His nervous gaze brought a bitter ache to my heart.

When the words reached my lips, I whispered, “No, I drove the Audi.”

"That's right," he said with a faint smile. "You’ve never liked being high-profile."

Only then did the tension leave his shoulders. His back finally relaxed, and he stepped closer.

Seeing my weary expression, he pulled me into his arms, his voice soft and full of concern. "Why do you look so bad? Are you tired today?"

It wasn’t from exhaustion. It was because I had taken our child’s life with my own hands.

I didn’t say this aloud; instead, I answered him silently in my mind.

I had always been quiet by nature, and my silence didn’t bother him. He simply smiled warmly and continued, "Thank you for your hard work, wife. I’ll go make your favorite lean meat porridge."

He gently tucked the quilt around me and pressed a kiss on my forehead.

As he turned to leave, I suddenly called out, “Gary.”

He stopped, turning back with a confused "Hmm?"

"What’s wrong, wife?"

"Do you remember what you said when you proposed to me?" I asked, looking calmly into his eyes.

For a moment, I saw panic flicker in his gaze, but he quickly masked it with a firm, gentle smile.

“Of course, I remember. Why? Are you worried your handsome husband will be stolen away?”

"Don’t speak when you see me," I said softly.

He turned back, his expression full of affection, and gently scratched the tip of my nose.

Moments later, he squatted in front of me, raising four fingers. “I swear, Gary will never betray Mary in this lifetime.”

Hearing those words, I clenched my palms tightly, willing the tears not to fall.

Looking into his clear, earnest eyes, I forced a soft smile. “In half a month, it’ll be our tenth anniversary. I have a gift for you too.”

From the bedside table, I retrieved a beautifully wrapped box.

His eyes lit up with joy as he exclaimed, “Stars, this is—”

Before he could tear into it, I gently held his hand. “The tenth-anniversary gift should only be opened on the day itself.”

“You’re right. I was being too impatient,” he said, smiling as he carefully set the box aside.

Then, he went downstairs to cook, closing the door quietly behind him.

As soon as he left, my phone buzzed.

“Ms. Guzman,” a voice said, “I need to remind you again: canceling all identity information will mean completely erasing yourself. This will cause significant inconveniences. Are you sure?”

The sound of cooking drifted upstairs.

For ten years, only Gary had been at home. Despite having a nanny and chef, he had learned to cook every dish I loved, making them himself.

He once said that if I loved him, I should let him feel it.

But now, those moments of happiness have become a source of unbearable pain.

Snapping back to reality, I said with unshakable resolve, “I’m sure. I just want to disappear completely.”

…

After ending the call, exhaustion overtook me, and I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, the rich aroma of lean meat porridge filled the air.

I walked out of the room and found Gary in the kitchen. His tall figure leaned against the stove as he stirred the porridge with one hand and used the other to press the voice button on his phone, replying to a message.

A faint smile played on his lips.

Is it her? I tortured myself with the thought.

Sensing my gaze, Gary put down his phone and turned to me.

As soon as I sat at the dining table, he placed the porridge before me.

Carefully picking out the ginger, he blew on it before offering it to me. “It’s ready to eat,” he said tenderly.

I tasted the porridge, its temperature was perfect, but the flavor I once loved now seemed utterly bland.

After dinner, we went to bed.

Even after ten years of marriage, Gary still liked to hold me in his arms as he slept.

Half-asleep and half-awake, I faintly heard Gary’s voice coming from the bathroom, sharp with irritation.

“I told you, don’t call me on this phone. If my wife finds out, you know the consequences,” he said, his tone low but stern.

The stillness of the night made it easy to catch the girl's trembling response. “But no one answered your phone... there’s a power outage here. It’s so dark. I’m scared…”

Gary’s initial anger softened immediately. “Just this once,” he relented, “but don’t let it happen again.”

Moments later, he returned to the bedroom, squatting beside me and speaking gently. “Mary, something urgent came up at work. I need to head out.”

Groggy, I murmured a soft “hmm.”

He gazed at me for a long moment before quietly leaving.

As the door clicked shut, I sat up, wide awake. Without hesitation, I grabbed a coat and took a taxi to follow him.

Fifteen minutes later, his car stopped in front of a high-end residential complex.

At the entrance, a young woman sat curled up, trembling in the cold.

My chest tightened as recognition hit me.

It was Selena Green—the woman who drunkenly confessed to Gary years ago and was sent abroad by him.

Back then, she even tried to befriend me.

I received a private message from her, asking me to give Gary to her. At first, I thought it was just another desperate plea from someone who didn’t understand the situation. I told her to move on—she was young, with a whole life ahead of her, and shouldn’t waste time on a married man.

But over time, her behavior changed. As I grew pregnant, her presence seemed to intensify. Her subtle signs of affection grew more frequently, and I convinced myself she had finally moved on, that she had let go of her feelings for Gary.

But that night, I realized how wrong I was.

Under the dim streetlight, I watched her eyes light up when she saw Gary. Without warning, she threw herself into his arms, locking him in a tight hug and kissing his cheek passionately. “I knew you wouldn’t ignore me,” she said, her voice almost playful.

