The pills I keep by my bedside have been swapped with vitamins. I almost die after getting a heart attack.

After the stent surgery, I ask my husband, Evan Whitmore, to find out who did it. I just want the truth.

However, he doesn't even look up and just brushes me off.

"It was just a mistake. Cecilia probably grabbed the wrong bottle. She bought those vitamins for me.

"Don't push this. She has asthma. She can't handle stress."

I stare at him in shock, my chest tightening. I can't tell if the pain is from my healing heart or from the words he just threw at me.

Cecilia Monroe is his secretary, and he always takes her side.

That moment is when I realize that our five years of marriage mean nothing to him at all.

"Evan, water..."

I woke up from anesthesia with a throat so dry it felt like it was splitting apart.

However, Evan Whitmore didn't even glance up. He was glued to his phone. His fingers were flitting quickly across the screen.

It wasn't until the nurse walked in and noticed my parched lips that someone finally responded. She hurried toward me. "Mrs. Whitmore, do you need something? Let me get it for you."

Only then did Evan raise his head, apparently realizing I was awake. "Cecilia said she'll be here soon," he said flatly.

"I don't want to see her," I whispered.

He sighed impatiently, as if I was exhausting him. "Can you stop making a scene? She didn't do it intentionally. I already told you. She bought those vitamins for me. She wasn't trying to hurt you."

I pushed through the stabbing pain in my chest and forced myself to respond. "How could it have been a mistake? The packaging isn't even close to mine."

"Do you have to be so dramatic? You're fine now, aren't you?"

"Fine? I just had stent surgery! I almost died!"

Just then, there was a soft knock at the door. Cecilia Monroe stood there. Her eyes were red.

Evan gave me a warning glance and lowered his voice. "Don't upset her. She has asthma."

Cecilia stepped inside, looking tearful and frail. "Rebecca, I'm so sorry. It was all my fault. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Tears rolled gently down her face as if she were devastated.

I turned my head away, unwilling to watch her performance.

Seeing this, Evan's expression darkened, and he snapped at me. "Can't you just be a little forgiving? She came here to apologize. What more do you want?"

Cecilia immediately placed a hand on her chest and started gasping. She bent forward as if she might faint. "I... I shouldn't have come... I'm really sorry..." Her voice faded, and she turned alarmingly pale.

Evan panicked, quickly grabbing her shoulders. "Cecilia, calm down. Let's get you to a doctor!"

He rushed out with her in his arms. He did not even notice that my bandages were soaked through with fresh blood.

Later that evening, Evan sent me a short text.

"Something urgent came up at work. I have to go out of town for a few days. I'll check in when I get back."

That same night, I saw Cecilia's latest social media post. The background was identical to my hospital room. She was lying on the bed with a sweet smile, while Evan sat beside her. He was gently feeding her a spoonful of soup.

Her caption read, "Thank you, Mr. Whitmore, for the paid sick leave and thoughtful meal service."

If it had been before, I would've immediately called Evan and demanded an explanation, even if it turned into another ugly, exhausting fight.

But now, I quietly called my lawyer.

"I need divorce papers prepared," I said. "The sooner, the better."

...

On the day I was discharged from the hospital, I had barely stepped out of the front door when I saw Evan's car parked nearby.

When he noticed me, he looked startled. A flicker of panic crossed his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm getting discharged today. Aren't you here to pick me up?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

He hesitated briefly, then forced an awkward smile. "Oh, right. Yes, I'm here to get you."

I climbed into the car, and the moment I sat down, the strong scent of women's perfume overwhelmed me.

Makeup items and handbags were scattered carelessly across the back seat. A black piece of lingerie peeked out from between the passenger seat cushions. It was so blatant that I felt like I couldn't breathe.

Following my gaze, Evan's face immediately darkened. He quickly grabbed the tiny piece of fabric, shoving it hastily into his pocket. "My driver used the car yesterday," he muttered. "That idiot... I'll dock his pay."

The air grew tense and heavy with silence. I kept my head lowered, not saying a word.

Sensing that I seemed upset, Evan reached behind him and handed me a gift bag from the back seat. His voice carried a forced cheerfulness. He was clearly hoping to please me. "Here, a gift to celebrate you leaving the hospital."

I took the bag, and as soon as my fingers touched the packaging, I could tell it had been opened before.

Inside was a necklace adorned with flashy crystals—exactly the kind of gaudy style Cecilia preferred. A long strand of hair was even stuck to the inner lining of the box.

I laughed bitterly and tossed the necklace back onto the seat.

