite you to hike with us because of your ankle."

"Overthink what?"

"I brought Yvonne along instead of you… You're not mad?"

"Why would I be? You said it yourself—I couldn't have gone anyway because of my injury."

My voice was utterly calm without a trace of sadness or anger in it.

Taylor went silent.

Then, Yvonne's saccharine voice rang out in the background, "Faith, I was the one who begged Taylor to let me tag along when I heard he was going. Please don't misunderstand."

If one listened closely, there was a hint of smugness she couldn't quite hide.

"Yvonne, enjoy your hike with Taylor. I'm sure he'll take good care of you," I answered evenly and hung up the phone without waiting for a response.

It wasn't a lie. I did believe he'd take good care of her. After all, when Yvonne got drunk the other day, he had abandoned me despite my injuries and rushed to her side.

That night, Taylor came home with my favorite food. He kept observing my expression, as though hoping to spot some trace of anger.

Too bad for him—I wasn't angry.

After I showered, he handed me a dress.

"Babe, it's been a while since you bought new clothes. Try this one and see if you like it."

I looked down at the dress in my hands. It was obviously not my style. After accepting it, I looked up at him and saw only my reflection in his eyes.

Taylor's gaze was tender. It was hard to believe he didn't love me when he looked at me like that. I used to be obsessed with that look, wishing he'd never take his eyes off me.

But now, I lowered my head and avoided his gaze.

"The dress is beautiful, but it's not for me. You should give it to someone who suits it better."

The dress was clearly Yvonne's style. I even saw her post about liking it on her Instagram earlier.

"Faith, I thought you weren't mad. Then what's with the attitude now?"

Hearing Taylor's accusation, I felt extremely exhausted. I didn't even want to explain anymore that I truly wasn't upset at him. So, I silently accepted the dress and hung it in the closet.

As I lay on the bed and slowly drifted to sleep, a warm body pressed up against my back.

Taylor wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck. After a few kisses, he turned me to face him. Just as he was about to kiss my lips, I instinctively turned away and pushed him back.

He sat up angrily, turning on the bedside lamp to look at me.

"Faith, are you done?"

I used to love being intimate with Taylor, but he never liked it. Every time he touched me, it was only because he couldn't stand my pestering any longer.

I turned my back to him and said, "I'm really tired today. I'm going to sleep."

Taylor went quiet for a while. He used to say that to me, and now, I was using the same line.

The light stayed on for a long time. Taylor stood by the window and smoked for quite some time before going to sleep in the guest room.

That night, I slept better than I had in a long time.

I felt great the next day, and my work efficiency was through the roof.

A colleague even teasingly asked if something wonderful had happened to make me so energetic. I just smiled and said nothing. After all, getting a divorce wasn't exactly a wonderful thing.

Then, I suddenly remembered she knew an excellent divorce lawyer. With a smile, I said sincerely, "Can you give me the contact information of that divorce lawyer you mentioned previously?"

My colleague didn't think much of it. Everyone knew how much I loved Taylor, hence it was rather unimaginable that I was ever going to divorce him.

Because of that night, Taylor and I didn't speak for a whole week.

We'd never gone that long without talking since we got married. I used to love him so much that whenever we argued, I'd be the first to make up after only one day of cold war.

Right before I got off work one evening, Taylor messaged me.

"Percy's having a birthday party for her girlfriend. Wait for me at the entrance. We'll go together."

I didn't reply, and he didn't seem to care.

After work, his car pulled up in front of me. Yvonne was in the passenger seat as usual.

Taylor looked a bit flustered—maybe he was finally starting to sense something was wrong.

Meanwhile, I was unfazed as I got into the back seat. That was when I noticed that it was filled with shopping bags, and nearly all of them were Yvonne's.

The front seat had also been decorated in soft pinks, with a sign that read: "Yvonne's Spot."

I lowered my gaze and made idle chat with Willa on my phone, thinking about where we could go after the party. Engrossed, I completely ignored the complicated look Taylor was giving me.

The moment we arrived at the party, Percy Thompson and his girlfriend Beatrice Miller came to greet us.

"Faith, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked Taylor to go hiking that day. I forgot you injured your ankle."

Percy might have forgotten, but perhaps Taylor had never mentioned it to begin with. It was very likely he'd even forgotten about it himself.

Nonetheless, I didn't care about the reason.

I accepted Percy's apology. It was due to this incident that Taylor had assumed I was mad at him and gave me the cold shoulder for a whole week.

But I really wasn't angry.

"It's fine. As long as everyone had fun," I replied in a calm tone devoid of any pretense.