Gary looked around in panic, trying to free himself, but she clung to him, refusing to let go. Finally, he surrendered, lifting her into his car.

I stood in the shadows, watching them walk into the nearest hotel.

Soon after, my phone buzzed with a text from Gary: [Honey, my wife is being a little troublesome, so I won’t be coming home tonight.]

I stared at the message, my mind numb. Then a tissue blocked my view as I wiped away the tears.

The driver's sister sighed sympathetically. "Just wipe your tears, men are like that."

It was only then that I realized tears had already started streaming down my face.

"Thank you," I muttered, accepting the kindness of a stranger with a polite nod.

On the way home, I leaned my head gently against the car window, the cool glass offering some comfort as my thoughts spiraled.

Selena’s posts felt like a thousand barbs, digging into my flesh. Gary had fallen in love with her—and then still held me in his arms, whispering how much he loved me. What was he thinking?

How could he act so convincingly?

I clutched my chest as the tears came uncontrollably, crashing down like waves. The pain was unbearable—more painful than the knife I took for him when I saved him.

By the time I got home, I opened Selena's scarf.

Of course, there was a new update:

Wooooooohooooooooooo! [Aaaaaah, stinky uncle was way too aggressive—he tore my new shirt, humph!]

Her scarf had countless fans. Soon, comments flooded her post. I stared at the familiar hand and, in silent resignation, gave her a thumbs up using my alternate account.

The deregistration process would take time.

I began to notice every little detail around me, my mind consumed by it all.

I didn’t realize it at first—the subtle overlaps between her posts and my life. The perfume I wore, the bag I carried, even my wedding ring—each item appeared in her feed.

It dawned on me eventually. These weren’t coincidences; they were silent declarations of war.

But I was leaving soon. None of it would matter anymore.

I became quieter, almost detached.

Gary didn’t return until the third day.

He was still wearing the same clothes, crisp and unwrinkled. Yet, as he moved, I caught a glimpse of faint teeth marks on his collar.

He seemed to notice my indifference.

The day before our wedding anniversary, Gary apologized profusely. He said he shouldn’t have ignored me recently and wanted to make it up by taking me to dinner.

I agreed. I wanted to leave on my terms, with a proper goodbye.

At the restaurant, I saw Selena outside, live-streaming on her phone.

Gary walked past her without a glance, but the moment we sat down, he turned to his phone.

Through the reflection on the window, I saw her stream.

“This is the restaurant my boyfriend bought for me,” Selena said sweetly. “He even renamed it Rising Moon just for me!”

Comments flooded in, a mix of admiration and criticism.

I stared at my untouched plate, my hands trembling, the final threads of my resolve unraveling.

After all, everyone knew Selena had failed to confess her love and had been sent out of the capital by Gary.

Yet here she was, live-streaming with tears in her eyes, arguing pitifully: "What I’m saying is true. Daniel Warren was really given to me by my boyfriend..."

I sat across Gary, casually flipping through the menu, while stealing glances at his face, which was growing darker by the second. His fingers were typing furiously on his phone, his irritation evident.

I paused from ordering, switched to my alternate account, and joined the live-stream room.

The first thing I saw was Gary’s comment: [This restaurant does belong to Miss Selena.]

His words immediately caused a shift in the tone of the live-stream chat.

“Wait a minute, isn’t that Mr. Hodge’s verified account? Didn’t he personally send Selena away before? Why is he speaking up for her now?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The person backing Selena must be incredibly powerful. Even Mr. Hodge has to tread carefully.”

“By the way, isn’t Daniel Warren Restaurant one of the top establishments in the capital? It’s worth hundreds of millions, and he just handed it to her? Looks like there’s another maniac who dotes on his mistress after Gary Hodge.”

I lowered my gaze, my hand tightening around the phone, suppressing the storm brewing within me.

As soon as Gary’s verified account appeared in Selena’s live stream, the room's popularity soared.

“Who dotes on his wife more, Mr. Hodge or the big boss behind Selena?” someone cheekily asked.

Gary’s reputation as a devoted husband had everyone speculating. A poll was even started, pitting Gary’s famed love for me against the mysterious benefactor spoiling Selena. Enthusiasm buzzed in the chat.

Meanwhile, Selena’s bright face lit up with a mix of tears and laughter. "Of course, it’s my boyfriend," she gushed. "He’s the best man in the world. He says he loves me the most."

Across from me, Gary had a gentle smile tugging at his lips, seemingly amused by her playful declaration.

I lowered my phone, realizing my gaze had been fixed on him.

"What’s wrong, wife? Have you decided what to order?" Gary asked warmly.

I shook my head. "I can’t decide."

"Let me handle it. I know your tastes better than you do."

As the food arrived, I excused myself to the bathroom.

While there, a strange text buzzed on my phone. I hesitated before opening it.

It was from Selena:

[Mary, stop pretending. You clicked on my profile three times yesterday. You know everything, don’t you?]

[And do you know how much Gary loves my body?]

My hands trembled as I stared at the screen, my stomach sinking into a bottomless void.