"What's wrong? You don't like it? I bought that especially for you," he said.

"I don't want something that someone else has already used."

His expression darkened in an instant. Anger surged into his eyes, and he snapped defensively, "What's that supposed to mean?"

I stared directly at him and said coldly, "Do I really need to spell it out for you? It disgusts me!"

He slammed a hand on the steering wheel and growled through clenched teeth. "Stop being so ridiculous! You're just imagining things!"

The anger in me was so intense that my chest tightened painfully. I took a deep breath, managing to say with difficulty, "Stop the car. Let me out."

Without a word, he abruptly hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. I had barely stepped out of the car when he hit the gas and sped off without looking back.

I stood motionless. The pain in my chest lingered long after he had driven away.

Right then, faint notes of piano music drifted from the store beside me. I looked up and froze. It was a piano shop—the very one where Evan and I first met five years ago.

That day, I'd been helping a friend at her store, playing Chopin's "The Farewell Waltz".

Evan happened to walk past and was drawn in by the melody. He lingered by the doorway for a long while.

After I finished playing, he approached me. He complimented my performance and said it was exactly like a dream.

From then on, he pursued me eagerly, often mentioning our shared love for music.

Eventually, we married. For a time, our marriage was harmonious and fulfilling. I genuinely believed we'd grow old together.

But things changed after he started his own business. He asked me to leave my performances behind, support his career, and focus on our family.

Then, Cecilia appeared, and Evan transformed into someone I hardly recognized. The same man who once adored hearing me play the piano now resented even the faint sound of my practicing at home.

I stood silently outside the piano shop as the music faded into silence.

I took out my phone and dialed the number of Diego Leonard, the conductor of our orchestra. My voice trembled as I spoke. "Is it... Is it possible for me to come back?"

The line was quiet for a moment before an angry voice exploded, "I told you not to leave back then! Now you regret it? Now you finally think about coming back?"

His scolding made my eyes sting. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't find a single word to say.

Hearing my quiet sobs, Diego's tone softened. "Hey, why are you crying? The principal position is gone, but there's still a place for you here. Just come back."

Listening to his reassurance, my tears flowed even harder.

Five years ago, I played Chopin's "The Farewell Waltz" in this piano shop. I never imagined that the sadness in the music would someday mirror my heartbreak, as if everything had been destined.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from my lawyer. "Ms. Tucker, your divorce documents are ready and have been sent to your email. Please check them at your convenience."

After returning home, I turned on my computer, printed the papers, and picked up a pen. My fingers trembled slightly as I held it, hovering hesitantly over the paper.

Closing my eyes briefly, I took a deep breath, then slowly signed my name. Each stroke felt like a painful cut through my heart.

After signing, I picked up the phone and called Evan. He rejected the call immediately. I tried again, and again it was declined.

On the third try, he finally answered, clearly irritated. "What is it now? Can't you just leave me alone?"

Listening to his cold voice, emotions surged in my chest, threatening to burst out. Forcing myself to stay calm, I spoke steadily, fighting hard to hide the tremor in my voice. "Come home. We need to talk."

He scoffed impatiently. "I don't have time. If you need something, you can come here."

Clenching the phone tightly, I said through gritted teeth, "Then send me your location."

A moment later, my phone lit up with a new message showing his location. I grasped the divorce papers tightly and left the house.

Headlights flashed past as I drove through the city. My thoughts were chaotic yet strangely calm, as if all my turmoil had finally settled in this one decisive moment.

Stepping out of the car, I walked down the bustling hallway, following the room numbers until I reached his private room.

Before I even pushed open the door, loud music and laughter echoed clearly through the walls. Among those voices was the familiar laughter of Cecilia.

I stood outside the door, took a deep breath, clutched the divorce papers in my hand, and pushed the door open.

Colorful lights and deafening music flooded out at me, mingled with heavy scents of alcohol and cigarettes.

Evan reclined lazily on a couch. Cecilia was nestled closely beside him, smiling sweetly and enjoying the attention. People around them raised their glasses cheerfully, celebrating in full swing.

I stood in the doorway, taking in the scene.

Evan glanced up, and his expression darkened slightly. I caught a flash of annoyance before his indifference returned.

I stepped closer and said evenly, "I need to speak with you."

He waved me off impatiently, frowning. "Not now. It's Cecilia's birthday. Wait until she blows out the candles."

Cecilia heard this and smiled smugly, turning toward me. "That's right, Rebecca. It's my birthday, and it's rare that we all get together like this. Stay a while. Come, have a drink."